Aztec Treasure Ch. 01-10

Maritza crawled over and pulled herself to her feet between my legs as we sat down to eat. I held my baby on my lap, letting her munch on a fry while I bit into a Double Quarter Pounder with cheese and bacon. "Oh, how I missed this," I said as I wiped the grease from my chin.

"We can talk after you eat," he said as he bit into his chicken sandwich.

I gave bits of burger and bun to Maritza as I ate, not stopping until I was beyond full. Christian had finished his meal and watched me eat with amusement as he set the gym bag on his lap. I took a long drink of the vanilla shake and sat back to listen. "First off, here are Maritza's identity papers." He took out the birth certificate and social security card. "You will have to apply for a passport if you need one."

I just shook my head, no. "The Cartel is still looking for Sons. I'm never going to Mexico again."

"That would be best." He handed over the title for the Escape. "I backdated the sale of the Prius to before your father left, then traded it in on this one, which I then sold to you privately. I'm sorry it took so long. The title is clean and in your new name. I figured it was close to what you were used to, and it's in good shape. A used car will raise fewer flags since I paid cash for the difference. I did have my mechanic go through it while I was waiting for the new title to arrive, and he installed the car seat for you."

"It's nice, thank you." I was glad to have a car back just in case.

"I'll get it parked in your garage when I leave. It's still best if no one sees you, and you don't go into town. Keep it ready to leave at any time, with a go-bag packed and ready. If you have to make a rapid exit from here, have all your money and papers in one place."

That made sense. "I've got a bag ready under the sink."

"Add these to them." He handed over a stack of plastic cards. "Stacks of cash can lead to trouble in quantity, so I got you these. These are gift cards for gas stations, restaurants, fast food, Walmart, grocery stores, and a few other places. Reloadable Visa debit cards, each one has a thousand dollars on it. Keep a selection in your purse, and hide the rest in your car."

"How much is there?"

"Over ten grand in cash equivalent. There's more in the car, hidden in the padding under the car seat. You've got fifty grand there, but save it for emergencies. These are debit cards for legitimate accounts I set up in your name. As I'm able to clear funds from your estate, I'll transfer them over in a way that doesn't attract attention."

"Just how much money are we talking, Christian?"

"Right now, I have almost a hundred grand freed up for your use. Maybe five times that will eventually come."

Wow. "Dad had that much money?"

"He had an exit strategy for his family, and he had hidden investments and properties that will take some time to liquidate. Officially, you are dead, and you are safer that way."

"I wasn't part of the Sons, and I don't know anything about what they did," I complained.

"It won't matter. You're dealing with Cartel and Feds, Maria. The Cartel will kill you because of what you might know, while the Feds will take everything your father wanted me to give to you. I'm doing everything I can to launder this money and get it to you, and it's not easy. The FBI and Treasury department are crawling through everything associated with the Club, looking for any more money they can seize. There isn't much left for them to find now. Once they stop digging around, I'll be able to finish the job."

"How long am I staying here?"

"Ideally, you'd stay out of sight until the Sons of Tezcatlipoca Task Force winds down and people stop looking for you. All it takes is one person recognizing you and making a call to the cops, and it's over."

He was right. "Should I leave the Denver area instead of staying here?"

"No. I'd have a tough time arranging a safe house as good as this one, and any movement involves risk. I'll stop by once a month or so; I can justify checking on a property I'm paying maintenance on, but more often could raise questions. Don't use the phone and don't do email or anything on the Internet that might lead authorities back to you."

"What about school?"

"Your new identity shows you to be an 18-year-old high school graduate, Maria. It was easy enough to put your transcript into the computer of a public school in Kansas City. As long as no one talks to your classmates, it will hold up. The guys we use to make these identities are worth every penny, Maria. As long as you don't give the authorities a good reason to dig into your background, they'll hold up."

"What about college? Can I do that while I'm stuck here?"

"I don't want to see your new identity tied to this address, Maria. Be patient; you have a toddler to raise, and she's going to be a handful."

He had no idea. We talked for another twenty minutes, then he went outside and pulled his Lexus out, replacing it in the garage with my Ford. He tossed me the key as I stood in the kitchen door. "I'll see you next month," he told me. "You're doing great as a Mom, I can tell."

"Thank you, Christian. Drive safe." I watched him drive away, then went back inside to play with Maritza.

Life was much nicer with fresh food. Maritza was a good baby, sleeping through the night and napping several times a day, so I had plenty of time to do things. I kept the news on during the day and started researching what happened to the Sons.

I'd always known my father wasn't law-abiding, nor was the club. Things they did to earn their money weren't discussed outside Church, the patched members' business meeting. I was a Club Princess, and the closest I ever came to Church was delivering beer. Mom wasn't stupid; she must have known they were into drugs, guns, and prostitution.

Anyone could read the paper to know that, but the club I knew was full of strong men who looked after me like their own. No one dared pick on me at school, and no teacher would fail me. The Clubhouse was a safe place for me, filled with fun and family. It was supposed to be my life; I'd leave the Denver chapter when I married a werejaguar from another club.

I started researching on my own. I had pages of my notebook filled with notes from the stories I found on the Internet. The FBI investigation and indictments against Club members laid out exactly how violent and criminal the Sons empire was. I shook my head as I read about the members who had 'flipped' in exchange for reduced sentences, something no one had EVER done before. I guessed that when all the Sons chapters got wiped off the map, the threat of retaliation against snitches wasn't as effective.

Once I knew how the club had collapsed, I started looking at the why. It all traced back to one man's actions two decades earlier; the DEA undercover agent who infiltrated the Satan's Riders motorcycle club. The agent set up a bust where a President's wife died, and the Sons never forgot. They tracked down now-retired DEA agent Sean "Easy" Ryder in Florida and sent men to kill him and his family.

Simple revenge exploded into open warfare with the larger and law-abiding Steel Brotherhood motorcycle club. They were no outlaw gang but had many former military and law enforcement members that put up stiff resistance to the Sons attack. My cousin Jose Coreirra, who my Mom suspected I might end up mated to, was killed in the war along with the entire membership of the New Orleans chapter.

I watched the funeral service for the Steel Brotherhood and their Ladies killed in the Orlando attack. One of the girls, Harleigh, was about her age, a Club Princess like me. I felt guilty for her, knowing how the Sons would have raped and tortured her before putting a bullet in her head. My distant uncle Jesus even spoke, trying to distance the other Chapters from the violence.

Things seemed to calm down for a bit, and then the raids began. San Francisco was the first one, a major drug bust. It wasn't long before the FBI and law enforcement hit every Sons clubhouse in the country. Looking back, I could see how Dad and the other Werejaguar leaders left the humans to fight and die while they saved themselves.

The American Chapter Presidents all died soon enough, decapitated, their heads hung like Christmas ornaments on the border fence. The rest of the Werejaguars got taken out in Mexico. It didn't make sense that the Cartel, Law Enforcement, and the Mexican Military would simultaneously turn on the Sons and devour them whole.

I was playing with Maritza in the living room when there was a 'Breaking News' alert. "We take you now to Arrowhead Lake in northern Minnesota, where a hostage situation has developed. Lance, what can you tell us?"

The camera shifted to a young reporter standing on a road looking over a still-frozen lake and what looked like a fancy resort. "Heather, sources report that FBI Most Want fugitive Jack Coffey evaded police in Hermantown earlier today. He has taken hostage the wife of a County Sheriff and is headed here to Arrowhead Lake. Law enforcement vehicles are escorting him here, unable to move in because he has a shotgun taped to the woman's neck."

"Oh, my," Heather said. "Do we know yet what his demands are?"

"We do not, but I expect we'll hear soon. I can hear the sirens approaching. Our crew will use their cameras and our parabolic microphones to bring events to you as they happen."

The car arrived with his hostage, taking the frightened wife out. He issued a demand for all people at the Arrowhead Resort, led by Chase and Rori Nygaard, to come out to the road immediately. I'd tried to learn more about Chase and his redheaded wife after seeing them at the funeral, but there was little real information out there on them. I couldn't even find a picture of Rori older than a year.

The pair led a group of four or five dozen people out of the buildings. They faced the madman and his hostage, who was on her knees in front of him. "We're here, Coffey," Rori told him. "Let her go."

"Not yet. Show the world what monsters you truly are, and then I'll release the woman."

"How do I know that will happen? You're just going to give up?"

"If you haven't done it in the next sixty seconds, you'll be wearing her brains. She's innocent, unlike you. Make your choice quickly, Rori. You have fifty seconds."

"Some of my people are pregnant! They can't shift," Chase said. "You KNOW that!"

"ALL of you or she dies. Forty seconds."

The couple looked at each other and made a decision. Rori turned around and kicked her shoes off. "ARROWHEAD! STRIP AND SHIFT!"

Fifty people pulled their clothes off and shifted into their wolves as everyone else watched in shock and horror.

Fuck. Chase and Rori were WEREWOLVES.

And werewolves hate werecats.

Ch. 6

CIA Senior Agent Al Perkin's POV
Sons of Tezcatlipoca Task Force
Los Angeles, California, USA

On the long wall of the Task Force room was a diagram of everyone associated with the Sons of Tezcatlipoca. National leadership, including Chapter Presidents in the United States and Mexico, all had their photographs printed on legal-sized paper with their name and position across the bottom. Underneath them were letter-sized photographs showing Chapter officers, while below them were five-by-seven photos of Club members. Spouses, children, and girlfriends all got wallet-sized shots, each attached to the member's photo. We used Sharpies to put black X's over those confirmed dead, red X's traced over those presumed dead, while those in jail had green X's over them. The display covered fifty feet of wall, and the number of X's reflected months of work by our Task Force to wipe this violent biker gang out of existence.

Four months after the gang killed former DEA agent Sean Ryder and his wife and the wall was a sea of black, red, and green. It was the people who were still at large or unconfirmed that bugged me.

Jose Correirra, the young President of the new Sons chapter in New Orleans and the man behind the attack on the Steel Brotherhood's Orlando clubhouse, had a red X over his face. We'd found his blood and Harleigh Ryder's clothing in an abandoned boat on a remote Florida lake filled with alligators. The locals searched for their bodies without success. Jose was the highest-ranking member of the Sons of Tezcatlipoca that might still be out there. I had my suspicions that the Steel Brotherhood knew where the body was, but they weren't sharing.

Three people disappeared shortly after the raid on the Orlando clubhouse. Consuela Correirra didn't travel with her husband Manilo to Florida. She was assumed to be with Jorge and Eva Correirra, who vanished at the same time. We'd been monitoring all of their accounts, but even Echelon didn't get a whiff. They were either dead or good at hiding.

We had accounted for all Club Officers, and their immediate families, except one. Maria Meztli, the 17-year-old daughter of deceased Denver President Pedro Meztli, disappeared after her father's decapitated head was found on the border fence near San Diego. It wasn't surprising that he'd hide his family, as the Club was in bed with the Sinaloa Cartel. The Cartel was fuming over the attacks on the bikers and the loss of their drug shipment.

But then came the meeting of Sons leadership in Mexico and the drone strike. Mexican authorities found Pedro's wife under the rubble but not Maria. Her packed bags were in a vehicle parked outside, and DNA confirmed it was her. There was no trace of her body.

I was looking at her photo when Frank Donovan, the leader of the Fugitive section of our task force, came up next to me. "Still no sign of her," he said.

I tapped the photo. "Maria is out there. Maybe her Mom left her in town, maybe she got away, but she's alive."

Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Who cares? She wasn't in the Club, and she's a kid. If she escaped all this crap, good for her."

I shook my head, no. "The Sons are all about relationships. Have you ever seen a biker gang with a leadership structure like that?"

"It's pretty standard stuff for a biker gang."

"Bikers either elect or fight for their positions, Frank. In what universe does a single extended family hold the Presidency and at least one senior position in EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER?" I walked him down the line. "It's like a Mafia family. Everyone is a brother, cousin, or second cousin. It's also so inbred I expect to hear some kid on a porch playing Dueling Banjos." He pointed at a few of the wives. "They're all second cousins or third cousins of each other. Not a single Chapter President married someone outside the family."

"That is weird." He walked with me while I proved what I was saying.

"What if we're wrong about the Club?" Frank looked at me funny. "We're all assuming that the wives and daughters have nothing to do with the Club, so they aren't priority targets. After all, no outlaw biker gang would allow women to know what is going on."

"Pretty much," Frank agreed.

"The Steel Brotherhood isn't like that. Rori's got serious pull with that club, more than Chase has. Their 'Ladies Auxiliary' does more than organize parties. Pedro Meztli didn't have a son, and based on what we've seen, his daughter would marry a leader of one of the other Chapters. Maybe women like her and Consuela aren't so innocent. Could they be the ones who have been draining the accounts, hiding the members, and paying for the lawyers? Was Maria stashed down there as part of some emergency plan?"

Frank looked at the wall. "It's a reach. She's in high school, Al. Consuela, I'd buy her knowing more. She was married to Manilo for decades and disappeared with two other leaders."

"You're probably right."

"Still, our group is running out of leads on the remaining fugitives. Maybe we need to spend some time watching the wives and families and see if anyone turns up?"

I liked that. "Use the money trail to get warrants. Maybe we can find payments that aren't easy for them to explain. Meanwhile, I'm going to have my associates in Mexico head back to El Pozo. After the drone strike, everyone was looking for men who might have escaped. I want to find out if anyone saw Maria."

I went back to my desk and logged on to the encrypted CIA server, requesting help from agents in Mexico, then typing in my daily update to CIA brass. I looked up when someone started shouting to turn the television up.

The entire office watched spellbound as the hostage situation at the Arrowhead Pack played out. Our team still smarted from the orders directing us to immediately stop our investigations into Chase, Rori, and their friends. There was plenty of smoke, and with a little more time, we would have nailed them to the wall. They made friends with the brass and got their get-out-of-jail-free card.

"What a nightmare," Frank said as he watched. "A man wanted for murder tapes a sawed-off shotgun to the neck of the Sheriff's wife? I'd hate to be on that SWAT team."

I couldn't believe it when the Arrowhead residents, maybe four dozen of them, suddenly pulled their clothes off. Our jaws dropped as they all changed in seconds from naked humans to furry beasts. An entire pack of wolves, WEREWOLVES, now stood among the discarded clothing.

My entire worldview changed with them.

We'd been barking up the wrong tree.

It wasn't about bikers. It was about Packs! Arrowhead was a werewolf Pack, and there must be more.

Our boss, FBI Commander Irene Lindstrom, whistled to get our attention. "You've got twenty minutes to figure out how this information fits into our investigation while I call Headquarters. Be ready to talk." She went into her office and closed the door.

I composed a quick message to my bosses asking for any new direction based on the information. When I sent it, I went to talk to our Customs/Border Patrol representative. "Sofia," I said as I got to her cubicle.

"Hang on," Special Operations Supervisor Sofia Sanchez said as she finished typing. A high-energy spitfire of a Latina, she was one of my favorite coworkers. She looked up. "What's going on?"

"The border east of Nogales, where we found the vehicles belonging to eight of the sixteen dead Chapter Presidents."

She nodded. "I went through all the border surveillance recordings from when their heads got hung on the fence back to when we know the Presidents were in their Clubhouses. I didn't see anyone jumping the fence into Mexico, Al. There's no reason to park in that area unless you're jumping the fence east of town. It would have been much simpler to park in town and cross over there, but facial recognition at the border crossing didn't come up with any matches. My conclusion was that they crossed into Mexico using an aircraft, likely a helicopter."

"You were looking for people, Sofia. What about wildlife? What if the Sons are werewolves, just like Chase and Rori are?"

"Shit. There was something. Give me some time to find my notes and pull up the feed."

My phone dinged, telling me I had an incoming high-priority message. I went back to my desk, logging in on my CIA-issue laptop. Sure enough, I had an ULTRA-clearance, EYES ONLY message straight from the CIA Director, Peter Sinclair. He'd included the Mexico City station head and Director of the Central American Desk. "AGENTS ARE TO IDENTIFY, CAPTURE, AND EXTRACT TO GUANTANAMO BAY ANY SURVIVING LEADERS OF THE SONS OF TEZCATLIPOCA MOTORCYCLE CLUB OR DIRECT FAMILY IN THE UNITED STATES, MEXICO, OR CENTRAL AMERICA. SUPPORT OF THIS MISSION HAS THE HIGHEST OPERATIONAL PRIORITY. I AUTHORIZE USE OF ANY/ ALL CIA ASSETS IN SUPPORT. CIA ACTIVITIES INSIDE THE UNITED STATES ARE SPECIFICALLY AUTHORIZED. USE DISCRETION AND ENSURE DOMESTIC ACTIVITIES DO NOT BECOME PUBLIC. THIS IS CIA-ONLY OPERATION, DO NOT INVOLVE OR SHARE ANY INFORMATION ON THIS OPERATION OR OBJECTIVES WITH OTHER AGENCIES. USE BEST JUDGMENT AND GOOD LUCK. -PETER."