Page 55 of False Flag

She enjoyed real historical research, a reminder that not everything about this job was terrible. As long as she was allowed to do the actual work she was hired to do, she could hold her head up high.

No doubt Gerard intended to cast doubt on tribal claims. His baseline theory was that the Pacific Northwest had been populated by a mysterious, unknown culture that settled here after their continent in the Pacific collapsed, and that lost civilization had laid a foundation that tribal invaders then destroyed.

Gerard might not say it explicitly, but his followers understood the lost civilization was white. The forums and comments on the podcast were full of such statements, and Gerard never objected to the assertion.

Atlanteans—from Plato’s parabolic society—were often synonymous with the inhabitants of Mu, and Gerard was all in on Mu and/or Atlantis, which, like many in pseudoarchaeology circles, he used interchangeably. But there were other leading voices in fake archaeology who considered Mu a separate entity.

For the Native Sons of British Columbia, the belief in Mu stemmed from their desire to show that an “intelligent civilization” predated First Nations in Canada, and that these white people resided in what is now British Columbia ten thousand years ago.

Lloyd’s job was to take the site data he’d collected from various databases—hacked by Osborne’s tech team, she assumed, because site location information was protected—and pinpoint where artifacts that could be connected to Mu had been recorded. He was also analyzing satellite data to find remnants of Mu in the Pacific or Salish Sea.

Over the last several days, Staci had spent many hours at Lloyd’s side going over his findings to make notes of the areas that would need to be ground-truthed.

As if there was any truth to be found.

It was readily clear that Lloyd was not remotely as brilliant at his self-taught profession as he claimed. Archaeologists who use satellite imagery to find buried pyramids and map ancient cities that lay beneath the modern built environment had a depth of training, knowledge, and understanding of landforms that Lloyd lacked. He started with an endpoint goal: find Mu here.

As if it could be willed into existence because this was where his prophet needed it to be.

This meant every fissure and fault line—and there were a lot in the Salish Sea—could be a remnant of the lost continent. If confirmation bias could be measured like waves in the ocean, Staci was battling a hundred-foot tsunami.

Several times over the last week, Staci felt overwhelmed by her isolation and the emotional toll of spending her time chasing down theories that, at their core, attempted to separate Indigenous people from their cultural history, while at the same time assigning their accomplishments to aliens or humans that were deemed more intelligent or worthy.

At those times, she’d taken breaks and wandered the property. Aimless walks in which she mentally mapped a place she wasn’t allowed to describe. She kept her eyes on all the buildings, looking for signs that Casper Osborne or Gerard Campbell had arrived or would arrive soon.

Her work was stalled until either man got here.

Why had Casper Osborne wanted her in particular? She knew now that everyone had known from the start she was a victim of a Truther attack. But still, Casper had made it clear he’d give Gerard five grand to secure her presence on Letora Island. A pittance to a billionaire, but the fact she’d been singled out was what bothered her.

She glanced at the Letora Island archaeological inventory to confirm the name of a First Nations Elder quoted in an endnote. Her search resulted in a 404 error. This was Osborne’s own damn report. Her frustration with being hampered in her research boiled over yet again, and she packed up her laptop. “I’m taking a break.”

Really, she was going to Orca House to kick techbro ass.

“Don’t be long,” Lloyd said. “We’re going diving soon—maybe even tomorrow—and I want to go over some potential locations for our first dive.”

“Tomorrow? But the boat’s not here. Nor is Gerard.”

“The boat’s supposed to arrive late tonight.”

“With Gerard?”

Lloyd shrugged.

She glanced at her watch. It was only one in the afternoon. “I’m grabbing lunch and getting some fresh air. Back in an hour.”

“I can go with you⁠—”

“No. I want to be alone.” She looked at the thumb drive still plugged into his computer. “Did you copy the files?”

He glanced down. “Shit. I forgot when I got the notice about the boat arriving. I need to lock the layers. It’ll take a while to export.”

It baffled her that he hadn’t bothered to mention the boat was arriving tonight the moment he’d learned. She’d been sitting right next to him.

He enjoyed the power he had in keeping her in the dark. He was her sole source of information about project developments, and he doled each tidbit out like they were gemstones.

She was so sick of the games and barriers.

She went to the kitchen and quickly made a sandwich. She rounded out her meal with yogurt, a veggie pack, and a bottle of water, then set out.