Aztec Treasure Ch. 31-40

By dinnertime, all anyone could talk about was the breaking news about the CIA black prison in the Gulf of Mexico and the violent escape of Julio Salazar. I watched the coverage with mixed emotions. I was glad Julio was out of their clutches but worried about what he would do next. I'd seen him many times at our clubhouse or when visiting family; my father warned me not to be alone with him, ever. If he didn't trust him, I wouldn't either.

The television station was showing the family of the man who Julio killed to take his boat and truck. Pictures of the stolen truck, along with its license plate number, ran along the bottom of the screen. The Coast Guard had identified one of the bodies recovered as the CIA Deputy Director for Operations, and the CIA was now the center of a criminal investigation. Chase told me that Colletta was on her way to see the President about it and find out how high the corruption went.

I tried not to let any of that affect me as I focused on meeting and fitting in with the people in my new home. I spent a lot of time in the pool area, which made Maritza happy. Jaguars LOVE water, and she didn't want to leave the pool. She and the other children loved it when we were in our cat forms, but it made it difficult to communicate. I so wished I could have a Pack bond, but that wasn't to happen.

One good thing about all this was there was no longer a need for me to have a new name or identification. Chase had gone public with my presence, and the CIA wasn't a threat. It didn't mean it was safe for me to leave without bodyguards, but it did allow me to transfer my school transcript to Minnesota and enroll in online classes. The Alphas wanted me to graduate in time to start college in the fall, and I agreed with them. I needed to move on with my life.

The lawyers came back shortly after news broke about Julio's truck turning up at a church in Virginia. Vic and Lance were happy that he wasn't coming our way, but Colletta was nervous. I signed the paperwork for guardianship of Maritza as her nearest living relative and started adoption proceedings. Spider Monkey spent a few hours with the lawyers preparing to file a civil case, providing them with all the information we had on the drone strike. If the Government failed to comply with a discovery proceeding, my lawyers would know. "When are we going to file," I asked.

"Perhaps never," the lead attorney said. "Mrs. Knightly's information is highly classified, and we don't want to tip our hand about how much we have. I have a meeting tomorrow with the Department of Justice; I'm confident they will make a generous offer to have this go away. If not, we file in Federal court next week with all the typical fanfare."

"Fanfare?"

"Of course. We file the paperwork and include the lawsuit in a press release. Our filing lays out a lot of embarrassing information, which we back up with appearances on news shows. It would be helpful for you to consent to an interview, with a friendly reporter and appropriate controls, of course. The more publicity we get, the faster they will settle. With this hitting on the heels of the news about the black site prison, we'll have them begging for mercy." Wow. They'd thought it all out, but I didn't want to be a celebrity. "What I need to know is the minimum amount you will accept in a settlement offer, before or after we file."

I had no idea what 'significant' was. "What will your initial settlement offer be?"

"Fifty million." My eyes got wide. FIFTY? Holy shit! "Each."

That made my jaw drop. "Fifty for Maritza as well?"

"It seems like a nice round number," he said. "I doubt if they will take it, which is why I need to know your floor on this."

I had zero clues as to how this all would go. "What do you think is a good number? You're in for thirty percent, after all. I know you'd go as high as you can."

"Juries are a big variable, and the government can drag this out for years and years if they choose. We think we can get you twenty-five million each. For a floor, I'd recommend twenty. I'm confident we can get much more than that at trial if it goes that far."

"Cash?"

"You have to pay taxes on it before you pay our fee, unfortunately. You'll probably take home around five million each."

Something didn't sound right. "So let me get this straight. If you don't even file the lawsuit and in one meeting get the Feds to settle for fifty million, you walk away with fifteen million of it, and Maritza and I split ten million after taxes. Does that seem right? Why shouldn't I find someone else who will do it on an hours-worked basis?" This was still my "free" consultation, so I hadn't signed anything with the firm yet.

"It's a standard services contract," the lawyer said.

"It's a gift of a case," Lance interjected. "You just told her how easily you thought you could settle this in a week, but you'd still bend her over for thirty percent? Maybe she needs to look elsewhere." I could see the panic on their faces. "I'm sure we can find someone willing to negotiate a lower fee. After all, this isn't a woman complaining about neck pain after an accident. Her case will never go to trial, and we both know it."

I could see the lawyers starting to sweat; this case was worth millions to the firm, and the lawyers knew it. It was time for me to be firm. "Ten percent," I told them. "It's a hell of a payday for a weekend's work. As Lance said, there are plenty of law firms who could take what Spider Monkey gift-wrapped for you and turn it into a big payday. Now, I'm going to check on my daughter. Why don't you call the office and prepare a revision to the representation agreement; if you don't like my terms, Lance will show you to the gate." With that, I stood up and walked out.

I couldn't get my clothes off and get into the pool fast enough. I was nervous I'd blown it, so as soon as I was sitting with the nannies, I asked one of them to check with Lance. "Girl, you are one tough negotiator," she replied. "Lance said they are freaking out on the call with their office. The senior partners don't want to lose the client, but they were already figuring out how to spend the windfall. They finally caved when the lead lawyer said that 'five million next week beats zero all to hell.' They are preparing the revised agreement now."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Lance wants to know if he can have any of the millions of dollars he just saved you."

I laughed, but he was right. To the lawyers, I was a teenager with a sob story. Lance was the one who made them sit up and realize I wasn't going to let them bully me into a bad deal. "I'll take care of him," I promised.

I signed the deal, and the lawyers went to work.

The next evening, I was sitting in the pool snack bar when someone turned all the televisions to Fox News and turned up the volume. "FORMER CIA CHIEF ASSASSINATED," the crawl read. "...one shot rang out, killing former CIA Director Peter Sinclair outside the law offices where he was meeting with his defense team. A source close to the investigation said the FBI has already located the murder weapon. It was a bolt-action sniper rifle in an empty office building five hundred yards away. More details as it becomes available."

The pundits and the speculation began. There were two prevailing theories; it was either a revenge killing by Julio Salazar or deep-state intelligence agents taking out Sinclair to keep the truth from coming out. "What do you think happened, Maria?"

I looked over at Lance, then at Chase, who had Rori at his feet. "Five hundred yards is within Julio's comfort range," I said. "Dad said he once hit a prairie dog that far out, and they are the size of a squirrel. The CIA put him in that prison, so taking out the Deputy Director and the Director makes sense. Julio won't believe they did so without the President giving them direction. He'll take that personally, meaning the President is next on the list. Julio is dangerous as hell, and he won't stop until you kill him."

"Shit." Chase said. "I better let Mom know."

Ch. 35

President Laura Kettering's POV

White House- Personal Residence

Six days had passed since the assassination of fired CIA Director Peter Sinclair, and we weren't getting anywhere. No one had woken me overnight; since I left orders to wake me if we found anything, that meant we hadn't.

The initial investigation was conclusive; DNA evidence and fingerprints recovered along with the sniper rifle proved Julio Salazar was the killer. Despite wall-to-wall press coverage and a nationwide hunt for him, he'd disappeared without a trace. The Secret Service had gone on high alert for a few days but had returned to a normal posture yesterday. You can't make the White House into an armed camp without looking weak; it was something Fort Pelosi had proven last year at the Capitol.

My valet helped me choose a dress for the day while my secretary went over my schedule for the day. There was little around here as precious as the President's time. Every minute was planned out and accounted for by my secretary and my Chief of Staff. I listened as my valet, the first female in the history of the White House, helped me with my makeup. It was going to be a busy day.

I saw my husband Andrew emerge from his room. We didn't maintain the illusion of a loving relationship in private anymore; he enjoyed the benefits of being the First Husband, while I needed him as a prop for photo opportunities and state dinners. He was wearing white golf pants and a red polo. "Golf today?"

"Finally," he said as he walked towards the door. "The Secret Service is finally letting me out of this cage."

I chuckled at that; for a cage, it was a gilded one. "Where are you playing?"

"Chevy Chase Club," he replied. "Senator Fairchild has a membership. We're playing with a few guys from Pfizer."

"Keep things low-key," I said. Andrew could play golf every day of the year with the politicians and lobbyists seeking his time and favor. I'm sure if they understood just how little time I spent with him now, they wouldn't ply him with golf, food, and drinks. He'd dropped five strokes on his handicap since I came to the White House. He didn't look back as he left, his lead Secret Service agent waiting for him just outside the Residence. His protection team would drive him to the course in suburban Maryland; he wouldn't be back until late afternoon.

I never ate much of a breakfast, and I was used to getting to the office early. Agent Carter had the lead this morning, and I smiled as I met him at the door leading away from the Residence. "Good morning, Rufus," I said.

"Good morning, Madam President," he said to me. "Valkyrie is on the move," he said into his wrist microphone. Agent Carter was a twenty-year veteran of the Service and was both imposing and capable. Rufus shaved his head because he didn't like to see the grey reminding him that he was getting older.

I walked into the Oval Office at seven AM to start on my calendar. On the corner of my desk was a tray with a toasted bagel, a half grapefruit, and a large cup of coffee. My Chief of Staff stood up as I entered. "Good morning, Madam President," Lynette Johnson said. "You have a busy day set up. We need to twist some arms to get your defense budget passed."

"I'll make sure I stretch out first," I told her. Lynette treasured this time alone with me while I ate; she was my gatekeeper, and we needed to be on the same page. The Chief of Staff was the most powerful person in the White House who wasn't me. It was her job to run the White House offices and advance my priorities, and she was damn good at it.

The steward took the tray away after I finished, and the meeting schedule began with the Daily Intelligence Briefing. General Curtis Ripley, my Director of National Intelligence, didn't have much to report, and neither did Homeland Security. I was getting a little frustrated. "We've got NOTHING on him? We just lost him? He just got up and walked away after shooting Peter in downtown Washington?"

Homeland Security Director Strickland was getting a little defensive. "If there were jungles in DC, he might have done that. You are correct that Julio can't stay hidden forever. We are doing everything we can to locate him."

"He's not like your typical fugitive," General Ripley said. "We've never had to deal with someone who could become a jaguar and slip into the woods to survive unseen. He could stay out there for months, and we'd never find him."

"We think it is most likely that he left the country already," Director Alexander Strickland added. "He took out everyone on the oil rig, and now he's killed the CIA people responsible. Julio is not stupid enough to risk getting captured again, and the whole country knows his face. He's probably in Mexico."

I shook my head. "Is there anyone in the Sons who could be helping him now?"

"I consider that unlikely," Alexander replied. "Between the raids and RICO, there's no one above a prospect left in the Club. All his family members are dead, save two, and we know he hasn't contacted them. Chase would kill him if he tried." Julio and his family held grudges, which is how the whole war started between the Sons and the Steel Brotherhood. Chase and his Pack had been instrumental in the takedown of the Sons of Tezcatlipoca. Julio would want his blood as payback for the loss of life. "If he wants revenge, he'll be in Minnesota."

In the end, it was all guessing. Julio would show up, or he wouldn't. I went on with my day.

I was in the middle of my one o'clock press conference in the East Room when Rufus walked up to me with a grim expression on his face. "We have to go NOW," he whispered to me.

"What?"

He wasn't waiting as he pushed me towards the door, his hand in my back as he moved me away from the lectern. The reporters were shouting questions, all wondering what was going on. Rufus pushed me through the door, where five more agents surrounded me. All had their weapons drawn. "What is going on," I asked because I couldn't see past them. The agents didn't go at my pace; instead, two of them had me by my arms. My toes barely touched the ground as they whisked me to the waiting elevator. Rufus and three other agents entered with me. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

"It's a security situation, and we're taking you to the bunker," Rufus said. He ignored me as he listened to updates on his earpiece, and I knew better than to push it right now. The Secret Service's response to threats was to get me to the safest location available. At the White House, that was the underground Situation Room.

Rufus left two men at the elevator while he walked me to the situation room. Only the skeleton staff was present, and they all stood as I entered the room. I stood at the head of the table, glaring at my lead agent. "Rufus?"

"The Secret Service detail assigned to your husband called in they were under attack," he told me. "We've been unable to raise them since."

I fell back into the chair; the news knocked the wind out of me. "How?"

"I don't have that information, Madam President."

It took fifteen minutes before I got a proper briefing, and by that time, the room was nearly full. The head of the Secret Service gave us the bad news. "Our team got ambushed on the thirteenth fairway," Valerie Grunwald said. "The gunman used an AR-15 and killed three of the agents. The fourth was seriously wounded and unable to fight back. Mr. Kettering's kidnapper took him through a cut in the fence to a waiting vehicle."

"Where do we sit on the search?"

"We are mobilizing air assets and setting a perimeter, but he got a good jump on us. Our only witness so far said it was a white van."

The screens showed the progress of the search. An hour later, officers checking on a white van at a local park found Andrew's wallet and golf glove. There was no sign of the First Husband. "He changed cars," FBI Director Patterson said. "I'm sorry, Madam President. He could be anywhere by now."

It was after eight at night when the local news station received a ransom note from Julio.

"I have your husband. If you want to see him alive again, you must give me four things in return. The ten million dollars that you took from my Club. Chase Nygaard, the wolf directly responsible for the deaths of my Club brothers. My only living family members, Maria Meztli and baby Maritza. And a private jet and crew, fueled and ready for me at eight PM tomorrow at the Leesburg Executive Airport. Don't even think about trying to arrest me or stop me; Andrew only has enough air to survive for forty-eight hours or so, and I'm the only one who can tell you where I have him buried."

I leaned back in my chair, my headache pounding away. My hands were shaking as I reached for my glass of water. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

Ch. 36

Chase Nygaard's POV

Arrowhead Pack Pool

I was sitting in the hot tub, keeping an eye on the televisions we had around the snack bar area for updates on the First Husband's abduction. Like many, I was shocked that Julio had managed to take down the Secret Service agents and get away with him. Mom had reached out to all the Packs, urging them to send help for the search, and they had responded. Dozens of warriors and trackers were on their way to Washington, where they would pair with law enforcement agencies. The Secret Service would provide clothing with Andrew's scent, and they would all recognize a Werecat.

I smiled as I looked over to where Maritza was playing with the other children in the pool. She and Maria were in their cat forms; my daughter Cheryl was climbing on her chest as she stretched out in the shallow water. Meanwhile, my son Mark was trying to catch her tail as it splashed back and forth at the edge of the pool. The nannies had things under control with the babies.

Spider Monkey was sitting across from me, taking a few minutes to let the jets massage her lower back before she had to get out again. Vic was sitting on the edge behind her, rubbing down her shoulders and neck. She and her team had been looking for Julio, but it was like he disappeared into thin air. All of the screen time was wearing on her, and Vic had insisted she take the night off. Like all werewolf males with pregnant mates, he was obsessively protective about her and the baby. It might drive Spider Monkey crazy, but he'd make sure she got her rest.

"Alpha, your pizza is coming," Spider Monkey said.

I got out of the hot tub and sat down at a table with a towel under me. Rori walked out of the pool to the designated "shaking area" for those in wolf form, where screens kept water from flying onto everyone. She came over to the table, climbing up on a platform covered in outdoor carpet that left her just below table level. Her tongue was hanging out to the side, and she was drooling. "Hungry?"

"Starving," she said. I put a few slices on a plate for her, peeling the cheese off the top so they would cool off faster. I knew she was frustrated by having to stay in wolf form while pregnant, but it was necessary. Our child was a big one, and her belly was stretched halfway to the ground when she stood up. "Swimming helps with my back pain."

"It's good for you," I agreed. I poured some milk into a dish and set it next to the pizza plate before taking some pizza for my plate. I got to my first bite when the breaking news sounder came over.

"We interrupt this program with this breaking news. Julio Salazar, the werejaguar kidnapper of First Husband Andrew Kettering, released his demands to a Maryland television station a few minutes ago. Reading from the note: 'I have your husband. If you want to see him alive again, you must give me four things in return. The ten million dollars that you took from my Club. Chase Nygaard, the wolf directly responsible for the deaths of my Club brothers. My only living family members, Maria Meztli and baby Maritza. And a private jet and crew, fueled and ready for me at eight PM tomorrow at the Leesburg Executive Airport. Don't even think about trying to arrest me or stop me; Andrew only has enough air to survive for forty-eight hours or so, and I'm the only one who can tell you where I have him buried.' Thus far, there has been no reaction from the White House House."