Page 114 of False Flag

“This is the perfect place to talk about the natural eroding of sites and those with structural integrity to survive centuries or even millennia of wave action and catastrophic events, including tsunamis.

“This site is visually more dramatic with those thick bands of shell and thin, dark layers that are probably charcoal. How cool is it that hundreds, even thousands of years ago, the island had a longer nose that reached out into the Salish Sea, and that dark band a meter below the top of the bank could be evidence of a fire pit? Imagine a group of people—they could be similar in age to each of us here—building a fire to smoke salmon or halibut that they’d harvested earlier in the day.”

“That’s great imagery,” Felix said, “but I need you to stand on the bow of the boat so I can film with the shore behind you. And lose the jacket. It’s too bulky.”

“I’ll freeze in this wind.”

“We’ll be quick, I promise.”

She wasn’t worried about being cold, but she didn’t want to give up the windbreaker with her phone. But the light jacket did, in fact, cover up the body Gerard was paying good money to film.

She removed it as Beau turned the boat around. The current would make it hard to maintain their position without anchoring, but the trolling motor would have to do. At least it was quiet and wouldn’t be heard above the sound of the waves hitting the hull and shore.

The rocking motion of the boat required multiple takes. First, Gerard wanted her to stand by the bow, then place one knee on it, until finally, she was practically straddling the pontoon gunwale as she described the archaeological site that was being hit by waves as the wind picked up.

Later, she would try to remember the exact sequence, trying to piece together how it happened. She wondered how Beau pulled it off, in the same way one could become obsessed with the need to know how a magician successfully executed a trick.

But it was no illusion when the nose of the boat suddenly rose as if a kraken were beneath. Then it slammed down, just as sharply, and Staci, loosely seated on the slippery inflated rim, popped up and over, tossed into the frigid sea.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

One minute in the Salish Sea was all it took for the cold to settle into Staci’s bones. Without the protection of a wetsuit, the water was so cold, it burned. She wanted to curl into a ball to protect her core, but she needed to swim. To get back in the boat.

How was it already five feet away and drifting farther?

She could see the flurry of activity as Gerard and Felix tried to reach for her. She could see mouths moving, but she didn’t hear the words. All she heard was the rush of water swirling around her. Or maybe it was blood rushing to the core her limbs wanted to protect.

Beau was at the helm. Was he using the trolling motor to move away from her?

Gerard was yelling something. At Beau? Or her?

The boat. She needed to get to the boat. She forced her body to unfurl. She’d swum in colder water. This was only jarring because it was unexpected.

She took a stroke toward the boat and fixed her gaze on Felix. “Y-you b-b-b-better be filming, be-be-cause I’m not re-p-p-peattting this st-stunt.”

Her teeth chattered along with her stuttered speech.

“No worries. I gotcha.”

Gerard and Felix’s assistant—a woman named Tanya—reached out for Staci as she neared the boat.

A small wave kept their hands out of reach.

“Bring the boat closer!” Gerard snapped at Beau.

All at once, the boat surged, hitting Staci in the head. She took in a gulp of icy saltwater as the rubber hull ran over her head. Her hand slid over the inflated pontoon, searching for something to grip to pull herself out from beneath the boat.

There was nothing to grab, and she had to twist around to swim out even as her limbs were going numb with the cold.

Don’t panic.

She was a damn good swimmer, and the boat was right above her. She kicked up, and her head brushed along the bottom until finally she surfaced.

She took a sputtering breath and held up her hands. Something—someone—gripped her wrist. All at once, she was being pulled from the water by Felix. She slid over the side and drenched him as he fell backward and she landed on top.

She coughed and shivered and curled into a ball again, seeing that Tanya now held the camera. It would be a dramatic scene for the documentary. Maybe the footage would explain why the boat had lurched and tossed her into the sea.

“Where are the damn towels?” Gerard shouted.