Aztec Treasure Ch. 71-80

There were murmurs at this; cooperation in Mexico wasn't always welcome or effective. It didn't sound like Laura Kettering cared what they thought. "The names of those people charged with conspiracy will be available on the Justice Department website. We will not waver, and we will not fail. Thank you, and may God continue to bless the United States of America."

With that, she walked out. The press was going wild, and it was only beginning.

Ch. 73

President Laura Kettering's POV
White House Situation Room

The simple thing would have been to bomb the compound until it was a pile of rubble, but there were wives and children in there. I wasn't willing to take the collateral damage from that. The drone video showed the guards on the perimeter fencing and patrolling the home and rooftops. "One minute to target," the voice said.

The target was in the mountains above Imala, a small town east of the capital of Culiacan. It lay in the state of Sinaloa on the eastern shore of the Gulf of California. The drone footage was infrared, as it was four in the morning local time, with only a sliver of moon to light the May night. I'd given the 'go' order forty-three minutes ago. The USS Makin Island (LHD-8) amphibious assault ship was the lead element of the Marine Amphibious Group I'd diverted three days ago to the west coast of Mexico. They had moved into the Gulf of California at sundown. The Marine Expeditionary Unit embarked on the task force included the twelve V-22 Osprey tiltrotor aircraft and six AH-1Z Viper attack helicopters of the Knightriders of VMM-164.

"Initiate attack runs." Just because there were noncombatants in the compound didn't mean we weren't going to blow things up. The drone launched a missile at the front gate, blasting the heavy steel doors open. The low-flying attack helicopters came into view. Two Vipers started lighting up the vehicles in the courtyard and the garage with their Hellfire missiles and 20mm rotary cannon. The other four Vipers took out the guards along the fence and on top of the roof. With their initial targets destroyed, the helicopters starting circling the compound to provide fire support.

The guns were quiet as the first tiltrotors arrived. Marines from the 15^th Marine Expeditionary Unit out of Camp Pendleton started fast-roping out the back onto the roof or the surrounding lawn, while others landed outside the gates on the road. The Marines stormed the house as the Vipers brutally eliminated any visible opposition. The Marines took casualties; I counted four men down in front of the house and two in the back. I could see the flashes of weapons firing, and it was an anxious few minutes before the ground commander reported the building was secure. "X-ray One is KIA," the commander reported back.

The head of the Sinaloa Cartel was dead.

The mission shifted to intelligence gathering as Marines escorted the prisoners out of the palatial estate. Other Marines carried their wounded and dead back to the waiting Ospreys. As the aircraft filled up, they took off so the others could land. It was less than fifteen minutes before the last Osprey lifted off to head for the carrier.

The Vipers had been busy discouraging law enforcement and the Mexican military from interfering with the operations. The Mexican President would be furious at my use of US troops on Mexican soil. Well, fuck him and the horse he rode in on. We didn't cooperate because the Mexican Government is hopelessly corrupt and penetrated by the Cartels; any notification of our intent would result in more dead Marines.

The feed went dead as the drone headed back to base. It took a few minutes for the casualty report to make it to the Commandant of the Marine Corps. "Madam President, we lost two Marines tonight. Two more are seriously injured, four have minor injuries. We killed twenty-seven Cartel members and captured twelve, seven of them injured."

"Women and children?"

"No casualties. We locked them in a room until the Mexican authorities arrive." He let out a breath. "It could have been a lot worse."

"I never doubted their ability to complete the mission. Your Marines performed admirably," I said. During the planning phase, casualty estimates ranged between five and thirty, a high cost to avoid civilian casualties. I let out a sigh of relief as the aircraft called in "feet wet," meaning they were back over the ocean.

I called the Mexican President then, informing him of the operation and the Cartel leadership we'd taken out. He raged at me, but what could he do? I promised him additional aid in fighting the remaining Cartels. The Gulf, Los Zetas, and Jalisco New Generation Cartels were already gobbling up Sinaloa territory like a pack of hyenas on an injured zebra. Fifteen of the top eighteen Cartel leaders died in the week since I declared war, and we'd only killed ten of them. The other Cartels were more than happy to give up locations and names of Sinaloa leadership for us to eliminate. We'd also used drones and undercover agents, taking out production and distribution facilities throughout the countryside.

Would it make any difference in the drug war? Not in the long run. The other Cartels would take over the smuggling routes, surviving soldiers would sign on with new leadership, and the drugs would continue to flow. It wasn't about the drug war, though. It was personal.

I looked at my watch; it was seven-forty in the morning, and I'd been up since one. "Clear my schedule until noon," I told my Chief of Staff. "I want a briefing then about what remains of Sinaloa and how we are going to eliminate it."

The team around the table stood as I did and stayed standing until I was out the door. Three Secret Service agents and one large wolf escorted me back to the elevator, then to my residence. Exhausted, I took a shower and crawled into bed.

The wakeup came all too soon. I had enough time to dress, and lunch was waiting for me in the Oval Office. I ate quickly as my Chief of Staff updated me on my schedule.

At noon, my 'war' staff gathered in the Oval Office. My Director of National Intelligence, General Curtis Ripley, summed up the problem. "The remaining leadership has gone to ground, taking their loyal troops with them. I think they know they can't keep their entire territory, but they are trying to retain their base around Culiacan. We'll keep looking."

I looked over at my Attorney General. "How are we doing on freezing their assets?"

"Not as well as I hoped," she said. "Accounts with Banco Mexico are cleaned out. We're having no luck with some of the offshore banks and their secrecy laws. They aren't cooperating."

"You can't just take the money from the accounts as Spider Monkey did?"

"If it ever came out that the United States Government hacked foreign bank accounts and stole assets, the blowback would be bad," my Treasury Secretary said. "It would shake confidence in the banking system and open us up to retaliatory hacking."

"So we don't do it directly," I said. "There has to be a better way. As long as they have money and people, there is a chance they can make a comeback. I need them destroyed." I looked over to my left, where a pregnant Colletta was resting in a chair. "Is there anything your people can do?"

"The pardon letter doesn't cover future acts," Colletta replied. "Even if you gave me another one, Spider Monkey is in hiding for good reasons. It's not just Sinaloa Cartel retaliation she is facing; the other Cartels and Organized Crime figures know she was able to take a billion dollars away from the Cartel in minutes. How much would they be willing to sacrifice to get that kind of person working for them?"

I shuddered; Spider had taken one for the team. The theft and the pardon letter had come out two days after the declaration of war. Naturally, I was shocked that I'd signed a blanket pardon without knowing the full scope of her crimes (heh heh) and would look into any alternatives to bring her to justice. Signing another would be taking a huge political risk. "She's an important asset, and I need her help. The question is how to make it politically palatable."

"It's not like she hasn't done it before," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs replied. "We are at war with the Cartel. We shouldn't apologize for using any means, legal or not, to destroy the enemy."

"You're opening a huge can of worms if you knowingly sanction international banking theft," the Treasury Secretary said.

"I need to stop this conversation right now," Colletta stated. "Spider Monkey has sacrificed so much already. She is about to give birth to her first child while hiding from people who would torture and kill her to get the money back. She's gone and may never be able to return home again. She won't even use a computer because it could give her location away. I won't accept anything that endangers her life and that of her family. She's already got the billion dollars; what can you offer her that she can't get on her own?"

I could see her point. "So, what would you suggest?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Keep doing what you are doing. The Sinaloa Cartel is circling the drain. We've taken their money, destroyed their assets, and decimated their leadership. Their time is running out even if you do nothing more! Another Cartel, probably Jalisco, will move into their territory and wipe out the last of them. It's inevitable."

I could see others nodding. "Fine. Colletta, please return in two weeks with any other ideas you may have."

"Of course, Madam President."

The meeting ended, and it was back to a packed schedule. No one can prepare you for how physically demanding this job is before you take it. The pressure is intense, and wakeups are common. It is no wonder a two-term president looks like they have aged two decades.

I had a plan for that, though. After being sworn in for another term, I would find myself a mate and become a werewolf.

I'd have another century to live after leaving office.

Ch. 74

Maria Meztli's POV
Arrowhead Pack Grounds

It was finally happening, and I was nervous as hell about it.

It was Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, and there were bikers and vehicles EVERYWHERE. A lot had happened in the last few weeks, and we were ready to party. The Sinaloa Cartel was no more; President Kettering had announced the short and brutal war was over two days ago. The conspiracy against her was broken, with dozens imprisoned awaiting trial or cutting deals with the prosecution to testify against the others. And the checks had arrived.

Remember the billion dollars that Spider Monkey liberated from the Sinaloa accounts? Her pardon deal with the Feds allowed her to bring the money into the United States, provided she paid taxes. Spider Monkey and Vic did spend weeks hiding in a cabin in the White Mountains, but they'd been hiding with tax lawyers and financial advisors. BDSM (Big Dog-Spider Monkey) already had millions in the bank, and they wanted to spread the wealth.

How does $30k per Pack member sound? Those were the checks we received in the mail; Vic and Spidey each sent the max $15k tax-exempt gift allowed to each person. And not just in Arrowhead; she did that for every North American Pack. Since Canada has no gift tax, the Blue River, Banff, and Belorutsk Pack members got to keep the full thirty as well. There were a lot of new motorcycles making this trip.

Then, they donated ten million dollars to each Pack's corporation. The Alphas would use this to fund improvements, buy additional land, or reduce Pack debt. Arrowhead and Oxbow Lake, as the home Packs, each got an additional ten million "because we need a bigger pool," as the letter said. Chase said he'd get right on that. Finally, she set aside money in a trust to pay educational expenses for North American werewolves.

Spider Monkey took care of her Steel Ladies in the deal. She sent a million dollars to each of the Steel Lady chapters in the United States to, and I quote, "buy the shit we need that the men don't think is important." I've been laughing my ass off as the Ladies showing up told stories of what they are doing with the money; playgrounds, daycare facilities, new furnishings, even a dedicated Ladies-only meeting room. It's their money, and the Brotherhood can't touch it.

Finally, BDSM sent me a debit card connected to an account to cover expenses for the first annual Steel Brotherhood Lake Superior Loop ride. I just about fainted when I saw the amount and read what she told me to do with it. Those that showed up, and there were a LOT of them, wouldn't have to pay a thing. Gas stations? I keep running the card and pay for it all. Hotels? I've reserved as many rooms as I can get. Food? I've got the tab. For a ten-day ride, it would be quite the bill.

The entire Pack House dining hall was full after breakfast for the pre-ride brief, with all three wings packed with wolves and bikers. Lance and I had worked hard on logistics, and we'd planned a ride with plenty of options for both serious riding and exploring. We laid out the rules and the first day's ride; we would email out future days the night before. Many of the restaurants along the way wouldn't be able to handle our entire group at once. In the bigger towns, there would be multiple restaurant options. When there was only one place to eat, I broke the ride into groups who would eat and explore in shifts. I'd also picked a few beaches to stop at and arranged for catering companies to provide food for us there. The ten-day trip required about a hundred and fifty miles of riding a day, which wasn't a hard pace at all. If we ran into traffic or weather delays, we could easily catch back up.

It wasn't just the bikers, either. The Loop was a family-friendly ride, and we had two dozen recreational vehicles at the tail end of the formation. The majority of Arrowhead and Oxbow Lake Pack were going, including those not interested in motorcycles but wanting the adventure. They would be driving in the RVs, the support vans, or cars. All in, we had almost two hundred people going, and they were all following my plan.

As you can imagine, with this many people and Packs, communications would be a challenge. Pack Links were the answer to that. I worked it so that each vehicle had a member of the Arrowhead Pack onboard to relay directions. Since we had worked so closely with our landlords during planning, Roadkill was the Road Captain for the ride. He would ride in the front left spot. The Host Chapter President, Alpha Chase, would ride in the front right and relay commands back to all the Pack members. Arrowhead Pack members would relay it to other wolves, who could pass it to their Packs. Possum would split her time between riding with her old man and watching Rori and the kids in Rori's new RV.

If someone wanted to head off on their own, that was fine. I handed everyone a paper with the itinerary and waypoints, including the 'extra' runs for the adventurous. If you wanted to leave the group for a while, you checked out with the Ride Administrator on duty in the Alpha's RV and caught up later. If you broke down, one of the Club support vans would break off, and the Prospects along would assist you. If your butt couldn't handle more saddle time, we had trailers and room in the support vehicles. If there weren't enough hotel rooms, we'd pack people into the RVs, and we'd brought tents and sleeping bags.

When I finished the briefing on the itinerary and logistics, Roadkill reviewed formation riding practices and hand signals. We had to keep the motorcycles together, or cars would start breaking us up. The riding order was by rank; Brotherhood Presidents and Pack Alphas were in front, followed by Vice Presidents, Master at Arms, and Betas. Patched members were behind them, followed by normal-rank Pack members, prospects, and finally, the cars and RV's. We had four pairs of 'blockers' who would ride near the front; their job was to leapfrog ahead, blocking cross-traffic so our column could stay together. A Pack SUV would be the last vehicle in line, bearing a warning sign on the back of the rider column ahead.

This trip wasn't a ride; it was a military expedition. The only thing it didn't have was firearms; since we were going into Canada, our visitors who carried locked them up in our Pack Armory. We had security in numbers; who would mess with dozens of bikers, many of whom turned into wolves?

Alpha Chase and a few Brotherhood leaders finished up the brief, and it was time to ride. Lance was back with the Prospects, and I was riding with him. As much as I enjoyed our last trip when I rode alone, I had a lot going on this trip. I knew I might have to help handle crises from the RV once in a while, and I didn't want to load my bike every time that happened. Riding next to me was FBI Agent Lana Black, assigned to my protection on the trip. She was the only armed person in the group, with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police granting her permission. She was riding a BMW 1250 RT touring bike in bright white, and it stood out among the chrome and black of the Harleys.

The line stretched from the main entry to Arrowhead to the beach. Chase fired up his Harley, and like a rolling wave, the noise moved from front to back as everyone started their bikes. The local Sheriff did us a solid, a cruiser with flashing lights leading us through Two Harbors and north on Highway 61.

The first stop was optional but was a must for first-time visitors. Split Rock Lighthouse is one of the most-photographed buildings in Minnesota, and the State Park is a lot of fun. A little over half the group pulled in for a 90-minute stop; the rest continued north to Grand Marais and Sven and Ole's Pizza, the lunch stop on our tour. When they finished eating, the lighthouse group was arriving. Chase led a group on a short ride up into the Lakes area while others shopped in the tourist town. We all left together, heading for the next tour stop. We all pulled into a rest area just before the Grand Portage Border Crossing.

Chase herded everyone back to the trails heading to the High Falls on the Pigeon River while Possum and the others herded me into Rori's RV. Ten minutes later, with my hair done and a veil over my face, the group led me up to where everyone was waiting below the Falls. I started crying as I spotted Lance waiting for me in his Prospect cut, Chase standing by his side. "Are you ready to get married," Roadkill asked.

"Absolutely," I told him as I wiped tears, thankful for waterproof mascara. Someone had a boom box playing the wedding march, and tourists and bikers alike were taking pictures of us as we walked up the trail to them. One of the Brotherhood members was an ordained minister, and the service flew by. We exchanged vows and rings, he pronounced us husband and wife, and I kissed the hell out of him. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the road and heading to Thunder Bay for dinner and our first night.

We left our group at dinner early and made the most of our wedding night.

Ch. 75

Maria (Meztli) Skollson's POV
Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada

My phone alarm went off, rousing me out of deep sleep. I rolled over and turned it off, groaning as my body protested the movements. Lance had used his new wife hard and often on his wedding night, and it would take a bit for my body to recover. "Come on, my husband," I said as I sat up. The sheet pooled around my waist as I stretched my arms and back.

"Mmmm, that's a sight I'll never get tired of," he said.

"Shower." I got out of bed and padded my way to the hotel bathroom, eventually ending up in the shower with the hot water pouring over my face. I sensed him coming in behind me and smiled. "Didn't you get enough of me last night?"