THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

BOOK SEVEN: THE SECOND of the BOOKS of CHANGE

CHAPTER TWO

President Huerta refilled his copita, raising it without toast, for those whom he was thinking of... alive or dead... were each, and in his own way, detestable. Then, he reconsidered.

"Let's drink to Fixed Eye," he proposed. "We would sit here, Gustavo and I, we drank champagne and cognac," he told the American.

"That would be Madero's brother?" Barlow inquired.

"Indeed... Gustavo, a fine man, an administrator worthy to sit in any Cabinet, even that of Reyes or Porfirio Diaz. A thorough grafter and a gangster, also. He knew the world better than little Pancho, he had a private army we christened "la porra"... which is to say the club that, with a little bread, must be employed if one is to master this ungainly nation. My dispute with Gustavo was over his treatment of Bernardo Reyes, to whom I offer this next salute. Mister Barlow..." the President said in a sporting manner, "what do you know of Reyes?"

"The Ambassador assures me that he was a gentleman, a man of high standards, perhaps..."

"Perhaps what?"

"Perhaps too high," the American ventured. "Certainly for such as Francisco Madero."

"And his brother," Huerta corrected. "That is what decided my course, they way the brothers finally, and most treacherously... like female spiders... drew poor Reyes to his doom."

"The Ambassador speaks sentimentally of General Reyes, but I did not know the man," Barlow said.

"Porfirio Diaz was iron," Huerta said, "Bernardo Reyes was golden, from his mind to his appearance. The greatest artist it ever was my privilege to know... Reyes would have made an Athens of Mexico while, I fear, it was Don Porfirio's destiny, as will be mine, to rule a Sparta. His was the tragedy of Mexico, his nature so noble that even Diaz grew jealous and, while Reyes was content to wait for his time, an uncommon envy welled up in the President who, instead, surrounded himself with men like Limantour and Corral. Each of these were useful, in some respects, but not the equal of a Reyes. But when he and Felix Diaz were freed from prison, some Maderist worm informed the brothers and he was shot from ambush. That was Mexico's ruin, not this prattling of Woodrow Wilson's about the ten tragic days..."

And Victoriano Huerta, emphasizing his distaste for the Maderos and the American President set his copita down.

"Well, what did happen to Gustavo?" Ehrenberg inquired. "My predecessor informed me he was there one day, and then... gone."

"That was the work of Felicistas," Huerta dissimulated with a shrug, referring to followers of Felix Diaz, the nephew of Don Porfirio who had shared the hospitality of prison with Reyes after his revolt at Veracruz collapsed for want of the cash to continue it. "They named One Eye his brother's evil genius and blamed him for that Suarez... Pino Suarez and Gustavo suspected something... he was about to sail off to Japan and spoil certain arrangements of mine so I naturally had to hasten matters towards a conclusion."

With Reyes dead, the followers of Felix Diaz had barricaded themselves in the armory where they passed more than a week trading artillery shells with the Federals, under General Mondragon, until a distraught Francisco Madero recalled Huerta to command the capital. "I dined congenially with Gustavo at the Central," Huerta now smiled, "I recall his urging me to drink the wine, which I promised to do once he had left. Then, having expressed regrets at having forgotten my revolver, Gustavo graciously loaned me his and, thus, could not defend himself against the Felicista mob."

The Mexicans at El Globo knew, however, that, when Gustavo was set upon after leaving the restaurant, a company of Federal officers under Huerta's command moved forward to resist the mob. But the last thing Gustavo saw, before his one good eye was put out by a bayonet, was a tall man in civilian dress who stopped them, whispering a few words to their commander as Gustavo was confronted with his brother's list of 22 inscribed "Those Who Must Die". The Federals retreated then, smoking and waiting while the mob finished their bloody work... the glass eye finally pried out and sent bouncing across the street towards the tall man who wiped it and put it into the pocket of his overcoat.

Meanwhile, Aureliano Blanquet was taking Francisco and Pino Suarez into custody, the siege was lifted, and Felix Diaz emerged from the arsenal to the cheers of patriots with rifles at their backs. And, as it had been arranged that he would be named President after a short interval... presided over by Huerta... he celebrated his success at a reception upon February twenty second given by the ecstatic Henry Lane Wilson on the occasion of Washington's birthday. It was a famous gala; much celebrated and as much discussed, after the fact, as any evening is remembered from the perspectives of Argus.

There was Felix Diaz, primped and perfumed, cultivating the ladies of measure and a few less virtuous ladies of pleasure; he preened and smiled simperingly, but there was little of his uncle's iron evident, even then. Huerta, himself, was alleged too drunk to enter into plots, assuring a wholly indifferent Henry Wilson that the lives of the President and Vice President would be spared although Francisco Madero, for his own good, would be required to submit to examination and pass some time in a hospital for lunatics. The subject of Zapata being raised, Huerta could only stutter "... d-diez ocho c-centavos..." eighteen cents, to buy a rope to hang him alongside every inhabitant of rebellious Morelos, be they man, woman or child. After such slaughter, young Barlow had cause to recollect, the fierce little General suggested that this state be repopulated with Japanese.

The British Minister, a man of many years and little sense, wandered through the Palace with his absent air, and with a deranged parrot on his shoulder, nibbling his ear and dribbling excrement down the back of his coat until the whistle of a falling shell frightened the bird and it leaped to the head of a dowager, flying off with her wig between its claws, scattering diamonds across the floor. Ehrenberg lit his Minister's cigar. Henry Lane Wilson brought the reception to its close and retired to dreams that could not be pleasant and might have been darker, still, had he followed Huerta back to the National Palace.

"I suspected but could not prove," Huerta sighed, "that Felix Diaz and Mondragon were also behind the unfortunate events later in the evening. That is why it was necessary they be sent abroad in service to the Republic," he told the German and the Americans, "wouldn't either of your nations have done the same? Oh, I suppose I could have had one or the other arrested, but such fighting among ourselves would only be giving succor to Zapata, Villa and some other ones, like those insolent Governors of the north. Well - Abraham Gonzalez is finished and I have Carranza eating out of my hand like a big dog, too soft, even, to chase the cows around. And so, gentlemen, let us raise our glasses one last time, again for poor Gustavo, and let us enjoy wine... in honor of that which I chose not to drink at the Central."

"You didn't?" Barlow explained.

"Of course not! Gustavo had arranged for it to be spiked with arsenic - I told you, I knew how that one worked,” the President said, a forefinger tapping his forehead. “Salud!"

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