Aztec Treasure
Deep State

Colletta Grimes’ POV

Rose Garden, White House

I stood about twenty feet from Madam President, one of the honored guests but not her Cabinet or Congressional VIPs. The President of the Senate and the House Speaker were at the lectern, addressing the nation and the world before the six PM news. The Speaker of the House was talking. “Exactly four days ago, President Laura Kettering, under Section Four of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment to the Constitution, notified our offices that her temporary inability to perform the duties of her office no longer existed. As the Vice President and the Cabinet have not challenged this declaration in the allotted four days, Congress accepts her declaration as final.”

The Senate President took over the microphone. “Welcome back, President Laura Kettering!” The crowd erupted in applause; the shock over the murder of her husband and Air Force One transcended party politics. Polls gave her an approval rating near eighty percent.

President Kettering waved to the crowd and shook the hands of the Congressional leadership before finally taking the microphone. “I would first like to thank Vice President Cartwright and his staff for stepping up when I needed them the most. You have been a true friend and patriot in our time of need.” She paused until the applause died down. “The past weeks have been traumatic for me and the country as a whole. Neither of us will ever be the same, nor should we be. The White House will be a bleaker, lonelier place without my husband. I thank you all for your support, your encouragement, and your words of sympathy in my time of grief.” She wiped away a tear as the cameras clicked away. “Life is fragile; it can change in a moment, yet we must go on. I took an oath to execute the Office of President and preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. I now accept the duties of the Presidency, effective immediately.”

She stepped back and waved as the crowd cheered, then turned to greet the assembled dignitaries. I watched from a distance, observing the hyper-vigilant Secret Service agents doing their work. One of the working dogs in their service was a werewolf from the Adirondack Pack, and she was circling the perimeter with her werewolf handler. The crowd moved inside, but I remained as the press packed up and left. A few reporters tried to get a statement, but this event wasn’t about me or my kind.

I’d spoken a few hours earlier at a ceremony honoring the teen girl whose tip led authorities to Julio Salazar. She’s chosen the check rather than five bags of cash, which was a disappointment to the press. I’d kept calm as hostile reporters challenged if werewolves and werecats were inherently violent or criminal. We still had a long way to go to gain general acceptance. It reminded me how critical it was for us to keep the President’s support.

The car had just picked Frank up from the FBI building, and we talked over the link as I waited for him near the White House gates with two off-duty werewolf Secret Service trainees. I gave him my observations from the day while he updated me on the status of the investigation. When he told me his suspicions, I had to agree, as much as it frightened me. “What are we going to do?”

“It depends on how far the President is willing to go, plus how much cooperation we can get from our people. We are asking a lot of them, and we would be putting them in grave danger. These people kill like some people curse.”

“Reflexively and without thinking.” They had resources and reach far beyond the biker gang we’d been dealing with thus far. In that, the authority and scope of the US Government had been in our favor.

“Yes. This conspiracy is so much bigger than the Sons. As good as Spider Monkey and her team is, this is a whole other level. The smart play is to walk away.”

“What about Maria? If we stop, is she still in danger?”

Frank didn’t answer for a bit. “We won’t know for sure. The primaries involved with the black site are dead, but who knows how deep that project went? If they still want to train and breed werecat agents, Maria and Maritza are the only remaining targets in the world. It would be safest to stay defensive and let the FBI and Secret Service do the heavy lifting.”

“Unless the FBI and Secret Service are compromised.” His limousine stopped at the entrance, and we joined him in the back. Since he had the scrambled cellphone, we took a minute to call Arrowhead while we were in traffic. “Hi, Chase,” I said when my son picked up.

“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.