HIGH SOCIETY MEETS HIGH ANXIETY IN MEXICO

For Well-To-Do Bystanders In Nation's Drug War, The Risk Of
Kidnapping Lies Around Every Turn - And In Every Taxi

MEXICO CITY -- Lourdes Morales and two friends had just come out of a
movie at 9 o'clock on a brisk fall evening when a beat-up grey Ford
pulled up alongside them Five men piled out, pinned Ms. Morales and
her entourage against a wall, pressed pistols to their stomachs, and
patted them down for money and valuables.

"Here, take everything," said Ms. Morales, 35, throwing her favourite
pink bag at their feet. Inside were the keys to her house and car,
her cellphone, credit card and wallet.

A police car was parked nearby. But the two officers inside didn't
even blink as the assault unfolded in a wealthy neighbourhood of old
colonial homes in Mexico City's south end, near the historic
residence of famed muralist Diego Rivera.

It could have been worse. Ms. Morales, elegant in high-heeled brown
leather boots and a tweed blazer, wasn't killed or kidnapped. She was
just one more victim of a drive-by robbery in a country with a
growing problem not just of drug violence, but kidnapping, extortion
and petty theft.

The offensive launched by President Felipe Calderon against the drug
cartels has unleashed a vicious cycle of violence in this country of
110 million. Decapitated bodies have turned up in parking lots,
executions have been posted on the Internet, and banners taunting
police hung over highway overpasses. More than 5,376 people have been
killed in the past year, a 117-per-cent increase over 2007, with much
of the drug violence focused along Mexico's northern border, in
cities such as Tijuana and Ciudad Juarez, where the army has moved in
and cartels fight one another for territory and control

Ordinary Mexicans, however, worry less about bullets than about being
robbed or abducted. As the government squeezes the cartels' drug
profits, more and more criminals turn to kidnapping, carjacking and
extortion as lucrative sidelines. Criminal gangs scan society pages
and Facebook postings in search of wealthy targets.

Mexicans, especially the one-fifth who live in the capital, have for
years put up with the risk of kidnapping, but the recent increase,
combined with the complicity of police, has unleashed a new atmosphere of fear.

Reliable statistics on abductions are hard to come by because most go
unreported for fear of police involvement. Last summer, several
police officers were arrested in the abduction of 14-year-old
Fernando Marti, the son of a wealthy sporting goods-chain owner.

The Citizens Institute for Crime Studies here estimates the real
kidnapping rate is more than seven times the official rate. The
institute believes there are probably about 500 a month nationwide.
"Ninety per cent of people in Mexico City don't feel safe. Things
have deteriorated in the last two years," said Luis de la Barreda,
the institute's executive director. "Kidnappings have increased by 20
per cent."

When Ms. Morales, who works for a non-governmental organization
studying the causes of crime, tried to interest police in pursuing
her assailants, they shrugged. "They told me, 'Don't worry, these
thieves won't try to rob your house, that's a different band of
robbers,' " she recalled of the incident last fall.

No savvy, well-heeled Mexican dares look the part any more, removing
Tiffany bracelets and diamond engagement rings before leaving the
house. Many avoid hailing taxis on the street, and if they're
driving, they run red lights after sundown for fear of carjackings.

At dinner parties and cafes, people share stories of the latest
outrage. These days, it is virtual abductions: Criminals call a
person's cellphone claiming to be holding a loved one for ransom. The
person becomes upset, often blurting out the loved one's name and
agreeing to pay up, only to later discover it's a ruse.

"It's a real psychological manipulation," said a woman in her mid-30s
who was recently taken in by such a scam. "You're so upset you agree
to anything."

Some restaurants and shops have been forced to hire guards, install
security cameras and pay police a few hundred dollars a month to
patrol their neighbourhoods, just to keep customers safe. That's what
Robert Craig, owner of Primos, did after clients at his bistro were
twice attacked last year by a band of brazen watch thieves.

The bandits held up patio diners as they tucked into endive salad and
steak frites, demanding their Audemars Piguet and Cartier watches.

"They fired off their guns. People were yelling and screaming. It was
pandemonium," Mr. Craig said, stressing that his establishment is now safe.

Delia Nava, 30, was recently the victim of an "express kidnapping"
when she made the mistake of flagging a taxi on the street in the
fashionable Polanco neighbourhood. "I got into the cab and two other
men appeared from nowhere and got in on either side of me," recalled
Ms. Nava, a hotel receptionist out walking her cocker spaniel through
a park. "They drove me around to different banks and made me withdraw
all my money and hand it over. It was a horrible experience."

She no longer goes out at night alone, or hails cabs from the street.

All this anxiety is a boon for some: Experts say business is thriving
at the estimated 10,000 security companies operating in the country.
Bodyguards, guard dogs and armoured SUVs have become status symbols
among Mexico City's wealthy elites.

Perhaps the most innovative product of all is a new line of clothing
at Miguel Caballero, a by-appointment-only shop in Polanco with a
metal detector at the entrance that is known as the Armani of
"high-security" couture.

On offer are bulletproof trench coats, leather jackets and Italian
wool sports jackets for $4,000 (U.S.), along with polo shirts and
tuxedo shirts for $3,000. All the clothing is custom-made, can
withstand shots from a .44 Magnum handgun, and will be replaced
gratis in the event of, God forbid, an incident.

Javier di Carlo, the shop's genial marketing manager, shows a video
of himself sporting a Miguel Caballero leather jacket, wincing
slightly, as his boss shoots him with a revolver.

"It felt like a pinch. It didn't hurt at all," Mr. di Carlo said with
a shrug. "When a client comes in and asks, 'Does it work?' I show
them this video."

Satisfied customers include Prince Felipe of Spain, President Alvaro
Uribe of Colombia, Hollywood action star Steven Seagal, and King
Abdullah of Jordan, some of whose photographs decorate the showroom walls.

The store opened its first outlet in Bogota and has since expanded to
Johannesburg, Guatemala City, and even Harrods, in London.

Ms. Morales, however, won't be shopping here any time soon. Instead,
she changed the locks on her apartment, bought a new handbag and
carried on. "I was freaked out for two or three months," she said. "I
had the sensation that I was being followed."

But she has learned to live with the risk. After all, her brother was
kidnapped for six hours. Everyone has a story. They're lucky if they
live to tell it.