Page 113 of False Flag

It was lovely, with a 360-degree view. Vancouver Island in the not-so-far distance. Much farther away to the east was mainland British Columbia. The summit was wide and flat, and on the western edge was a seasonal lake with a stream that flowed down to the Strait of Georgia.

“Stop,” she said. “We should start filming here.”

“Boss?” Theo asked.

Gerard nodded. “Do it. She’s right.”

“Park as close to the trees to the east as you can,” Staci said. “To minimize the presence of vehicles in the shots.”

“We can move them and shoot from other angles,” Gerard agreed.

They were the lead car, and the others pulled to the side as well. Gerard informed the film crew that they’d begin filming here.

While Felix and his team set up their equipment, Staci explored the ridge and prepared her thoughts. Gerard joined her, and they discussed how they would proceed.

It was weird that she liked this Gerard. He was inquisitive, not bossy. He accepted the direction she provided. He didn’t try to explain the topography or history of the landform.

She was no expert in either, but she knew far more than he did, and it was refreshing that he simply accepted that. She was reminded of the charisma that had built his audience over the years.

They filmed three segments, taking advantage of the 360-degree view without the team, vehicles, or equipment in the shot. They focused their attention on the lake and the resources it would have provided to Indigenous people thousands of years ago.

It wasn’t surprising that there wasn’t evidence of a settlement or even a seasonal camp here. While the lake might exist year-round, by August, it would be quite small and the stream a trickle, if even that. There were fish in the lake, but it would never have supported salmon spawning, and the species were small. The resource could be quickly overfished.

Jake would have provided good commentary on the subject of sustainable fishing.

From there, they moved on to film in the forest not far from a stream, but there wasn’t much to see. Staci described what she would look for to determine if an area had high probability for being an archaeological site.

Exasperated, she turned to Gerard. “Viewers will find this boring. Letora Island has several archaeological sites. Real ones that can even answer research questions if they’re properly excavated.”

“What do you propose?”

“We should take a boat out. Film the north shore from the water. There’s a thick shell midden that’s easily seen from the water looking at the cut bank.”

Gerard’s brow furrowed. “We can hike in. No need for a boat.”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s high tide. There’s almost no beach. No way to see the bank profile and shell when you’re standing above it.”

“So we wait for low tide.”

She shook her head. “That’s hours away. It’ll be dark by then.”

Gerard chewed on his bottom lip, then finally nodded. “We’ll head to the marina and take a Zodiac.”

She felt a rush at his capitulation but reminded herself not to trust in success until she was out on the water.

It took a full hour for the crew to pack up and drive the rough so-called road back up and over the peak that was merely an impressive hill.

At the marina, another thirty minutes passed while security prepared the Zodiac for the short journey. At last, Staci and Gerard were aboard with the film crew, Beau at the helm of the inflatable vessel.

The weather had cooled as the day stretched into late afternoon, and Staci was glad she had her oversized windbreaker as they cleared the harbor and entered open water. She slipped her hands into the front pouch and felt for the burner phone she’d hidden in a smaller interior pocket. She stared out at the water as she hit Send for a text she’d composed hours ago in hopes of just this opportunity to leave the island.

She felt the vibration of an incoming message, and her heart surged, knowing she’d cleared the signal blockers and filters that cloaked the island.

Later, she’d read the message. Right now, she had to play her role. They reached the north tip of the island, and she pointed out the thick band of white shell in the cut bank.

“Why film here?” Gerard asked. “And not one of the midden sites in the harbor?”

Because this gives me the best chance of sending and receiving messages.