FOR MEXICO'S WEALTHY, EXPENSES INCLUDE GUARDS

MEXICO CITY -- When Jose hops into his Ferrari, presses his Ferragamo
loafer to the floor and fills the night air with a deep roar, his
bodyguards hustle into a black sport utility vehicle with their
weapons at the ready, tailing their fast-moving boss through the streets.

Jose, a business magnate in his 30s who said he was afraid to have
his full name published, makes sure his two children get the same
protection. Bodyguards pick them up from school and escort them even
to friends' birthday parties -- where the bodyguards meet other
bodyguards, because many of the children's classmates have similar protection.

With drug-related violence spinning out of control and kidnappings a
proven money-maker for criminal gangs, members of Mexico's upper
class find themselves juggling the spoils of their status with the
fear of being killed.

Dinner party chatter these days focuses on two things that are making
their lives, still the envy of the country's masses, far less
enviable: the financial crisis, which is chipping away at their
wealth, and the wave of insecurity, which is making it more perilous
for them to enjoy what remains.

Mexico's violence afflicts both rich and poor, but the nation's
income gap is so pronounced that criminals scour the society pages
for potential kidnapping victims, for whom they demand, and often
receive, huge sums in ransom. A recent report by the Organization for
Economic Cooperation and Development found that Mexico had the
largest divide between rich and poor of the group's 30 member
nations, virtually assuring that wealthy targets stand out.

Wealthy Mexicans have long hired bodyguards, but experts say the
numbers of those seeking protection have jumped since President
Felipe Calderon challenged the drug cartels, bringing unprecedented
levels of related violence -- which had been mainly confined to the
areas bordering the United States -- into the major cities.

High-profile and sometimes gruesome crimes have stoked people's fears.

In one of the worst cases, a 5-year-old boy from a poor family was
plucked from a gritty market this month and killed by kidnappers, who
injected acid into his heart.

Early this month, white-coated doctors in Tijuana protested after one
of their own, a prominent kidney specialist, was plucked from outside
his office by heavily armed men. He has since been released.

"It's out of control," said Dr. Hector Rico, the leader of the local
medical association.

Confronted by the irate doctors at a public meeting, Jose Guadalupe
Osuna Millan, the governor of Baja California State, said the answer
to the rising insecurity was to come together and fight.

"We're not going to cede one millimeter of territory to these
criminals," he said of the federal government's war on drug traffickers.

But hundreds of well-off families along the border have become so
consumed by their fears that they have moved out of Mexico, at least
temporarily, often using business visas granted because of their work
in the United States.

"It's a bad feeling to have to leave your country behind," said
Javier, a prosperous Tijuana businessman, who moved his family across
the border to San Diego last year after a group of armed men tried to
kidnap him. "But I didn't really have a choice." He insisted that his
last name not be used, out of fear that criminals might track him.

"There's an exodus, and it's all about insecurity," said Guillermo
Alonso Meneses, an anthropologist at the Colegio de la Frontera Norte
in Tijuana. "A psychosis has developed. There's fear of getting
kidnapped or killed.

"People don't want to live that way," he continued, "and those who
can afford it move north."

Still, most of the wealthy have chosen to stay put, hiring armies of
protectors to continue enjoying their gilded lives.

Although there are few firm figures for the number of Mexicans
employed to guard their fellow citizens -- most security companies
ignore requirements to register with the government -- experts say
business is booming for the estimated 10,000 security companies
operating in the country.

In the border state of Chihuahua, the Mexican Employers' Association
recently reported a 300 percent increase in the number of bodyguards.
In that violence-torn state, some luxury hotels now offer their
guests bodyguards and bulletproof vehicles.

For many affluent families, the guards and bulletproof cars, homes
and even clothing have become a way of life. Some Mexicans say the
protection has even become a status symbol.

In Mexico City, some people being protected by men wearing earpieces
strut along in designer clothes, using their armed guards to clear a path.

A stylish woman at a Starbucks in the well-off Coyoacan neighborhood
held out her cappuccino the other day while chatting with friends. A
member of her two-man security detail discreetly slipped a cardboard
sleeve on the cup so that the woman's fingertips were protected,
along with the rest of her.

"It's a different life," said Jose, the well-protected Ferrari
driver, who agreed to provide a glimpse of that life. "I've gotten used to it."

Indeed, Jose hands out designer clothing and other expensive gifts to
his family's two dozen or so bodyguards and invites them to his
mother's house weekly for a meal. He is being benevolent but also
practical, given that many crimes in Mexico are inside jobs.

"I want them to feel like they're part of the family," he said. "And
if something happens to me, I want them to react. They won't risk
their life for a paycheck. They will risk their life for a friend, for family."

Some security consultants and academics point out that at least the
upper crust has options, while other Mexicans must rely on law
enforcement agencies, known for their corruption and ineffectiveness,
to protect them from the violence. Many families who struggle to make
ends meet find their loved ones grabbed for ransom. And shootouts
between traffickers and the police and soldiers pursuing them erupt
with no regard for the income level of bystanders.

"There's reason for everyone to be fearful," said Dr. Alonso, the
Tijuana anthropologist, who hears gunfire at night in his
middle-class neighborhood and, like many others, rarely ventures out
after dark.

Despite Jose's expensive clothing, eye-catching jewelry and luxury
home in the hills, he insists that his family is different from many
others in their income bracket.

"We're not nouveau riche," he said with a huff. "Those people want
guards to show how important they are."

As for the Ferrari, which he acknowledged is the opposite of
discreet, Jose said it was the car's engine that attracted him to it.
"It's not to sit back and have everyone look at me," he said. "It's to drive."

But people do gawk. And Jose's bodyguards worry about the attention
his rare sports car attracts on the roads of Mexico.

"Of course, he shouldn't be driving himself," one of Jose's
bodyguards said. "But he's like a presidential candidate who likes to
go into crowds. Our function is to provide the security around the
life he's living."

That life includes late-night stops at exclusive nightclubs and
humble taco shops. Jose understands what he puts his guards through,
because he completed bodyguard training in Guatemala to learn what
his employees should be doing.

Jose also conducts background checks before hiring his bodyguards and
sends them for regular refresher courses, meaning they are a cut
above the run-of-the-mill Mexican bodyguard, who might be a washout
police officer or soldier with modest training and little discipline
for the job.

Javier, the businessman who now lives north of the border, said he
did not believe bodyguards were the answer.

"One bodyguard, two bodyguards, even three of them can't do anything
with these criminals, who come in groups of 20 with high-powered
arms," he said. "If they want to hunt you down, they will get you."

Even Jose is taking a break from Mexico. He recently headed to Canada
with his family, for what he insisted was a respite rather than an
abandonment of his country.

"I'm not running away," he said. "I have an opportunity, and I'll be
back. But I'm not going to miss the insecurity. Not at all."

Especially appealing, he said, was that his 6-year-old son would be
able to ride his bike to school instead of being escorted in a
bulletproof vehicle driven by a private paramilitary force.

"For my children, they don't understand," Jose said. "They're happy
to have these guys around. When they get out of school, there's
someone to take their backpack. There's always someone around to
play. I try to teach them that this isn't normal. It shouldn't be this way."