EXFIL

by Anthony C. Patton

  “I look forward to it,” he said and returned inside.

  Boom.

  And with that, the dance had just begun.

  My only hope now was that my mystery competitor didn’t get a second date as well.

  If Li had held absolutely no inclination to provide secrets to America when the evening began, he now at least knew I was someone he could trust: scheduling a meeting without resorting to electronic devices and with no one to see us talking.

  Ten years ago in Islamabad, he had opted not to meet me outside of official diplomatic events, but now he was on my turf and had plenty of time to think about it.

  I resisted a wide smile and exited the hotel with a bounce in my step. To celebrate my success, I lit a cigar and puffed the coal to an orange brilliance. My inner Intelligence Officer urged me to return to the event to meet other potential sources, but I decided to call it a night.

  “Colonel Reed.”

  I turned to see Anna walking toward me. I puffed my cigar, flicked the ash, and turned my head to exhale, mentally preparing to play the gentleman. Each click of her heels triggered images in my mind that I knew I should resist.

  “I know you’re busy, but I was wondering if it would be possible to get your ideas on careers in cybersecurity,” she said. Her groomed eyebrows and the glow of her face under the moonlight suggested a recent visit to the spa, indicative of old money, not someone who worked computer issues hidden away in the belly of the Pentagon.

  I puffed on the cigar and nodded before exhaling, noting for my own edification that she was requesting the meeting. “Evenings are best,” I said, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

  She removed a business card from her red clutch and handed it to me.

  “I’m available any evening this week.”

  I glanced at the business card and flipped it around to see her phone number in purple ink.

  SEVEN

  One advantage of serving in the military or the government was that you could focus on your professional craft and the moral content of your work without becoming a slave to quarterly profits or the whims of retail consumers.

  In general, no matter what had happened the previous year with GDP growth or tax revenue, Congress would approve the federal budget with a bump and we would continue to get paid, with a generous retirement package at the end of the road, which had positive and negative consequences for the workforce. The Pareto Principle or 80-20 rule applies: 20 percent of the workers do 80 percent of the work.

  For ambitious and talented professionals, the 20 percent, government service offered promotions and good assignments, but the bureaucracy was inefficient by design, and significant wealth accumulation wasn’t possible. On the other hand, for lazy or mediocre people who were content to punch a clock and avoid the rigors of competition, the 80 percent, a government job was ideal because it was nearly impossible to get fired.

  Legions of “tiger teams” had spent inordinate hours discussing ways to improve the system—incentives to keep the good people on board while finding a legal basis to fire the bad people—but most government institutions had to rely on internal promotions to fill the upper ranks. If the Army fired a colonel, it couldn’t run an ad to replace him; it had to promote a lieutenant colonel from within and keep people clawing their way up the pyramid.

  Thus, with rare exceptions, every general had once been a second lieutenant.

  The private sector had certain advantages over the public sector, such as a clear mechanism to measure performance (cash flow) and the ability to hire outsiders at all levels. However, because profits and shareholders were the name of the game, people often found themselves peddling their souls to market stuff we don’t need, such as sugar water, fast food, or lewd entertainment that appealed to people’s baser impulses.

  The pursuit of profits for the sake of profits rarely lined up with our higher callings in life.

  While moving up the ranks in the Army, it never occurred to me that defense companies were also profiting by selling to us—uniforms, weapons, ammunition, vehicles, aircraft, fuel, computers, radios, you name it. In fact, many of these companies were traded on the New York Stock Exchange and wrote annual reports to advise their shareholders how they planned to increase profits the next year, which was difficult during peacetime.

  During my early exposure to this racket, I insisted on transparency to ensure that companies weren’t taking advantage of our American taxpayers. However, as I rose further up the ranks, I realized that what I thought was big money was merely a rounding error. In many cases, billions of dollars were at stake, with senators and congressmen using their pull in various committees to fund pet projects in their home states or districts to win votes or campaign contributions. Reasonable attempts were made to spread the wealth, which made sense on a political level, but this lack of rational planning meant billions of dollars were wasted every year in the name of compromise.

  As I got settled at Cyber Command, I learned that they too had ambitious plans to respond to the growing cyber threat. But it was clear that no one had a complete grasp of how to manage the money or the growth. Salivating contractors were hawking their products or services, and contracting officers were signing on the bottom line to spend the money as quickly as possible, to avoid receiving a smaller budget the next fiscal year.

  As I reviewed the contracts, one company had its fingerprints on everything: JB Defense Solutions. Everyone spoke positively about the company, claiming that they set the gold standard for defense contractors, but my curiosity was piqued when I sat at my desk and saw an invitation addressed to me for a river cruise event, hand typed on embossed linen stationary and signed with wet blue ink—Sincerely, James Bartfield, President and CEO, JB Defense Solutions.

  I had served many years overseas, never in D.C., but I was under the impression that there were strict rules regarding government officials mingling with contractors.

  With that in mind, you can imagine my surprise when I parked in Old Town Alexandria and walked to the pier to see a massive yacht, La Clave, with bright lights, loud music, and a banner for JB Defense Solutions. I ascended the ramp and presented my invitation to a young cutie in a red, white, and blue sailor outfit with a miniskirt. She gave me a gift bag with a JB Defense Solutions pen, note pad, and USB drive. I tucked it in my pocket, accepted a Scotch on the rocks from a passing waitress, and scanned the area. I didn’t recognize anyone and walked to the ledge to admire Old Town Alexandria, then saw something in my peripheral vision.

  I turned to see Brett and Nguyen sitting at a table, waving me down.

  “How did it go with Lieutenant Colonel Li?” Brett asked.

  “He asked about you. I arranged a meeting for Saturday,” I said, with a confident look at Nguyen, then looked around and shrugged. “What the hell is this?”

  Nguyen gestured broadly. “Welcome to the wonderful world of James Bartfield. He throws these bashes all the time. By the way, congratulations—our guy attempted contact during the event but got shot down. Looks like you got the lead.”

  My inclination was to puff up my plumage and strut, but I opted to raise my drink respectfully instead, showing that it was no big deal and that I appreciated their vote of confidence.

  Brett leaned closer to create a confidential space. “You might have noticed that Bartfield is knee-deep in everything you guys do at Cyber Command.” He leaned back as a stunning waitress approached. “I come for the hot chicks.”

  “Hey boys,” the waitress said with a perky smile, dressed in the same patriotic sailor outfit that enhanced her centerfold cleavage, probably a student at one of the local universities. “Why Mr. Phelps, I do declare,” she added, playing the debutante. “The usual?”

  She handed him a Scotch on the rocks.

  “Please, call me Brett,” he said, then grabbed a soda water with lime from the tray and gestured to an open chair. “Would the future Mrs. Phelps like to join us for a drink?”

  “Only if Mr. Phelps is owne
r of this here yacht,” she said with a curtsey.

  Brett held his broken heart as Nguyen and I laughed.

  She accepted Brett’s five-dollar tip with a wink, handed the Scotch on the rocks to Nguyen, and moved to the next table—offering the same witty banter. Brett sipped his soda, admired her ass, and sighed before getting back to business.

  The music stopped and someone tapped a microphone inside on the dance floor. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said a man wearing a suit with no tie, “on behalf of JB Defense Solutions, we would like to welcome you. It is my pleasure to introduce our fearless leader, Mr. James Bartfield!”

  The crowd erupted in applause and whistles as a portly man dressed in a charcoal suit, white shirt, and no tie waved and grabbed the microphone.

  “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you very much,” Jim said. “I know you’re eager to get back to the party, but I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you again for the important partnership we’ve forged over the years. As we celebrate tonight and gaze upon the shores of our hallowed homeland, we should never forget that the world is a dangerous place, and it’s the hard-working heroes like you who protect our great republic and make it safe for our families. Thank you again for making JB Defense Solutions your partner in the fight.”

  The crowd erupted in applause as the music resumed.

  The engines surged and the yacht departed from the dock.

  Brett and Nguyen leaned closer to each other and exchanged glances to convince the other to speak first. It seemed that Nguyen drew the short straw.

  “Colonel Reed,” he said, “we received the reports from Captain Howard’s last meeting with Captain Chen.”

  His tone suggested it hadn’t gone well, but I wasn’t about to let them see me sweat. “And?”

  He glanced at Brett and turned to me. “And, given Captain Chen’s position, he should have provided much better information.”

  I sipped my drink and nodded to show the thoughtfulness that was expected of me. “I’ll reach out to Tom to see what’s going on. As you can imagine, Chen was shaken up by the coercion thing and might still be holding out.”

  They nodded and concentrated on their drinks, generously allowing me to save face as I mulled over what might have gone wrong. Perhaps Chen was dragging things out to protect his reputation and would never actually provide any information of value.

  Admittedly, I also had some concerns about Tom’s ability to manage this difficult case so early in his career, but we had to give junior officers space to grow.

  With a deep breath, Brett set his drink down. “Do you have any concerns about Tom?”

  “How so?” I knew Brett wasn’t headed in a positive direction.

  Nguyen took the lead.

  “As you know, Captain Chen was pressured into this, which raises concerns. We know you had derogatory information on him, but most men in his position would have said no.”

  I had been in the intelligence business long enough to know all the jargon and innuendo, but I honestly had no idea where this was going.

  Brett took over. “Does Tom have any lifestyle issues the Chinese could exploit?”

  I considered Tom’s night with the go-go dancer in Club Ecstasy, convinced that nothing would come of it, certainly not espionage. “Are you suggesting he’s working for the Chinese?” I asked cautiously, professionally obligated to consider the possibility. “Accusing Tom of espionage is just paranoid.”

  At a timely and welcome juncture, I spotted Lieutenant General Lewis on the other side of the deck and excused myself, shaking my head in disappointment for effect.

  Lewis waved me over and led me away from the music, a hand resting on my arm.

  “How did it go with Lieutenant Colonel Li?” he inquired.

  “Good,” I said. “Very good. He seemed eager to catch up after ten years. We’re touring the war memorials on Saturday.” I looked around to ensure that Brett and Nguyen couldn’t see my display of confidence. “FBI and CIA didn’t want me to take the lead, but Li gave their guy the Heisman.”

  Lewis nodded as a hot waitress arrived with a tray of drinks, and grabbed a club soda with lime. I raised my glass with a swirling motion to indicate I was good.

  He leaned closer. “I hear FBI and CIA aren’t pleased with Captain Howard’s last meeting with Captain Chen.”

  I took a deep breath to prepare him for the bad news.

  “They weren’t satisfied with the information Chen provided. Not only that, they also wondered out loud whether Tom might be working for the Chinese.”

  He groaned and shook his head in disappointment. “I think we can safely dismiss that nonsense, but don’t be dismissive of their concerns. If Chen’s information isn’t consistent with his access, we have to ask the tough questions.”

  When a general makes a reasonable point, it’s time to move on. “What’s with this party? Under normal circumstances, this would be considered a conflict of interest, right?”

  He shook his head with moral ambiguity. “Times are changing, for sure. We can’t defeat the cyber threat without contractors. Bartfield is a good guy, though,” he added, signaling to someone that he was on his way over. He slapped me on the back. “He wants what’s best for America. Keep me posted on your next meeting.”

  I was ready to call it a night, but the vessel hadn’t yet reached the halfway point, so I climbed the steps to the upper deck to enjoy the evening chill and the view of the stars. I had hoped that D.C. would be a change of pace from the debauchery of Bangkok, but some of the couples were on the verge of needing a hotel room. I could have as much fun as the next guy, but many of the guests, people my age, were drinking and dancing like idiots, on a school night no less.

  “Colonel Reed.”

  I turned to see the man who had introduced Mr. Bartfield. “Your presence is requested.”

  It didn’t take a trained Intelligence Officer to know that this was an unusual request, but I was curious. I was led down two levels to a living room, then down a hall to an office. The furniture and décor weren’t extravagant, but the walls were filled with photographs of Bartfield as a young Army infantry officer, with celebrities and politicians, and with his family.

  The door opened to reveal the man himself, portly yet distinguished in a tailored Italian suit.

  “Welcome, Colonel Reed,” he said and offered a firm handshake. “Lieutenant General Lewis told me many good things. I wanted to welcome you to the team and let you know that JB Defense Solutions will be with you every step of the way.”

  His charm might work on unsuspecting civilians, but I wasn’t about to let a schmoozing contractor welcome me to “the team”—whose team? He would continue to receive our money until we found a better offer. I gestured to a photograph on the wall.

  “I see you served in Vietnam,” I said.

  He nodded. “Two tours. I know you served in the infantry as well. I bet we could show these young kids a thing or two.”

  “With all this attention on cybersecurity,” I said, liking him more by the minute, “I’m beginning to wonder whether the world even needs guys like us.”

  Of course, I didn’t believe it for a second but wanted to see what he would say.

  “The day the world thinks it can live without guys like you and me,” he said with a confident grin, “is the day they’ll need us more than ever.”

  He gestured to a photograph of himself wearing a white short-sleeve dress shirt and a wide paisley tie, standing next to an IBM 386 computer. “I worked my way around the Beltway, learned a thing or two about computers, and started my own company.”

  “And here we are,” I said, cutting to the chase.

  “And here we are,” he agreed. “I think Lieutenant General Lewis was right to select you for the job.”

  I gave him a quizzical look, confused about why Lewis would discuss my selection with a contractor. “I’ve heard very good things about your company,” I said and walked to the door. “Where might I find a bathroom?”<
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  As we entered the hall, he pointed to the hostess who had taken my invitation. “Jenny will show you the way.”

  I shook Jim’s hand and allowed Jenny to lead me to Jim’s master suite. Her provocative strides appeared designed to entice, as was her flick of the hair and glance back with a seductive smile. As I entered the bathroom, she sat on the bed, crossed her legs, and waved as I closed the door. The lighting was dim, but I could swear she wasn’t wearing panties.

  I was confident that Jim wouldn’t pimp out his staff, let alone in his master suite, but I couldn’t help but imagine Jenny naked on the bed waiting for me as I unzipped my pants and released the pressure of several drinks. The music thumped above as I closed my eyes. As I washed my hands, I found myself checking my teeth and sucking in my gut, which suggested I couldn’t resist Jenny if I were indeed fortunate enough to discover her naked in bed on returning to the room.

  I reached for the door handle, unable to decide what I wanted to see.

  My final analysis was that she wouldn’t be naked. I was right.

  She bounced up from the bed and led me back to the party, but it was clear to me that I would have to learn to manage my thirst—for both Scotch and women.

  EIGHT

  As most men know and as many women are reluctant to admit, we men struggle with the transition to marriage and raising children in ways that most women do not, which is a compliment to women, by the way. Our transition to adulthood requires more trial and error, whereas women seem to bloom more naturally and organically. A popular explanation for this is that whereas women have a natural desire to select one ideal mate to produce fit offspring, men have a natural desire to spread their seed into as many mates as possible.

  This battle of the sexes is rooted in the blind drive of DNA to replicate itself, but we found a way to harmonize the interests of both sides: pair bonding, later given legal status as marriage. With marriage, men and women can satisfy their natural desires and keep society on the narrow path of social progress. Married couples are more financially successful, more sexually satisfied, and more likely to bear successful children. Women face more social sanctions for infidelity, for sure, so that men can have the emotional security of knowing that they are raising their own biological children, but DNA testing has forever changed the cheating game.