Page 91 of False Flag

“What does the research design say?” Brie asked. “How does Gerard plan to find his imaginary continent?”

“I’ve been asking him for a research design from the moment I arrived on the island. He’s sent a vague idea of a plan, but nothing of substance. I was surprised we scuba dived on Saturday with a documentary filmmaker because there was no research value whatsoever.”

“He wants the show, but he doesn’t want to do the work,” Jake said.

She nodded. “And he wanted you on camera.”

Jake assumed Brie Stewart Ford had been briefed by her FMV colleagues, but assumptions weren’t enough for him to speak of Grigory Laskin. He’d let Bastian or Xavier fill in the blanks for her. Jake suspected it was Laskin’s influence that triggered Gerard’s desire for a Navy SEAL to be on the expedition team. But why was another mystery.

Had Lloyd been nothing more than bait? A way to lure Jake? “Are his mapping files on the shared network in Geoduck House?”

Staci shook her head. “No, but…I have a thumb drive with his data and correspondence.”

He jolted. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Last week—an hour before I found you on Letora, actually—I asked him to copy several of his map files for me. The files are massive and take a while to copy. While it was plugged into his desktop computer, an FMV program hidden on my thumb drive also copied all his active and recent files. When you told me we’d be diving the next day, I went to the office I shared with Lloyd and retrieved the drive. I didn’t have the right software to open the maps, and I knew there was no way I’d have the time to upload the files to the cloud before the dive, so I hid the drive inside a sanitary napkin and left it under the sink in my bathroom.” She met Brie’s gaze. “I’m hoping that among the goodies Freya sent is the mapping software I requested?”

Brie grinned. “She sent a laptop with everything you need.” She rose to her feet. “On that note, we should commence with the tour of Rosalie and all her extra features—let’s just say it was a relief to get through customs without an intensive search.”

Rosalie was perfect in every way. But it wasn’t her fine lines or upper and lower helms that impressed Jake. No, it was her hidden panels that concealed a selection of weapons and spy gadgets.

Bastian closed the panel and replaced the supplies that concealed it, then dropped the floorboard and carpet back into place and stood. “There’s another compartment under the double bed in the forward stateroom with more weapons and tech, including burner phones and tablets. Same mechanism to release the floorboard.”

“Thank you,” Jake said.

“I hope you don’t need any of it.”

“Same.”

Staci looked worried. He knew she was marginally trained in firearms—not just paintball—but it was very different to wrap one’s brain around using live fire in a situation that was in no way a training or a game.

“One more thing you should know,” Bastian said. “Rosalie was named for my great-aunt, a tribal elder who passed away more than twenty years ago. Rosalie Warren is the reason the tribe now owns all the Thorpe Log and Lumber holdings in the town of Coho. Casper Osborne will have heard of her because his family has similar holdings that date back to the same time frame.” He flashed a grin. “I’m sure the story of white people making good on their promises to the tribes keeps him up at night.”

Staci cocked her head. “I read about that. The murder victim hidden in an archaeological site in hopes of the body being believed to be prehistoric? It’s legendary among dig bums.”

Bastian nodded. “That’s the one.”

“I’ll be certain to name-drop Rosalie Warren in front of Osborne the first chance I get.”

The former Green Beret grinned. “That would make Aunt Rosalie very, very happy.”

Chapter Thirty

Adrenaline surged through Jake as the boat cleared the harbor and he opened up the throttle. The engine roared in tune with his heart, and the pressure that held the organ in a tight grip released. They were seated on the flybridge, giving him a spectacular view of the sea as wind buffeted his face. He felt light enough to fly.

Beside him, Staci let out a throaty laugh. She was experiencing the same release he was. An untethering from everything that weighed them down on land.

He’d tuned in to the whale-watching boat chatter before leaving Victoria Harbour, and now he headed for the Race Rocks Ecological Reserve, where at least three orcas were feeding on a sea lion. Boats couldn’t enter the reserve when orcas were present, but they could watch from a distance.

Staci yelled to be heard over the roaring engine. “Shouldn’t we be heading the other way?”

They had a boat and a plan. He no longer felt the need to hurry. “We’ve got time.”

Several minutes later, Jake throttled down Rosalie’s engine. They were well outside the perimeter of the reserve, but the black-and-white lighthouse was in view. With the engine quieted, he gave Staci a rundown of the rules that protected the reserve and governed whale watching in general.

“You know this place well?”

He shrugged. “My dad brought us here a few times. Only been here once since, five, maybe six years ago? A high school friend was getting married, and four of us took a fishing trip together in the San Juans and came out this way one day.”