EXFIL

by Anthony C. Patton

  News spread fast—the President was briefed immediately—as we walked to the heart of the Pentagon. Lewis said we had to attend a demonstration of JB Defense Solutions’ project for revamping the Department of Defense’s computer systems, moving all the NIPRNet and SIPRNet information to the cloud. I grabbed an open seat in the audience while Lewis sat next to James Bartfield in the VIP section. He whispered in Bartfield’s ear with a gesture to me.

  Bartfield turned to give me an encouraging thumbs-up and returned his attention to the presenter. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, getting that thumbs-up felt good.

  The presenter received a question from the audience and gestured to a diagram on the screen behind him. “Time for the way we handle classified information to catch up with technology,” he said. “In the past, the encryption methods and communications channels had significant implications for cost and hardware, which is no longer the case. We currently have three systems: NIPRNet for unclassified, SIPRNet for secret, and JWICS for top secret SCI. Encryption is more powerful and cheaper, and the potential for moving our information to a cloud would slash costs and improve security.”

  A hand went up.

  “If all of our classified information resides on a cloud, wouldn’t this make the possibility of a breach even more devastating? One successful penetration by the Chinese or Russians would compromise everything.”

  The presenter shook his head. “True, but with a single point of defense, we can focus our efforts to protect our servers. The data will be encrypted and compartmented in the cloud. Unlike our currents systems, NIPRNet and SIPRNet, a penetration would be nearly impossible. If they did penetrate the system, they could never decrypt the files, even if they were running super computers in parallel. Now, a quantum computer, that’s a different story.”

  Another hand went up. “Could you explain how the cloud would work if I wanted to send a classified document to someone?”

  The presenter nodded. “If you wanted to send a classified document that was saved on your computer, you would attach it to an email, same as now. However, if you wanted to send a classified document that was saved on the cloud, such as an intelligence report, you would send a link to the document. We can restrict access to view only to prevent people from downloading or saving it to their computer.

  Another hand went up. “Studies show that this program is cost prohibitive, between installing the new program, eliminating the old programs, and making the new system compatible with other classified systems in the Intelligence Community. Do you have any indications that Congress is willing to fund this?”

  The presenter nodded knowingly. “Cost will be an issue, but we’re hearing there’s bipartisan support in Congress.” He gestured to Bartfield, who gave a hearty thumbs-up. “We only have to consider the recent cyberattacks by China against the Pentagon to know that doing nothing will cost us a lot more in terms of national security.”

  He scanned the crowd again—no more questions. “Thank you,” he voiced.

  The members of the audience applauded and dispersed. Lewis stood with Bartfield. A military officer with a concerned look interrupted their conversation and pulled Lewis aside.

  I walked over, shook Bartfield’s hand, and waited patiently.

  “Congratulations,” Bartfield whispered. “Of course, after my cloud system is up and running, we won’t have to worry about cyberattacks.”

  “You seem confident about your system,” I said. “The enemy will always find ways to defeat technology, like the insider threat.”

  He waved and smiled to someone on the other side of the room. “Excuse me,” he said. “Time to schmooze a senator for money.”

  I believed he had good intentions, but it bothered me to imagine the profit incentives driving these decisions. Lewis ended his conversation and turned to me. “So, is this how we fight wars now—sales pitches?” I asked.

  He nodded seriously. “I appreciate your concerns about the federal budgeting process, but we no longer have the luxury of avoiding the politics of the defense budget. We lack the skill sets to solve these problems.”

  “If Bartfield’s program is the best and the cyberattacks continue,” I said, “why is it still stuck in Congress?”

  “Because different senators are lobbying for defense contractors from their own states to get the deal. All the experts I trust say Bartfield’s product is the best, and I know he’s someone we can trust.”

  I had no idea how to solve the problem and didn’t want to make a scene, so I shut up and followed him to a corner. He paused pensively and looked at me.

  “Were you and Captain Howard going to a place called Club Ecstasy?” he inquired.

  Goddammit, I thought, my neck prickling.

  “We went a few times, just like every military attaché in Bangkok for the past twenty years.”

  “But now we have a captain who committed suicide,” he said. “We have to set high standards for our junior officers.”

  “With all due respect, General,” I said, “many of our sources ask us to go there and give us good information between drinks and lap dances, because they knew we would pay the bill. I understand if you have to pander to the PC cult here in D.C., but that shit won’t fly in the field, assuming you want successes like the one we had today.”

  He nodded and exhaled. “I know, I know. As long as it was work and there was no funny business, we’re good.” He paused. “No funny business, right?”

  “No,” I said with a shrug, pondering the implications of my lie.

  Tom had admitted to being unfaithful in his note, but never mentioned anyone else knowing.

  Lewis shook my hand.

  “Congratulations on the operation. I’m off to brief the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”

  I checked my watch. Crap. I was running late for my rendezvous with Anna and Judy. In the Pentagon parking lot, I hustled to my car and unlocked the door with the key fob. I found odd satisfaction in the double flash of the lights and chirp of the alarm system. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Donna Howard step out of her car and approach me.

  “Colonel Reed,” she asked, “can we talk?”

  I checked my watch and shrugged like a man with a plan, as if I had someplace to go urgently. I was curious about how she’d tracked me down. “Could we talk tomorrow?”

  “I wanted to ask you about Club Ecstasy,” she said and removed a mauve matchbook from her purse.

  Goddammit, I thought. “There’s a coffee shop down the road.”

  EIGHTEEN

  During the drive, the reflection of Donna’s headlights, too close for comfort in my rearview mirror, was a burning indicator that she might unleash hell. I could only assume that she had heard about Club Ecstasy from the rumor mill in Bangkok and wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

  I rehearsed as I drove, refining a response about how Tom and I had gone there a few times for business, no big deal, but that I had no reason to believe he might have slept with a dancer. We weren’t supposed to use the tools of the trade on family or friends, but Lewis’s ominous tone had already suggested this was a problem that would fester.

  It was evening, so we opted for decaf, my treat. The good folk of Crystal City were used to seeing uniforms, so no one looked our way.

  Her eyes shifted as she sipped her coffee. Women will stop at nothing to protect their families, but military wives understood that rank still mattered. The best strategy was to put her as ease and show her that I was eager to talk.

  “How are you holding up?”

  She shrugged with less tension than I had anticipated. “One day at a time. It’s been hard on the kids, you know. How are Beth and the boys?”

  “Good,” I said with a sincere nod. “I saw them the other day for Beth’s book-signing event. You’re still at your parents’ house, right?”

  She set her cup down, reached into her purse, and set the mauve matchbook on the table. She never did answer the question.

  “I wanted to a
sk you about Club Ecstasy,” she said quietly.

  I picked up the matchbook, inspected it like a foreign artifact, and gently set it down. She was smart to begin with an open-ended question, to see how I would react or what I would offer on my own. I projected nothing but idle curiosity in the object I knew all too well.

  “I found it in Tom’s personal items.” She returned it to her purse. “It was clear from his letter that he was with another woman.”

  I nodded ambiguously, to neither confirm nor deny.

  “I guess what I’m asking,” she continued with more confidence, “is whether you know what he was talking about? When we met, he wasn’t a strip club kind of guy.”

  As far as you knew.

  Her implicit accusation was that I was a strip club kind of guy, something Tom might have told her during our visits to Club Ecstasy. I assumed the professorial role.

  “Club Ecstasy was one of the more popular clubs. The nature of our work sometimes required us to bring contacts to those places.”

  She nodded calmly and sipped her coffee as she looked outside. It never ceased to amaze me how wives had such a knack for the business. “Did the two of you ever go to this particular club, you know, for work?”

  I feigned memory recollection and nodded. “We had two promising targets we were pursuing together. I seem to recall going there a few times.”

  “I don’t know whether you knew,” she said with more confidence, playing one of her cards, “but CID went to Bangkok for the investigation. For the three days they suspect Tom went to Club Ecstasy, each time with you, the security tapes were missing, only for those three days. That seems like an odd coincidence, don’t you think?”

  Holy shit—more than you can imagine. “Odd indeed,” I said to convey that we were on the same page. This revelation was disturbing on many levels because it suggested the Chinese had a source in the club who was monitoring our activities and holding the evidence.

  This was why I never touched the girls in the club, except for the one time with Jewel.

  “I know this isn’t easy to discuss,” she said after folding her hands with a deep breath, “but did you ever see Tom with another woman?”

  Time to don my colonel’s hat. “Donna, I was his supervisor. We maintained a professional relationship. If he was misbehaving, he wouldn’t have told me—UCMJ and all.” I had no idea what Tom had told her about my behavior.

  She looked at her coffee, set it aside, and stood.

  “Thanks for your time, Colonel Reed. Please let me know if you hear anything else.”

  “Of course,” I said. Perhaps she didn’t suspect anything after all, but if I had learned anything over the years, it was that an Intelligence Officer was never not an Intelligence Officer. Many times in life, what appeared to be the walls closing in around you was nothing more than random noise that passed with time, but it required iron discipline to weather the storm.

  ◆◆◆

  It probably wasn’t a good idea to meet Anna at a nightclub wearing my Class A uniform, but there was nothing I could do at this point. I started the car and sent her a text saying I was running late and wearing my uniform, so she wouldn’t be surprised. To my relief, she responded immediately with “np” and a kiss emoji.

  During the drive, I missed a series of traffic lights, always at the last second, mostly because the other drivers were oblivious to the speed limit signs or the world around them. I struggled to control my road rage and distill why I was feeling so angry: the drivers were idiots; I was running late; or, most likely, Donna knew more than she was letting on.

  I accepted that I would have to work through the uncertainty.

  “Can I help you, officer?” the bouncer asked when I arrived, feeling the thumping techno music from the street.

  “I’m here to meet a friend,” I said.

  He inspected my uniform, shrugged, and raised the brass latch for the velvet rope.

  Up to this point, I could make sense of my relationship with Anna. She was younger, but we blended in well enough at restaurants. This place, however, I couldn’t make heads or tails of, with the blasting music, neon lights, and kids who looked as if they should be doing their homework. Hot women wearing next to nothing were one provocative move away from getting hired as pole dancers, while many of the men looked as though they didn’t have serious careers in their futures.

  As I elbowed my way through the crowd, Anna was a sight for sore eyes at the bar.

  I stood and admired her at a distance for some time; clearly, she didn’t know I was there. A young man touched her arm and whispered in her ear. She tolerated his futile advances, but I couldn’t ignore the primal urge to hurry my pace. The best approach was to arrive with a confident kiss on the cheek and block out the anonymous young man.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said.

  The young man, confident and drunk, stayed in the picture with a curious look my way. “I think it’s too soon to introduce me to your father.”

  I turned to reveal my uniform. “Get lost, punk.”

  He looked dazed and confused as he turned to Anna. She smiled and waved, suggesting she was waiting for me.

  “What the fuck?” he mumbled as he walked away.

  “Yeah, what the fuck?” Anna asked as she stroked my arm and pulled me in closer for a kiss.

  I gestured to my uniform. “I got caught up in work and couldn’t change. Should we go to my hotel? I forgot my ecstasy pills and glow sticks.”

  “Okay, boomer,” she said and led me to the dance floor.

  I was never a techno fan, but the thumping pulse of the electronic music tapped into something distal and universal, slowly emancipating me from my side step with arms at ninety degrees. Anna, though, danced as if the music was radiating from her body. She moved close enough for me to taste the tequila shot on her breath, and she nestled her leg against my crotch as she whispered in my ear. “Are you ready to meet my friend?”

  I nodded, acting as if I had forgotten.

  She kissed me. “We can leave anytime.”

  The fantasy of having sex with two women was exhilarating, making me wonder why I had never proposed it with Jewel. I assumed this was a regular request of clients, and she would have agreed, even if just to make me happy. For Anna, though, I was surprised and chalked it up to the younger generation’s openness to new things.

  Lucky for me, she was possibly exploring her sexuality, whatever that meant, but it certainly added a new layer of complexity to this most intriguing woman.

  At the hotel, I poured two Scotches on the rocks and excused myself to the bedroom to change into jeans and a short-sleeved white linen shirt. I took a leak, gargled some mouthwash, and splashed cold water on my face to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  I joined her on the couch with a kiss. “So, how does this work?”

  “The way it works is we both act natural and not let things get weird, OK?”

  I neutralized my grin—all good.

  Her phone rang. She checked the caller ID and walked to the window.

  “Hey, you made it. We’re in 702,” she said.

  I stood and hugged her. “So, this Judy is a friend?”

  “Not at all,” she said. “She’s a prostitute I found on Craigslist.”

  This was a gentle hint that it was getting weird again, so I took a deep breath to expel the creepiness. From this point forward, I was a mature and desirable man getting ready to satisfy my sexual desires with two women. Her pupils dilated and a smile filled her face as we kissed and caressed each other, until the gentle knock on the door.

  Anna gave me a final hug and kissed me with a sincere smile. “I never told you this before, but I really admire your service to our country.”

  That seemed like an odd thing to say at a moment like this, but my pounding heart overwhelmed me as Anna opened the door to reveal a beautiful Asian woman wearing a white silk blouse, black pencil skirt, and red high heels. I could tell she had Thai blood, but the mix was exotic an
d arousing.

  They closed the door and approached me holding hands, with Anna offering a heartfelt smile to put me at ease.

  “Nice to meet you,” Judy said with a submissive arch of the eyebrows. She was taller than the average Asian woman, with A-cup breasts, minimal curves, and a flat ass. The most arousing thing was that women aroused her.

  “Nice to meet you, Judy,” I said and zipped my lip.

  Anna handed Judy our two empty glasses. “Why don’t you pour us a drink and join us in the bedroom?”

  Anna held my hand and led the way.

  She helped me get comfortable on the bed and sat on the chair in the corner.

  What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I want to watch first,” she said with a suggestive arch of the eyebrows.

  Judy entered the room with three Scotches on the rocks, handed one to Anna, and slithered onto the bed with me. To my surprise, she downed her drink in one gulp and set the glass on the nightstand. I did the same and looked at Anna.

  She gestured playfully for me to focus my attention on Judy.

  It all started with a kiss, which transported me back to how I had felt with Jewel, back to the arousing submission of Asian women. I took Anna’s advice to go with the flow and let Judy take the lead. I was surprised by how quickly she unzipped my jeans, slid them down, and performed oral sex, with the most dazzling and delightful tongue play. As my eyes shifted between Judy and Anna, I felt overwhelmed by a desire to sleep. I resisted and blinked my eyes to stay awake.

  The last thing I recall was Judy unzipping her skirt.

  NINETEEN

  I awoke the next morning alone, bathed in sunlight and with a pounding headache—no idea where I was or who I was. The walk to the kitchenette was painful, worse than the usual throbbing hangover. I was surprised by the time on the microwave oven—9:45 am—as I drank a glass of water and checked my phone to see a missed call from Brett.

  I vaguely recalled Anna and Judy, so I called Anna and was surprised to hear that her number was no longer in service. Perplexed, I called again and got the same message—not a good sign.