Page 88 of False Flag

Staci gave him a hopeful look. “That them?”

He nodded and pointed to a flybridge yacht that was just entering the public harbor. “They’re here.”

She rose from the bench where she’d been sitting while Jake paced. She hurried down the steps to the docks.

Jake followed, watching her, centering himself. He was here for her. No matter what he’d said at the start. No matter what reasons the Navy had for asking him to infiltrate the expedition, the truth was, he’d always been here for her. The minute he knew she was in danger, he was in.

Beau Sommerville had assaulted her a moment before their reunion. His brother had been killed the next day. Still, Anastacia Allen wasn’t afraid to go back. She hadn’t wavered in her mission.

As a SEAL, Jake knew the value of fear. It was healthy. Necessary. But it didn’t stop him from completing the mission. No. Fear just made them smart. The fear he felt now was unlike anything he’d felt on past missions. But then, this wasn’t an op with clear objectives. Targets to be taken out. Hostages to be rescued.

Jake knew weapons and tactics. He knew battle. He knew how to infiltrate a stronghold and rescue. He knew how and when to kill. But he didn’t know archaeology, disinformation, social media influencers, or billionaires intent on controlling data and information.

He didn’t even know what happened to his brother, just that something had triggered anaphylaxis, resulting in nearly instant death. The time for grief was over. He needed to get back inside the compound and figure out what Campbell and Osborne were plotting.

Staci was Jake’s guide in this. She was the one with the necessary skills. He needed to follow her, as he was now, because this was an op unlike anything he’d ever attempted. She was the Valkyrie, leading him not to Valhalla, but into the heart of something he couldn’t begin to understand.

He was only a few feet behind her on the dock when the door to the interior cabin opened and a woman stepped out. Staci let out a screech.

He lunged forward, ready to protect and defend, when her laugh and that of the other woman registered. The woman jumped to the dock as the boat touched the buoy. She held her arms wide.

Staci threw herself into those wide arms. “Brie! Oh my god! I had no idea you’d be here.”

The woman—Brie—let out her own squeal as she squeezed Staci tight. “I wasn’t supposed to come, but I insisted. I figured you need to see a friend about now.”

Staci released her and swiped at her cheeks. Jake’s heart clenched as he saw her laughter had turned to tears. She caught Brie’s hand. “I needed this more than you can know. Thank you.”

“I, uh, take it you two know each other?” Jake said.

More tears poured down Staci’s face, and she swiped at them with an open palm. “Lieutenant Jake Burns, this is Brie Stewart, a founding member of Friday Morning Valkyries. She works remotely because she lives in Washington with her husband.” She nodded to a man who was securing the bow line to a cleat on the dock. “Kalahwamish Tribal Chairman Bastian Ford.”

The man smiled as he rose and offered Jake his hand. “Lieutenant Burns, good to meet you.”

Jake took his hand. “Call me Jake. I should have realized you’d both know Staci.”

“We were all in Morgan and Pax’s wedding party,” Brie said as she draped an arm around Staci. “Staci was maid of honor.”

Another man jumped onto the dock. “Lieutenant Burns, good to finally meet you.”

Jake shook Xavier Rivera’s hand. “Jake, please. This is Staci Allen.” More handshaking followed, then he said. “I can’t thank you all enough for bringing us a boat.”

“We’re all deeply sorry for your loss,” Bastian said.

Xavier nodded to the vessel they’d arrived in. “Let’s go inside.”

The flybridge was less than forty feet and looked like it was built in the early 2000s. She was a beauty. Jake was pleased to see that, in addition to the upper outside cockpit, she had a second, interior helm. Perfect for the choppy conditions of the Salish Sea.

The interior was efficient, the salon a simple U-shaped seating area with a table on the port side. Two steps down from the salon, also to port, was the galley. The interior helm was starboard, next to the galley.

Once they were all gathered inside, Xavier secured the door, and Bastian flipped a switch on a black metal box that sat on the shelf behind the seating area. The LED light on the device turned from red to green.

“When the light is green, the signal jammer is engaged. It blocks all signals, radio, satellite, and cellular. Drones flying within five meters will lose radio communication if they hover too long. This vessel has a high-quality, highly secure satellite link for accessing the internet. When the jammer is engaged, you’ll need to be hardwired into the satellite system to send and receive data.” Bastian pointed to a LAN cable. “If your laptop doesn’t have a LAN port, we’ve got adapters.”

“This is a tribal vessel?” Jake asked.

“The boat and hardwired tech are,” Bastian said. “Enhancements like the signal blocker are part of the package FMV had shipped. We’ve also got some nano drones courtesy of your Raptor friends.”

“It really is a shame you couldn’t make it to the paintball war,” Staci said. “You’d have enjoyed meeting the Raptor gang.”