Page 132 of False Flag

All at once, a laugh overtook her. She tilted her head back and held on to his shoulders as her body shook with it. He joined her, laughing just as fully. The sound filled the small chamber.

It was ridiculous and wonderful, being with him like this.

Finally, she caught her breath and said, “So tell me, how the hell did you end up in here and why?”

Chapter Forty-Six

“Do we know if Staci is safe?” Morgan asked. “Gerard Campbell is going to be livid when he finds out what she did.”

Vicki knew Morgan respected Staci as much as the rest of them, but her boss always defaulted to worry when it came to her friend. Staci was very much the little sister Morgan never had, and Vicki suspected Morgan blamed herself for getting Staci wrapped up in the political aspects of archaeology.

Morgan had been early in her third trimester of pregnancy when Staci was hospitalized with MRSA, and everyone—including Staci—had to bar the woman from visiting her in the hospital.

Morgan’s concern came from love, but Vicki wasn’t the only one who wished Morgan would give Staci more credit.

“We have to trust that she has a plan for dealing with Campbell and Osborne,” Freya said. “But for now, she’s safe from Osborne. He left the island by helicopter this morning.”

“Is it possible to give Jake the heads-up that Staci could be in danger? Or at least, more danger than usual?” Morgan asked. “And tell him about the biotoxin?”

Brie Stewart Ford, one of the three founders of FMV, shook her head. “As long as the signal jammers are functional, we can’t reach him. The plan is for him to swim out under cover of darkness tonight. Then we’ll be able to update him with the latest developments.”

“Do we know where Osborne went?” Vicki asked. They should all be more concerned with Osborne’s movements now that they knew what he had in his arsenal. She had absolute faith that Staci knew how to protect herself.

Commander Gleeson answered. “The helicopter landed on Whidbey Island, Washington, a few hours ago.”

Beside Vicki, Teague frowned and leaned toward the desktop computer, where each group sat in their own box like the Brady Bunch. “Whidbey? Is he going there for the event?”

“Possibly,” Freya said. “But he has an estate on Whidbey near Deception Pass, so it’s hard to say.”

“But the signing, it could be there. At Deception Pass,” Teague said.

Brie’s husband, tribal chairman Bastian Ford, responded. “Several locations have been suggested for the signing of the legislation, and several state parks in the Deception Pass area are the most likely—it’s easy to get to from British Columbia and doesn’t require a ferry. The governor of Washington wants the location to be accessible for media and supporters, but he’s keeping advance information quiet about the exact location to avoid a large gathering of protestors.”

“You mean Archaeological Truthers who object to reparations,” Morgan said.

Bastian nodded. “Exactly. And a bunch of others who object to returning lands to the tribes.”

“Isn’t Deception Pass near the reservation where Lieutenant Burns grew up?” Teague asked.

“Yes,” Bastian confirmed. “He lived on Similk Bay, which is right by the pass.”

Teague sat up straighter. “Commander Gleeson, given that the signing event is likely to take place in three days, we could get a Fire Team unofficially in place under the pretense of attending a memorial ceremony for former Navy Petty Officer Lloyd Burns hosted by his brother, Lieutenant Jacob Burns, in his hometown. All we would need is for you to grant four or five of us leave.”

“I like that idea,” Morgan said.

Freya nodded her agreement.

Randall Fallon, who sat next to Commander Gleeson, also nodded approval, but Gleeson was the senior of the two commanders.

At last, Gleeson said, “Yes. Nothing official. We remain on US soil, and no one is under travel orders. There’s a Naval Air Station right there to provide support if needed. I think we can come up with a pretext for a direct flight to NAS Whidbey to save time.” He turned to Fallon. “Who do you propose?”

“Solis, Kramer, Meyers, and Flyte.”

Teague cleared his throat. “Sir, Lieutenant Flyte is getting married in four days. Send me instead.”

“You’re in DC,” Rand said. “The team will fly out of NAS Oceana.”

“I’ll catch a commercial flight tonight from Dulles. My own dime. I’ll meet the team at Whidbey no later than noon tomorrow.”