Aztec Treasure
Compromised

Frank Grimes’ POV

Bitterroot Pack Grounds

I got the news that Julio was trapped in the woods next to the Pennsylvania Turnpike about twenty minutes before my phone rang again. It was Alexander Strickland, the Director of Homeland Security. “Frank Grimes, sir,” I answered.

“I need you in the office as soon as possible,” Strickland said. “We’ve got a break in the Salazar case, and the President wants you involved.”

“Is Julio dead?”

“He’ll be dead or captured soon. The Monongahela Pack is coming up to assist.”

“Good idea.” I looked at my watch; it would be an hour before I could get to the airport, but would I have a crew to fly? “I’m in Montana now. I’ll fly as soon as I can.”

Colletta looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have a mate who needs your help with Council stuff?”

“I know. I’ll let the Director know I need to focus on recruiting wolves instead of actual law enforcement.” I told him I’d call when I had an arrival time, then hung up.

We pulled into the driveway outside the big Pack House. I could see Alpha Boris and Luna Nikita Serada standing outside. “We’ll make this quick and head back. I’ll need to be there when the President takes back her office anyway.”

“I’ll call the pilots as soon as the greetings finish.” Since they were Russian Alphas, the greetings involved hugging, kissing cheeks, and vodka. Boris was a bear of a man, both friendly and dangerous. When Colletta went into the office to talk about the Russian Government’s offer, I stepped outside and called the pilots.

Refueling the plane wasn’t the issue; FAA-required crew rest periods were. “Earliest we can depart is 0600 when the airport opens,” he said.

A little checking on my phone showed I’d never make it to Washington flying commercial, not after the time we’d have to spend here. “That’s fine. We’ll be there by five-thirty.” I linked to Colletta with the update and headed back inside. We were the guests of honor at dinner, and despite the language barriers, I could see how happy the Pack was to be free.

As expected, they were hesitant about the Russian offer. “We like it here,” Luna Nikita said as she summed it up. “The Pack lands are extensive, the mountains remind us of home, and we have the opportunities that come with being in America. Having the infrastructure already established saves us time and money.” The existing facilities were a big deal; the Beloretsk Pack would need a year to build everything up in British Colombia.

“How are the talks with the Governor going,” I asked.

“It helps that we weren’t here until a few months ago,” Alpha Boris said. “The cadaver dogs and search teams are still out there recovering bodies. Thank Luna that only some of them were human.” The previous Alpha had kidnapped and bred humans to build Pack numbers, giving up only when he found the resulting wolves were all weak Omegas. The missing people went back seventy years, and the Montana State Police and FBI were both involved in the exhumations and testing.

“And that everyone involved in the kidnappings is already dead at our hands,” I said.

Colletta nodded. “The wisdom of the Council in abolishing the previous Pack helped. When we confiscated the wealth of the old leadership, it allowed us to establish a restitution fund for the victims. That has gone a long way towards defusing public anger.”

The rest of the evening went well. The big topic was, of course, mates. “We used to tell ourselves that our isolation was the reason we didn’t find our mates,” Nikita said. “Now, we’ve had several gatherings of all the unmated around the world, and still we have people who are alone. I’m curious about the two of you. I understand you found Frank shortly after you lost your previous mate.”

Colletta smiled and reached for my hand. “I did, though I wasn’t looking for it. Frank and I just clicked from the first time we met. By the time my wolf figured out he was more than a fling, my human side was already in love.”

“Could you talk to our unmated? They need hope, both for those who lost a mate and those whose mate might not be a wolf.”

“Of course.” That was a fun meeting, with seven females and six males joining us for a frank (pun intended) discussion. We went to bed early, rising at four to return to the airport. We slept most of the way, punching another ticket on the Mile High Club as we passed over Ohio. I loved flying in private aircraft!

A limo met us at the airport to take us downtown. It dropped me off at the FBI Building; Colletta would continue to the White House. “I’ll see you tonight,” I told her.

“I’ll have a car sent for you.”

I went through Security and got an escort to the Salazar task force area. The briefing was an eye-opener, as the RV they were driving was a treasure trove of clues. The Javelin missile was very concerning, as the warhead could take out a vehicle or grounded aircraft. The worst part was that it was fire-and-forget from up to two miles away, well outside of the Secret Service protective zone. By the time they reacted, the shooters could already be gone. “How the hell did they get ahold of this?”

“Probably the same pipeline as the Stinger missiles,” one of the agents said. “This particular launcher was reported destroyed in Afghanistan during an IED strike.”

“Afghanistan? That doesn’t sound like a cartel source.”

“That’s what concerns us, Frank,” Director Strickland said as he walked in with the FBI Director, Hugh Patterson. “I can’t think of why the missile would be back in the States without the CIA.”

“We’ve been digging through the CIA’s operations without much success,” Hugh continued. “Everything is compartmentalized, and the leadership is dead or lawyering up. We don’t know how far down the rot goes. The CIA could have obtained the missiles, but that isn’t the most concerning thing we found.”

That didn’t sound good. “What else?”

“Detailed information on the President’s schedule, movements, and protection strategies over the next two weeks,” Hugh replied. “Stuff they only could have gotten from the Secret Service, which has Valerie Grunwald shitting bricks.” I could bet; such information was the Holy Grail for anyone targeting the President. “Julio had everything he needed to plan and carry out an assassination of the President.”

That wasn’t good. “Is there a mole, or is it a security breach?”

“We don’t know yet. We’ve got a team working with the Secret Service to pin down where the information came from and who had access to it. If we can pull the string, we’re closer to the conspiracy.”

“And it’s a big one,” I said. “You’d need high-level people and money to do this.” I looked around at the people from multiple agencies who were part of the investigation. “You said you needed me, Director. How can I help?”

Director Strickland met my eyes. “You’re an expert on the Cartels, Frank. We know Julio and the Sons worked with the Sinaloa Cartel.”

“And the Cartel turned on the Sons leadership and killed them,” I replied.

“Yes. That doesn’t mean Julio don’t have contacts with them or with other Cartels from his time. We both know that they have the money to get anything. A Cartel probably took the Stinger from the Mexican military. The Javelin might be a black market acquisition.”

“Mexico hasn’t purchased any Javelins,” Hugh said.

It was a lot to take at once. “It could be both, you know. The CIA has a long history of working with drug cartels and arms dealers since before Iran-Contra. I’ve made a few Cartel busts only to have the CIA claim their asset.”

Hugh gestured to a cubicle near the office by the window. “Your desk is over here. I’ll have Agent Thompson introduce you around.” The two directors walked out, probably to a high-level meeting. I turned to shake hands with my new office mates.

This investigation was a shitstorm of epic proportions. At a minimum, senior elements of the Secret Service and other agencies are working with a Cartel.

Worst case? The CIA was actively plotting to kill the President.

Could the Task Force find the people responsible? I wasn’t so sure. Hugh was frustrated with the pace of the CIA probe, and there might be compromised agents within the investigation.

It was time to talk to Colletta; we needed to use Spider Monkey, Claire Bennington, Frank Donovan, and other Pack resources to do an independent investigation. We had to find these people before they succeeded in taking out our President.

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