Claiming Treasure

Beta Teri Carlson’s POV

Calgary Airport

“I can’t believe you made me take you along,” I told Ron as I snuggled into his shoulder as we descended into Calgary.

“You’re mine, you’re pregnant, and you are not among friends. Three strikes against this trip. There’s no way I was going to let you head THERE without ME, and Rori understood when I told her,” he said with a low growl. He was whispering quietly enough that none of the humans around us in first class would be able to hear.

“It’s not that simple. Charles’ funeral will be soon, and Rori will need to leave for it. Vic won’t be back for a week or more. We’re leaving them short-handed.”

“I know. I told Rori and Chase that if something had to give, it was the Council. I would have been fine staying home.”

I just shook my head. “You know I can’t do that. The hack is bigger than me, bigger than all of us. I need to help, no matter what I might want to do.”

He kissed my forehead. “I know. We all do. Timur will have to step up, and so will others. Possum and Roadkill are back too. They will survive.”

I held on to his hand as we landed, and we retrieved our luggage and walked outside. I smelled the wolf before I saw him, waving at us from a Chevy Suburban parked at the curb. “Mr. and Mrs. Carlson,” he said with a wave as he ran forward. “Welcome to Canada.”

“Thank you,” I said as he grabbed my suitcase. He and Ron put the luggage in the back while I slid into the back. “We can’t trust anyone here, so we’ll use the link as much as possible,” I said.

“I agree. Vague and friendly is the word.” The driver and the Omega with him tried to start a conversation, but I pretended to be tired. Instead, we talked about how we were going to handle the Alphas until I did fall asleep.

“We’re here,” Ron said as he gently shook me. I looked out at the Pack House; it looked like a resort hotel set in the trees and mountains.

The driver stopped under the covered entrance, and a nervous-looking young man with glasses opened the door. “Welcome to Banff Pack, I am Beta Brian Steele. I thank you for coming to help me with this.”

He shook my hand first, then Ron’s, as we introduced ourselves. “You’re in charge of computer systems here?”

“Yes. Your bags will be in your room, but I need you to meet the team tonight,” Brian said.

“We should check in with your Alpha first,” Ron said.

“He is with the Council at the Blue River Pack. With our systems down, the Council temporarily relocated to the closest Pack.” He opened the door to the basement. “They pass along their appreciation for your assistance.”

I mentally cringed; Coral must be pulling her hair out, and Keith would be on edge with her pregnant and unable to shift. It was another reason to get the job done and get the hell out of here. “How bad is it?”

“We’re still piecing it together,” he said. “We know the hack is less than a week old, as the backup drives we removed earlier is clean. The Pack and Council servers are being restored using these drives, and we have not restored internet connectivity yet.”

“What do you mean piecing it together,” I said.

“The worm was rather effective,” he said. “It corrupted the hard drives, overwriting sectors as it went. Luckily, there were two servers and a backup server, and I was able to power down the systems before the worm could finish its work.” He reached a door and punched in a code, then opened it and let us in.

The server room was pretty standard, rows of cabinets with the computer components, and three work stations. There were three other people inside. “Betas Ron and Teri Carlson of Arrowhead Pack, may I introduce the rest of my team. Joe Walker, IT specialist at Monongahela Pack; Lisa Funk, IT specialist for the Werewolf Council, and Patrick Burkette, system manager at the Katahdin Pack.”

They had lots of coffee and snacks on a table in the corner, and it looked like none of them had left recently except to go to the bathroom. “The kitchen will deliver whatever you need down here to eat,” Brian said. “We have roughly split up the duties. I am reconstituting the servers so we can get back online; it’s slow because I’m trying to recover as much as possible without reinfecting the system. Joe is focusing on how the hacker got through our security and into our systems. Lisa is working on damage control, looking to see what the hacker downloaded and what he didn’t. Patrick is working on recovering the files on the damaged disk drives.”

“What do you need from me?”

“You are the one with experience in the hacking world. We’ve managed to recover parts of the programs used, including the worm. I need you to fill in the gaps and see if you can identify the people behind it.”

I pulled my laptop out and set up at a desk they had for me. “I’ll be fine, honey,” I told a worried Ron. I’d learned long ago that he was incapable of understanding my computer job, and I no longer tried. “Go get dinner and bring me back something I like.”

“I’ll be back. Have I lost you for the night?”

I nodded. “You know how it is with computer geeks. I’ll be down here until I can’t function, then I’ll come up and snooze for a few hours. I’m glad I slept on the plane.” He stepped out, and Patrick showed me what they had so far.

Heather Rhodes’ POV

Cascade Pack House

“Thank you for dinner,” I said as I excused myself from the head table in the Pack dining room.

“Have fun at training,” Alpha Carson said.

I smiled before I followed Beta Carl out of the room. I’d settled into a routine while my ribs healed up; I’d use the exercise bike in the morning before knife training, spend the afternoon with a pack member shadowing their job, then after dinner, it was time for firearms training. I loved using the Firearms Training System and had become quite proficient at busting plates. I wasn’t up to Beta Angelina’s level yet, but I wasn’t embarrassed by her anymore.

We went down to the training area, but instead of going into the training room, we went into the armory. “What’s going on?”

“Now that you have proficiency in using the firearm, we are going to start training on the practical aspects. I expect you to carry a firearm on you any time you are out of your room,” he said.

“Is that necessary?”

Carl shook his head. “Probably not, but I’ve talked to you about habits. Carrying a pistol and at least one knife needs to be a habit, just another part of getting dressed. If it isn’t a habit, you might not do it. You NOT have it when you need it.”

“How am I going to carry? I’m going to be as big as a house soon.” My belly wasn’t much now, but wearing a heavy gun belt and holster wasn’t going to last long.

“That’s why we’re here.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a few holsters, then a blue plastic training pistol. “While you can carry with a belt, it would be good to do so. We don’t have to worry about you hiding it from the Pack, so we’ll use an outside-the-belt holster.” He helped me replace the belt on my jeans with a more substantial one, then threaded on the holster. “Police carry on the hip for good reasons; it allows you to sit normally and is fast to draw. Give it a try.” I went through the motions he showed me at half speed, then went faster until it felt jerky. “Not bad. Some people prefer appendix carry, here in front to the left of your buckle, mainly if they sit down a lot or are driving. I don’t like drawing across my body, so I don’t do this. The small of the back holster gives good concealment, but is uncomfortable when sitting or driving.”

I tried the two and had to agree. “Hip, for sure,” I said.

He set me up with a holster and belt for the Glock I was used to firing, then set it aside. “As you get farther along in pregnancy, the belt won’t work. Ankle carry doesn’t help because it’s difficult to bend down. There are two options then, shoulder holsters and bang bras.”

“Bang what?”

“Here.” He handed me a small holster that looked like a C-clip. Taking out a different plastic pistol, this one being a single-stack 9mm Glock 43 compact, he put it into the holster. It covered the trigger and barrel but was open on the bottom, and the grip was showing. “Want to try?”

“How does this go?”

“You need a sturdy bra. Clip this over the strap in front, so it hangs just below.” I was glad I was wearing a loose T-shirt; I turned away and clipped it in place. It felt weird as it hung there, but wasn’t uncomfortable. I turned back around; looking in the mirror, you couldn’t even see it. “To use this, you reach up, grab it by the grip, and give it a sharp pull down.”

I did what he said; it popped free. “Nice,” I said.

“Not good for anything more than a compact pistol, though. I prefer you wear a full-sized shoulder holster.” He took the rig out and put it on; the pistol was under my left arm, grip forward, while the other side could hold two spare magazines. The draw wasn’t much slower than the hip holster, and the weight was evenly distributed across my back and shoulders. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” I said. “I like them both.”

“That one is yours now that we’ve adjusted it. I’ll get you a compact pistol and bra holster; you can use it as a backup. When we leave tonight, we start. If I catch you out of your room without a pistol, you’re not going to enjoy the punishment when we do our morning runs,” Carl said.

“I don’t enjoy the runs NOW,” I teased him.

“All right. Leave the plastic gun here, and we’ll go to the trainer.” Going in, I was handed the laser Glock replica and holstered it. For the next two hours, we practiced drawing and firing, using videotaped shoot/no-shoot scenarios based on police training. It was fun but nerve-wracking. The scenarios he put me through drove home just how quickly a situation could degrade, and how little time you had to make decisions.

I was tired when he finally shut the trainer down. “Nice job,” Carl told me as he took the training pistol from me. “Now, we go to the armory.”

We walked to another part of the basement, near the security center. “Holy shit,” I said as I followed Carl into the room.

“Redneck heaven,” he said as he walked past the shelves filled with pistols and the wall racks of rifles. Over the next hour, he showed me how to operate and clean the Glock 19 and the Glock 43. When I had them ready, he handed me the magazines and a pair of latex gloves. “Silver-core bullets aren’t something we mess with,” he said. “It won’t harm you, but it won’t be pleasant if you have residue on your fingers and touch someone. Use gloves and wash your hands after you load the magazines.”

I filled three 19-round magazines and one six-round magazine. I took out two more rounds; inserting the magazines, I racked a round in, ejected and topped off the magazine, then put the full magazine back in. The tiny Glock didn’t bother me at all in the bra holster. “Nice,” I said as I peeled the gloves off.

“Wipe the grips with a baby wipe, then wash your hands,” he said. “The silver ammunition won’t kill a werewolf unless you hit a vital area, but it will cause the wound to bleed, and it burns like fire. I wish we could do some live fire, but Doc says no.”

“If I have to fire these while I’m pregnant, I’ll apologize to my babies for the noise later.” I impulsively hugged him. “Thank you, Beta Carl. I’ve learned a lot from you.”

“You’re welcome, Luna.” He got a glazed look that meant someone was mentally sending to him. “I have to go. Have a good night; Angelina will be outside your door at six for your run.”

I groaned. “Don’t you people sleep?”

“Don’t forget a weapon,” he said as he left me at the staircase.

I looked at the clock, and it was past ten already. I better get some sleep.