Aztec Treasure Ch. 61-70

He sat up, holding my ass cheeks in his big hands before depositing me on my back. He scooted me until he was standing by the bed with my legs over his shoulders, making sure to keep my belly protected. He started fucking me with long, slow strokes while his fingers teased at my sensitive nipples and clit. He pushed me to two more orgasms before he told me he was ready.

"I want to taste it," I told him. He pulled out and moved me until I was on my side, a pillow under my head as he pushed his slippery cock into my waiting mouth. I used my lips and tongue to push him over the edge. I loved the feeling of his balls tightening and his cock pulsing as he filled my mouth with his seed. I swallowed quickly, barely keeping up at first, and kept sucking until he begged me to stop because he was too sensitive. I rolled onto my back, liking the remains from my lips. "Breakfast in bed is always a treat," I told him.

"You're such a horny mate now, baby. I can't imagine what will happen when you get a wolf."

"Lots of hard doggy-style sex, I'm hoping," I said as he picked me up in his arms. He moved us until he was on his back with me tucked into his left side, with his right hand splayed over my belly. "Now that you've made up for not waking me up when you came to bed, we can get another hour of sleep." I dozed off quickly to the sound of his breathing.

When I woke again, the clock said "9:27." Vic was gone, but there was a glass of water next to the clock. I took a drink, then quickly changed and went down the hall to my office. The computer hackers in my group were all at their workstations; the analysts and other team members were in the basement. "Hey, guys. I'm sorry I'm late."

Brian Steele laughed, and the human girls I'd brought in blushed. "We all heard why you were so tired and needed to sleep in," he teased. He took a sniff. "You're in your third trimester, Spider Monkey! You'd think Vic would realize no one is taking you from him."

It was a wolf thing; since I didn't bear his mating bite, someone else might move in on me. "He does like me covered with his scent," I agreed. "I would have taken a shower, but then he'd drag me back to the bedroom to make it obvious to humans. It's easier to come in here smelling like sex." I looked around the room. "How are we doing?"

"I'm still working on hacking the records of the Antigua bank," he said. The company that leased the black site oil rig was out of the Cayman Islands. We'd traced the bank transfer for the lease payment to a bank based in the Seychelles, then Panama, then Antigua. We had no idea how many more banks were between this account and the CIA front company. With every link, we were closer to the people behind it.

Others were looking into the backgrounds of the men captured and killed in the operations against Maria. We had identified most of them; all were ex-Special Forces in the United States or elsewhere. None of them were cooperating with the FBI. Frank Grimes suspected they were waiting it out, perhaps knowing the next President or CIA Director would let them go. Or, maybe they were confident in the fancy lawyers and their ability to get them free.

Or, maybe it was money flowing to their families while they held out. That was my assignment, to find the money trail and trace it back to the puppet masters.

It took almost a week before we came to the end of the money trail. Banco Mexico was a state-owned institution, which shocked me a little until I realized how rampant corruption was down there. The bank's official function was to support Mexican companies in the import-export market. A little digging showed these exports included cocaine, marijuana, and Fentanyl. What better bank to use to launder billions in cash?

The money trail included off-books accounts under the control of the CIA Station Chief in Mexico City. The audit we did on the bank records we found was troubling; for over five years, the CIA had been secretly funding their operations by aiding the Sinaloa Cartel in their smuggling and intelligence operations.

We had options, but all of them had risks. It was time for another meeting of the leadership.

Ch. 63

Maria Meztli's POV

Arrowhead Beta House

After Mother's Day, I never wanted to sleep alone again. I needed to talk to Spider Monkey and Vic about it; I'd been placed with them when I first arrived here, and I needed to respect their home. I caught up with my host Betas at breakfast, putting Maritza in the high chair as Vic served the French toast. "Now that I have a mate, what happens in terms of our living arrangements? I mean, Maritza and I are guests in your home, and Lance is living in a room in the basement of the Pack House."

Vic spoke first. "Nothing has to happen right away. We volunteered to host you so you'd be comfortable and safe."

I got Maritza's food cut up for her and started on my own. "I'm sure Lance will keep me safe, but I feel like I'm a burden, and now you guys are bringing in people to help with the investigation. We're taking up space you need for your guests."

Vic nodded. "I'll ask the Alphas at our morning meeting. I'm sure we can find you suitable rooms elsewhere with Lance. Long term, you should think about buying or building a house."

"A house?"

"Yep. Spidey and I bought this house from the previous Betas, who paid to build it on land leased from the Arrowhead Pack. Before then, we lived in a house over there." He pointed to a bare spot on the lakeshore, surrounded by construction fencing. "It was off Pack lands, which I needed because Spider Monkey didn't have Pack status at the time. Unfortunately, arsonists burned it down, and the home to the left had so much damage it had to come down. I sold the property to Chase before we moved back here. Loralei's blue house outside the gate just became available, and Chase snapped it up before she could hire a realtor. That adds another six hundred feet of shoreline, and ten acres of forest, to existing Pack lands once the papers go through."

"Are you moving the fence and the gate?"

He nodded. "As soon as the land transfers go through. Under our treaty with the Federal Government, the Pack Lands are exempt from state and local taxes. It also means we can add on, but we can't sell the property. As Pack members, you could lease one of the undeveloped plots between here and the beach and build your dream house. You could also buy Loralei's old place or build a home on one of the vacant lots. I'd prefer you stay closer to the Pack House for security reasons, though."

Yeah, being at the edge of the property wasn't a great idea. "How long would that take?"

"It depends on how you do it. When we built the initial homes, we started in the fall and focused on getting things up quickly. Most homes here used structural integrated panels built in factories, then connected to the foundations and finished. With normal construction? You could probably get it weather-tight before winter if you hustled, but next year is a better bet."

"I've got some money, but not enough," I said. My family's estate was still a legal mess, and my lawyers hadn't settled my lawsuit against the Feds yet. "Can I even get a mortgage?"

"Not on a place here, but you've got time. Let the Pack find you a place for the summer," Spider Monkey said. "Even if you build, you're going to need a place to stay for six months or more."

Vic nodded. "And you shouldn't rush decisions on your dream house."

"Good advice," I said. "I need to head into Duluth this afternoon to see my lawyers anyway. I can't make decisions until I know how much money I have."

Spider Monkey got up, holding her sore back. "What are you doing this morning?"

"Studying for midterms in physics and world history," I said with a roll of my eyes. Online classes sucked; I missed being around people, and I was trying to get through the courses and graduate as quickly as possible. "I'll spend lunch with Maritza, then head out."

"Have fun," Spider said. "I'll be in my office if you need anything."

"Or just link me," Vic said. They headed out to work as I cleaned Maritza up and took her to the Pack child care. I spent an hour reviewing the material in each subject before I took the online tests. I closed up my laptop and headed to the Pack House for lunch. Reuben day, and it was tasty.

Lance joined us with his plate as we were eating. "Papa! Eat!"

"How are my girls," Lance said as he gave Maritza's messy face a loud smooch.

"She got it all over your face," I said as I handed him a napkin.

He wiped the Thousand Island dressing off his cheek. He sat down and started to demolish the sandwich. "We leave in fifteen minutes?"

"Yes," he replied as he chewed. One nice thing about the link, eating didn't stop the conversation. I couldn't wait to see how it worked while riding. "Are you sure you're all right to take your bike? You could ride with me."

"My headaches are gone, and Doc cleared me," I replied. "I need this, Lance."

He nodded. "I can't blame you, and you can't blame me for trying." I laughed, and we finished up and took Maritza back to the nannies.

We geared up and pulled our bikes out of the garage, then headed for the gate with the security team trailing us in a minivan. It was different riding next to Lance than riding formation with a large group, but it was still a blast. The scenery between the Pack and Duluth was beautiful, and being able to carry on a conversation in my head was even better. It was all too soon when we pulled into the parking garage at the downtown office tower.

The conference room overlooking the harbor at the offices of Dewey, Dewitt & Howe was impressive. Our security waited in the lobby as Lance and I were escorted back into the offices. My team was waiting for me with smiles all around. On the other side of the table was a severe-looking man in a grey suit. "Good news?"

"This is Mr. Chambers from the Department of Justice. We have accepted a settlement offer, Maria. It's within the range we spoke of, and the paperwork is ready. All you have to do is sign the settlement and the non-disclosure agreement, and he will hand over the check."

"Let's see it," I said. My lawyer went through the agreement, having me initial in various places before signing off on it and the non-disclosure agreement. The CIA's assassination of the Sons leadership and the innocents around them now had a cost attached to it.

Of course, so did my silence.

Mr. Chambers handed over a check to my lawyer, then extended his hand to me. "You have my sympathies," he said.

"Thank you." He let my hand go, but I wanted more. "There's one other thing I'd like, Mr. Chambers."

"The agreement is final now," he said.

"This isn't about money. The remains of my mother and other family members are still in Mexico, perhaps in a military morgue or buried in an unmarked grave," I said. "I would appreciate their return for proper burial. I'd cover the expenses, of course."

"I will look into it," he said.

He walked out, and I sat back down. "Maybe we should have asked for more?"

"Forty-five million dollars is a fair settlement. We might have gotten more if we played hardball, but a quick settlement allows everyone to move on," Mr. Howe said. "We will deposit the check and transfer you the remainder into your bank account. Our fees and taxes will be withheld, of course. You should have it within two business days."

It still pissed me off that the Federal Government could pay me twenty million dollars with their right hand, then take eight million back in taxes with their left. Minnesota took their tribute as well, pushing the take close to fifty percent. Still, in two days, I'd have over eleven million in my bank and a matching amount in Maritza's trust. I owed Spider Monkey and Chase big time; without the threat of the drone video release, I'd have gotten nothing. I thanked my lawyers, then allowed Lance to escort me out of the office.

With my fortune, I'd be able to repay Arrowhead Pack for all they had done for me and set up a future with Lance. I wouldn't ever have to work to support us so I could focus on Pack and family. "Time to look at lake home designs," I told Lance in the elevator on the way down.

"Boats are cool, and waterskis," he replied. I smiled and shook my head; boys and their toys. Our home must have a dock, right?

Ch. 64

Spider Monkey's POV

Arrowhead Pack, Alpha Conference Room

Chase had gathered everyone for a strategy session as soon as Vic told him what we had. Around the table were the key players; Chase sat at the far end of the table with Rori next to him. Vic and I were to his right, with Brian Steele next to us. Colletta and Frank Grimes were to Chase's left, with Roadkill and Possum farther down. "I didn't invite Frank Donovan intentionally," Chase said. "The downstairs group will not be involved in this part unless we agree to bring them in."

It was an upstairs/downstairs division of labor. Legitimate investigations, using the information provided by the FBI or other government agencies, all happened in the basement. Our independent investigators were mostly retired government service. They would not appreciate involvement in illegal activities that could threaten their pensions or their freedom. They were there as a shadow Task Force looking into the CIA and the attacks on the President, in case the bad guys had people inside the real Task Force.

The illegal shit all happened in my office, where only trusted Pack members and hacker friends of mine were allowed in. My team didn't need search warrants or probable cause; if we needed something, we broke into the computer system and took it.

Frank Grimes, the former DEA agent now with Homeland Security, was the go-between. If the guys downstairs were running into walls, he'd ask us to break them down. If we found something the team downstairs (or in Washington) should know about, he'd find a way to clue them in. It was a high-stress job, and it was showing. The constant calls and travel left him exhausted. He lifted his tired eyes at me. "I heard you found something?"

"I traced the money used to lease the offshore oil rig back to its source," I told him. I laid it out; the bank transfers, the shell companies, and Banco Mexico's use by the Sinaloa Cartel and the CIA. "In the past five years, the Cartel has transferred almost two hundred million dollars into accounts controlled by the CIA. The Agency then uses the 'off the books' money for covert operations and enrich those in charge."

"How are they doing this?"

"The Cartel has to launder billions in cash. The Cartel uses dozens of CIA front companies to bring the money to the banks. If there are any questions, the CIA uses its contacts in Mexico to shut them down. The front companies then 'buy' goods from Cartel businesses, and the bank transfers them the money. I've just scratched the surface; it's a big operation. The best part is if the DEA or anyone else gets close, the CIA stops the investigation and shuts down the companies involved. Nobody ever asks where the money is coming from or where it is going."

Chase shook his head. "I can't believe the CIA is working with a drug cartel."

"It's nothing new," Frank said. "The Reagan Administration sold arms to Iran and used some of the money to fund a rebellion in Nicaragua; this allowed them to bypass restrictions prohibiting direct support of the Contras. As for working with the Cartels, the CIA and other agencies have been doing that for decades. The CIA helped move opium out of Laos to support the secret war they'd opened up next to Vietnam. Of course, they never did it directly; they just supplied arms, aircraft, and protection of the drug shipments. Nicaragua, Mexico, Honduras, Panama, Venezuela? People have accused the CIA of supporting or actively transporting drugs in all those nations."

"You can't trust the Cartels," Roadkill protested.

"The cartels are the true power in Mexico, not the government," Frank said sadly. "Whole swaths of Mexican territory are under their exclusive control. The police are hopelessly compromised and outgunned, and the military can only control its bases and fixed positions. The DEA has known this for years, Spider. If we are honest, we've already lost the war on drugs. After thirty years, we have more supply and lower prices than ever."

"So you're joining in?"

"No, but we work to keep them fighting each other. We cultivate sources within the Cartels who are happy to use us to take out their competitors. Keeping them fragmented is the only thing keeping Mexico from being a narco-state on our southern border. Imagine a powerful Cartel controlling the entire country? I don't like what the CIA is doing, but I'm not thrilled about some of the operations I oversaw either. We'd look the other way to gain something elsewhere."

I shook my head; moral clarity wasn't a virtue in intelligence OR hacking.

Chase got us back on track. "You've discovered these links, so the real question is 'now what?' Spider, what exactly have you gained access to within Banco Mexico?"

"I've got access to the account records," I replied. "We are still downloading information and following the money trails. There is a lot of work left, as the oil rig lease wasn't the only transfer bounced around to multiple banks. The bank records show that three men have account rights, and one of them is the CIA's station chief in Mexico City." I put Henry Consuellar's photograph on the screen. "The second man, Daniel French, was the CIA's Deputy Director of Covert Operations until Julio killed him on the oil rig."

"And the last man?"

"Is a dead end. 'Daniel Alejandro Cortez' appears in no government databases, and Mexican immigration records do not show him. It is a false identity for an unknown person."

Frank sat back in his chair. "Or the CIA had his information removed from the system." His finger tapped on the table. "The only link we have is the CIA station chief."

"What do you recommend?"

"Well, the simple option would be to download the account records and anonymously turn them over to the Task Force. They use the information to get warrants, arrest the Station Chief, crawl through the data to uncover where the money went, and keep pulling the weed until you've got it out by the roots. We end the conspiracy, declare victory, and have a pool party."

I smiled at that. Vic was the first to pick up on why simple might not be the best answer. "And as soon as the Task Force has his name and the data, he disappears before they can get a warrant. The money disappears to accounts unknown, and the people responsible spend their retirement days sipping umbrella drinks at a Mexican beach resort."

"That's the risk," Frank said. "These CIA men aren't stupid. Any records get destroyed before the arrest team makes it into the compound, and they won't keep anything incriminating at the Embassy."

Vic nodded. "So what is the alternative?"

"I can think of a few things," Frank said. "One is to go directly to the President with this. She could send a team, probably military, to capture the Station Chief and his men along with the information in their Safe House. There's less chance of losing him or the records, but you'd have a military assault on CIA agents who won't know they are on the same side. People will get killed."

Chase didn't like this idea either. "Or?"

"We do it ourselves," Frank replied. "A team of warriors goes to Mexico City and assaults the Safe House, capturing all the information we can and bringing back the Station Chief with us. It's the only way to avoid someone tipping them off. It's not just the President that can't trust her people, Chase. We can't either."

Chase put his head in his hands. "Let's say for a moment I'm not ready to declare war on the CIA. What else can we do?"