Aztec Treasure Ch. 51-60

"Hi, Mom," he replied. "How is your trip going?"

"Busy. We're heading to dinner; Frank spent the day with the Task Force, and I spent it at the White House."

"I saw you on television, and I'm glad she's back in charge now. We can use allies."

Indeed. "How are things back home?"

"Quiet. I spent time working the phones today with the politicians and law enforcement. We're all taking a deep breath of relief now that Julio's gone."

"And Maria?"

"We may have a problem there. Maria and Lance are sleeping together."

"Does his wolf recognize her as his mate?"

"Not yet, but Lance is falling in love with her."

Wonderful. I had to hope the Goddess knew what she was doing, or there was heartache headed their way. "The heart wants what it does," I told him.

"We warned them both, and they are adults," Chase agreed. I had to hang up a few minutes later as we arrived at the Georgetown restaurant we'd chosen.

After a relaxing dinner and drinks, we returned to the White House just after nine. Laura's regimented daily schedule was over, and the Secret Service escorted us to her while our bags went to another bedroom. "Drink?"

"Water for me, thank you," I said.

"I'll have some of what you're pouring," Frank said, noticing the label on the whiskey bottle. "Neat."

The President had her double on ice, and we sat down in the comfortable chairs. "How are you doing," I asked her.

"It's good to keep busy," she said. "Thank you for coming. What I need right now is honest advice, and you're the only person in Washington who doesn't care about party or Presidential politics."

"I support your Presidency because you've been a friend to me and our people," I replied. "Honesty is the only way I operate."

She took a drink, closing her eyes as the single malt burned at her throat. "I don't know who to trust anymore," she finally said. "My CIA Director, a man I've known for decades, was operating secret prisons and running agents inside the United States in violation of the law and my direction. The FBI is getting nowhere with the investigations, and the Secret Service might be compromised. I'm ready to take a chainsaw to the whole tree to get rid of the rot, but I know good people will get hurt if I do."

"Madam President, is this the hill you're willing to die on?" She looked at me quizzically.

Frank answered. "It's a question the military uses. Taking an occupied hill is one of the costliest decisions a military leader can make, as the defenders have all the advantages. It's another way of asking if the objective is important enough to risk your life. If not, maybe you should do something else instead."

"You think it's that bad?"

Frank nodded. "The conspiracy to assassinate you goes far beyond a criminal biker jaguar or a CIA Director of Operations. The Sinaloa Cartel may have provided support, but they would never risk this on their own."

"You don't think the Cartel is capable of it? They have billions in assets and buy whatever they need."

"It's not good business for them; killing a President risks open warfare with the US military. The cartel is being used as much as Julio was. The people behind it are powerful, connected, and well-hidden. Your chainsaw analogy isn't far off the mark. It's going to be very difficult to identify and prosecute them."

"Can the FBI do it?"

Frank let out a breath. "You've heard of the Deep State?"

She laughed. "The idea that unelected bureaucrats hold the real power in Washington?"

"It's true," I said. "The politically-appointed leadership is window dressing; true power lies within the system of hiring and promotion. As I've heard people say, 'I was here when you got the job, and I'll be here when they walk your ass out of here.' A few appointees in the CIA can't affect real change during a four-year term; they'll wait you out if they don't like what you are doing. It takes decades of consistent leadership to change the culture of something as big as the FBI and CIA, and you don't have enough time left in your first term."

"My poll numbers are through the roof. A second term is mine to lose," she insisted.

"You won't make it to the election if you keep this up because they won't stop coming after you," Frank said. "They already killed your husband, an Air Force pilot, and nearly a hundred people on Air Force One. They took their shot and missed, and now you're trying to clean up a CIA that doesn't WANT to clean up. They have connections and influence you can't imagine, and they won't sit back and let you take them down. John F. Kennedy found that out."

She looked at him in shock. "JFK got killed by a crazed gunman," she said.

"And Jeffrey Epstein killed himself," Frank replied. "If you keep digging, they will fight back. Add in that you don't know if you can trust the Secret Service, and it's a real problem. There's one other thing to consider."

"What's that?"

"It does them no good to kill you if Vice President Cartwright goes after them even harder in revenge. They wouldn't do it without having at least an understanding with him, if not his outright support."

President Kettering sat back in her chair, the immensity of the conspiracy hitting her like a left hook to the temple. "Robert? Jesus Christ."

Time to get the discussion back on track. "So we come back to, 'Is this the hill you want to die on?' If not, then you accept the obvious fall guys and go back to campaigning."

She tossed back the rest of her drink as she thought about it. "So much for being the most powerful person in the world," she said.

"You asked," I said.

"Let's say that I decided I was going to root out the corruption, no matter the cost. What then?"

"You're not going to like it," I said. Laura got up to pour herself another. "The Task Force is easily compromised. You need a shadow investigation to monitor the official one, and the shadow can't be in government. The shadow needs access to everything without the Task Force knowing they are under surveillance. They watch the information coming in and look for deception, deletion, and diversion. Tracing that back will lead you to the ones pulling strings."

"And you would know outsiders who could be these shadows?"

"I have some ideas," Frank said.

"What other choices do I have?"

Frank REALLY didn't want to say this next part. I could tell by his expression. "It all started with the CIA trying to use werecats in their programs. The only other idea I have is to let them have a jaguar and see what they do with her."

"Oh, HELL to the no," I said.

"Maria would have to volunteer," Frank said.

"I have to agree with Colletta on this one. Come back to me with a shadow proposal, and we'll go from there." She set the drink down. "The agent outside will take you to your room."

We both stood and said our goodnights, then left her residence. When the door closed behind us, I smacked Frank hard across the chest. "Don't even THINK of suggesting that to Chase or Maria," I told him.

"I won't. I will arrange to have a tracking device implanted into Maria and Maritza. Just because she doesn't volunteer doesn't mean they won't be successful the next time they try to take them." I knew he was right as soon as he said it.

Difficult conversations were coming soon.

Ch. 58

Maria Meztli's POV
Arrowhead Pack House

"You want us to get tracking devices implanted in us?" I looked around the table at the Pack leadership, along with Colletta Grimes, who had just returned from Washington. Her husband Frank was remaining there indefinitely to assist in uncovering the conspiracy behind Julio's attacks on the President.

"You would wear a tracking device while the implant would be a distress beacon," Chase replied as he passed two bracelets down the table to me. "These necklaces are the latest technology. It transmits your location to nearby cellphone towers every fifteen minutes. With no tower in range, it sends a pulse detectable by satellites. Since they aren't active all the time, typical scanners won't pick them up unless they are lucky enough to be nearby during a pulse. The battery can operate for over a week without recharging."

I looked at the larger ring as it came to me. It was brushed silver, as thick as a straw, and hinged in the middle. I put it around my neck and closed it, but it opened back up. I looked for a latch but found nothing. Lance took a tool out of his pocket, and I noticed he was wearing a matching necklace. The resemblance to a collar was a little offensive. "The latch is magnetic. Place this over the female end, and press the 'L' to lock, 'U' to unlock." I pressed the button and could feel something moving; when it stopped, the ring locked tight. It was tight around my throat, enough to stay in place without being uncomfortable. "Unlock it and remove the tracker, then change to your jaguar form so we can make sure it won't be a problem if you shift."

I took it off before I shifted. Lance put it back on as I sat in front of him, and since it fit, he locked it in place. I changed back and pulled on my dress. "Anyone who takes me will cut this off in a heartbeat."

"It's made of titanium. If you don't pick the right place to cut, it won't be easy," Chase replied. "Maritza would get an ankle bracelet. You can remove them every three to five days, placing them on a charger to top off the battery."

"Pretty cool," I said. "Who else is getting these?"

"Rori and the girls already have them. As you said, they're an obvious place for a tracking device. By giving up the obvious, we're hoping they miss the implanted distress device." Lance took out a small plastic bag from his pocket; inside was a quarter-sized metal disc. "We would implant this on your hip, over the bone above your left buttock. In an emergency, you activate the distress signal by pressing hard onto the center of the disk. It will buzz to tell you it is activated; press hard again to stop transmitting. The signal pulses out every five minutes for six hours and is strong enough to be picked up by satellites."

"Why there?"

"You can activate it even if your hands get cuffed behind your back, and it will stay in place when you shift," Lance replied. "It also transmits the distress signal if your body temperature drops below eighty degrees." My eyes got wide as I realized why; at that temperature, I'd be dead. "This is only for adults; it's too big for Maritza."

If it gave me a longer leash, I was up for it. "Fine," I said. "When do you put this thing in?"

"Doc Olson is waiting now. It's a simple surgery, a local anesthetic, and a small incision with a few stitches. He'll put them all in."

It turned out I wasn't the only one; Chase purchased six dozen of these devices, and almost all the adults in his Pack volunteered to have the implant. It made sense; we were still under threat, and it was a simple way to protect ourselves from kidnapping or worse. I didn't have the Pack Link, so it was even more critical for me to have a way to raise the alarm. It only took a few minutes for it to go in.

That was six days ago, and my skin had nearly healed under the bandage. The road by the Pack House was full of motorcycles, thanks to an invitation Possum and Roadkill had sent out to the Steel Brotherhood. It was early May, before the peak riding season, but our Pack had more to offer than just scenic motorcycle rides. This weekend was to honor the men and women who helped us defend the Pack after the Great Unveiling.

I was in my leathers with warm clothes underneath. I'd taken Lance's advice, packing a wide range of clothing in my bags and dressing in layers. I played with my cut, feeling the stiff leather. I'd been shocked when Three Tequila and Howler pulled me to the head table on Friday night and presented me with a Steel Ladies cut. "Welcome to the club, Murder Mittens," Possum told me.

"I didn't apply, and I didn't prospect," I protested.

"The Ladies recognize one of their own. We're not the Brotherhood, so we can do what we want. You don't have to put it on if you don't want to," Three Tequila told me.

"No, I want the cut," I said as I put it on while everyone applauded. I wiped away tears as I embraced the ladies who ran the Ladies in the Orlando and Manchester chapters.

When I finally sat down, I looked down at the cut. Such a thing was unimaginable in the Sons of Tezcatlipoca. They had vests for their women with the Club logo, with "Property Of xxx" around it, and they did THAT primarily to prevent fights from breaking out at parties. Even as the Old Lady of a Club President, I was property to the Club, just like his motorcycle.

Now I was wearing it for a Club run and not as a seat decoration behind a member. Hell, I had a higher status than Lance did! He'd ride farther back in the formation since he wasn't even a Prospect. I smiled at my boyfriend as Lance walked to his Harley. "It looks great on you," he said. "You're lucky. A few Presidents pulled me aside and asked if I was interested in prospecting, but there isn't a chapter up here."

"Yet," Chase said as he walked up in his Steel Brotherhood cut. "If we can get enough members to meet the Chapter minimums, I'll get the support to start a chapter here. I've got a few leads, mostly members who are retiring or looking for a change in scenery."

"Does membership include access to the pool?"

Chase laughed at Lance. "Access to our facilities is a big draw, and not just for werewolves. The short season is a bigger problem. I tell them we double as a snowmobile club, so it's a two-for-one deal."

Chase was at the front, riding next to Roadkill and Possum. Roadkill had the front left spot as the Road Captain for this run. The visiting Presidents and their old ladies were behind him, followed by the lower-ranked members of the Brotherhood and the Ladies. The guests rode in the back of the formation, which had almost fifty motorcycles in it.

I screamed in joy as we headed out the front gate and accelerated onto the road. There was something primal about riding at high speed in close formation. You felt invincible, the roar of the engines and the sight of traffic moving aside to let you pass.

We headed east to Two Harbors, then headed north along Lake Superior on Highway 61. We'd lucked out on the weather; it was sunny and warm, with a breeze out of the west that kept the lake chill at bay. My new ride was sweet, and I enjoyed every part of the ninety-minute ride north to our first stop in Grand Marais.

Our group parked along the road before going into the famous Sven and Ole's Pizza. Roadkill rented the entire dining room for us, set up in one long table with overflow in the booths. Three Tequila waved Lance and me over to sit with her and Mongo near the head of the table.

The tables were ready for us, with pizzas and pitchers already out. I took a few pieces of sausage and mushroom, then tossed them on Lance's plate. That was my favorite pizza, but now the mushrooms were making me a little nauseous. I ended up eating pepperoni pizza while trying to keep my hands clear of Mongo and his appetites.

I had a great time hearing about Rori and her time in the Orlando clubhouse while answering questions about my upbringing in the Sons. Three Tequila was a riot and had me laughing the whole time. I don't know how many pizzas disappeared in the forty-five minutes we were there, but it was a lot.

I felt better as we continued north, stopping at the rest area and visitor's center just before the Canadian border. Most of the group went through the checkpoint, headed to a biker bar in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Chase didn't want me out of the country, and my guards couldn't carry pistols into Canada. Others without a passport or enhanced driver's license, or those with DUI's on their record, stayed on this side too. Two dozen of us were going to hike in to see the falls on the Pigeon River.

I packed away my chaps, wool sweater, and leather jacket, keeping my jeans, T-shirt, hoodie, and the Ladies cut. The hike to the High Falls was pretty easy, with paved trails or decking the whole way. I took lots of photos with my phone from the different observation decks, most of them with Lance's arm around me. The High Falls are the biggest in Minnesota at a hundred-and-twenty-foot drop.

We had plenty of time before the rest of the group returned, so we continued on the trail another two miles upriver to the Middle Falls. The river was wild up here, with some channels narrow enough I thought I could leap into Canada if my jaguar had a running start. The waterfall was much smaller at a thirty-foot drop, but the volume of water and the proximity made it even more exciting. There were no other people around, so the werewolves and I stripped and shifted rather than get our clothes soaked. It felt great to be sniffing around and playing near the rushing rapids.

I didn't want to change back, so when it was time to go, I let one of the guys carry my clothes in his backpack. I wasn't the only one to stay in animal form as wolves raced around in the trees and played. We were nearly back to the trailhead by the High Falls when I heard a woman screaming for help.

We took off running, although the wolves were much faster. The mom was screaming for her young boy as the river carried him downstream towards the falls. The poor kid couldn't swim, and the rocks in the river might kill him before the falls had a chance to finish the job.

"GET BELOW HIM AND GET READY TO GRAB ME," I screamed in my head to Lance as I ran full-speed for the river. With a graceful leap, I splashed into the river and started swimming towards the helpless child. I reached him quickly, my teeth grabbing onto the collar of his jacket as I turned back to shore.

The fast spring currents swept me farther downstream as I fought to get us back to the riverbank. I looked around frantically for a fallen tree, a flat rock, or ANYTHING to get out of this current. I didn't see anything, and my paddling wasn't getting me anywhere.

This was going to hurt.

Ch. 59

Spider Monkey's POV
Arrowhead Pack House
Six Days Earlier

Vic woke me up from my nap, spoiling a hot dream about us on a deserted island. "Frank and Colletta are just pulling in, and they want to talk you your team right away."

Vic woke me up for work? Dang it, the dream was just getting good! I blinked my eyes as I checked the time, groaning because it had only been an hour. "Don't they need to relax and eat for a while first?"

"No, they slept on the plane. Come on." He helped me up, and I went to the bathroom right away. Bathroom trips were frequent as my pregnancy advanced, and I rarely slept more than four hours straight. If I didn't wake for the bathroom, my back was aching. I did my business, washed the sleep out of my eyes, and came back out. "I don't know what they want, but Chase asked me to keep an open mind."

"That doesn't sound good," I said.

"It usually isn't. Come on." It was nice enough to go outside, and we weren't under lockdown anymore. The breeze off the cold lake helped wake me up as we went up the hill to the Pack House. We were among the last to arrive at the Alpha's conference room. Our entire computer team was here; Brian, Rick, Teri, and Claire. Frank Donovan was standing behind Claire's wheelchair.

Vic and I took our seats near the Alphas and the Pack leadership. Frank and Colletta Grimes sat at the head of the table, along with Councilman Nehemiah Pensky and Council IT Specialist Lisa Funk. Colletta looked around the room; she didn't look happy. "I'm sorry to ask you here on such short notice, but a decision is required. I can't make it for you." Over the next twenty minutes, she and Frank laid out what was going on in Washington. I wasn't shocked at the scope of the rot, not after all the government computers I'd hacked. Every time I kicked over a rock, the bugs would scurry away and hide somewhere else.