EXFIL

by Anthony C. Patton

  I was flattered by their attention but it was clear that I was being sold on a teaching position, over a splendid plate of roasted lamb chops and rosemary potatoes with Pinot Noir. She had even taken the opportunity to borrow West Point China, silverware, and linen napkins.

  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Beth would have been a successful Intelligence Officer. This dinner was motivated by love, to help my career and our future together, and yet she had also taken reasonable steps to manipulate me—well played.

  “Edward,” I said after Warren insisted I use his first name, “I’m sure Beth has mentioned that my next assignment will depend on the upcoming promotion panel. I consider myself competitive and I’d love to hear your views.”

  “We wish you the best of luck with your promotion, of course,” Warren said, “but there’s only one brigadier general position here at West Point on the academic side, yours truly, and I plan to be here two more years.”

  I smiled at Beth and used my fork to pierce my last piece of lamb and potato, then took a sip of wine. “We can cross that bridge when the time comes. What would teaching opportunities look like?” I asked.

  Beth took our plates to the kitchen.

  Briggs dabbed his mouth. “Beth, that was amazing,” he called to her, and turned to me. “We ideally like our instructors to have a master’s degree, but we all agreed that your overseas experience as a military attaché should be taken into consideration.”

  Should be taken into consideration?

  Beth knew that nothing irked me more than academics clinging to their paper degrees when they possessed no worldly experience, so I took a deep breath to calm myself.

  “I appreciate that. I’ve always thought that an overseas assignment of two to three years was the equivalent of a master’s degree.”

  There were smiles around the table when Beth returned with four slices of cheesecake.

  Briggs nodded. “I agree, but the academic community tends to disagree, which is why we would be happy to help you work toward a master’s degree or Ph.D. during your time here at West Point.”

  Beth raised an encouraging eyebrow, pleading with me to bite my lip and play nice. I knew her intentions were good, but she was railroading me into this.

  “Beth tells us you’re focused on cybersecurity now,” Warren said. “What are your thoughts on how this will transform warfare?”

  “We’re making good progress on protecting our national security systems,” I said, “so cyberattacks should be less successful in the future, but the country as a whole has a long way to go, particularly with regard to our critical infrastructure and intellectual property. We’re vulnerable.” As soon as I finished speaking, I regretted my response, which sounded cautiously academic.

  “With the rise of cyberattacks, unmanned weapon systems, and smart weapons,” Briggs said, “is there still a role for traditional soldiers? Should we rethink the profile of cadets we recruit to attend West Point?”

  “No matter what we accomplish with technology to turn war into a video game,” I said, “we’ll always need boots on the ground to win hearts and minds and strong leadership to execute and enforce the terms of war. To answer your question, they’ll need us more than ever because only warriors have enough respect for the horrors of war to be trusted with it.”

  I couldn’t decipher how our guests assessed my response, but we finished the cheesecake, raved to Beth about her fantastic cooking, and wished each other well after a fine evening.

  After they left, she and I worked efficiently to rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher. She left the pots and pans in the sink to soak and said she would finish the next day between classes.

  “That was nice,” she said as we walked upstairs.

  “Was I right in thinking this was a job interview?”

  She closed the bedroom door behind us and got undressed. “Well, we have discussed a teaching position here as one of your options, but as you heard, this took some convincing because of the requirement for an advanced degree.”

  I knew she was acting with the best interests of the family in mind, and there was nothing wrong with nudging me in this direction if it meant we could be together again, which made her the only reasonable adult in the bedroom.

  I felt nervous about caressing her from behind as she tossed her clothes on a chair to reveal a black lace bra and thong, which was high on the sexy spectrum for her.

  Intelligence Officers often misjudged situations due to their own guilty knowledge, so I reminded myself that Beth was my wife, who had no idea about my relationships with Jewel or Anna. After this much time apart, anything less than an aggressive move on my part would set off alarm bells. She leaned back against me. Her skin tingled as I kissed her neck.

  She turned and kissed me on the lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I said and pressed her body against mine, kissing her passionately as I unbuttoned my shirt. With a minor fumble, she yanked my belt and unzipped my pants to drop them to the floor. I hoisted her up. She moaned and wrapped her legs around me as I took small steps to the bed and fell backward.

  She straddled me and rode me gently, moaning, raising her arms and tossing her hair as I caressed her breasts. I hadn’t seen her like this in years, aroused as though it was the first time, her beautiful face bathing in a halo of moonlight. With a sudden move, she fell to her side and crawled to grab the bedpost with both hands, with a seductive look back.

  We adjusted our knees clumsily on the down comforter as I entered her from behind.

  “Harder,” she said and arched her back.

  I duly obliged with some hesitation, realizing I needed something to hold to thrust more forcefully. With all inhibitions gone, and for the first time in our marriage, I grabbed her beautiful sandy blonde hair like a horse’s mane and tugged her head back with each thrust as I slammed her from behind. “Yes!” she screamed.

  The bed was rocking as we both reached orgasm and collapsed on the bed.

  I looked at the ceiling, taking deep breaths and feeling my heart pounding.

  Holy shit. We rolled over and kissed as she grinned and touched my chin.

  We both instinctively looked at the door in silence, wondering if the boys would arrive to see what was happening—nothing. “Wow—we’ve still got it.”

  “Did we ever not have it?” she asked, and kissed me.

  “And that thing with your hair—good?” I asked.

  “It’s our very good secret,” she said.

  With this sexual breakthrough, I was ready to dedicate my life to her and leave the pleasures of Jewel and Anna behind. Of course, this would require me to stop my current plan and accept a teaching position, but—well, not just yet.

  TWENTY-ONE

  In espionage, the post-pitch meeting was always critical because many sources would get cold feet or buyer’s remorse and need renewed convincing that their original decision to betray their country had been the right one.

  Some sources were concerned about their security, others wanted more money, while still others wanted out or claimed they didn’t understand what they had agreed to do.

  A skilled Intelligence Officer could weather this storm and steady the ship. After all, no reasonable person could agree to betray his country without a significant emotional response.

  For Jade Envy, because he had provided information that allowed us to prevent a cyberattack, most professionals would assume that he was legitimate and be ready to get down to business.

  This was what I told Brett and Nguyen, with a promise to discuss their list of more compromising questions. I, of course, knew otherwise. The information he provided about the cyberattack on the Pentagon was mere feed material to convince us that he was the real deal.

  For reasons not yet clear, the Chinese wanted us to believe that he was working for us, and his reason for doing so would be revealed during this meeting.

  We were on our home turf, but
we took security precautions to ensure that no one observed the meeting. Protecting sources and methods was job number one in the intelligence business.

  We could meet in a bar or restaurant with minimal risk, but we didn’t want to be seen by someone from his embassy or one of the hundreds of foreign Intelligence Officers working the streets of D.C. Not to mention, we wanted to show him that everything was fine; he wouldn’t expect anything less. As such, the FBI had provided me an alias driver’s license and credit card to get a hotel suite, a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, and a tin of salted cashews.

  Something told me neither of us would be in the mood to eat.

  I arrived a half hour early to prepare the suite and pour a drink, pacing around like a tiger in its cage, considering what I wanted to say and how I would handle the meeting, depending on what curve balls he threw my way. I soon found myself holding an empty glass and pouring a second drink. I turned on the television to mask the sound in case a curious neighbor or passerby wanted to eavesdrop on our conversation. Soon after, somehow, my glass was empty again.

  By the time I heard a knock on the door, I was halfway through my third drink. Through the peephole, I saw he was dressed in a blue blazer with no tie. I opened the door, shook his hand and waved him inside, and glanced both ways to ensure the coast was clear.

  I hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the handle and locked the door.

  Without asking, I poured him a drink.

  We toasted in silence and sat on the couch.

  “I wanted to start with thank you,” I said. “You helped us prevent a cyberattack.”

  He nodded with his gentle smile, humble as ever. “This is good news.”

  “How did your unit respond to the failed attack?” I asked.

  “Your technicians were excellent,” he said. “Their actions looked like a routine defense protocol.”

  “We aim to please,” I said and cleared my throat. “We noticed they used a commercial tool,” I added, hoping for a reaction, “one we’ve never seen your unit use before.”

  He nodded, sipped his drink, and grabbed a handful of cashews. “We use a variety of tools depending on the operation.”

  He almost had me convinced that everything was fine. “How are things at work?” I asked. The purpose of this question was to discern whether the newly minted source had noticed anything unusual at work since the pitch, which was what he would expect me to ask.

  “No problems,” he said. “All good, as you say.”

  I would normally have spent more time building rapport and stroking his ego, but I glanced at my watch and unfolded the paper with the technical questions. “I’m sure you’re very busy, so I have some things we should discuss.”

  He accepted it and handed me a folded piece of paper in return.

  “What’s this?” I asked and slowly unfolded it.

  “That is the information you are going to pass to your superiors,” he said.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, but of course, I did.

  He set his drink down. “Now that your government believes I work for you, I would like to offer you the opportunity to work for me.”

  Everything was proceeding as anticipated. “Why would I do that? I’m not the one with massive credit card debts.” It was now clear that the credit card incident was a ruse to lure me into a trap. In the world of espionage, every data point with a positive angle had an equally offsetting negative angle as well.

  “I will tell you a story,” he said and leaned back, resisting a smile. “You ran an operation in Bangkok against one of my officers, Captain Chen. You obtained a video of his unsavory activities at a seedy hotel owned by your friend Dale and coerced him to work for you. As I told you during the last meeting, this operation was under our control, under my control. As it turns out, Captain Howard was also caught in a compromising position.”

  I leaned back to project indifference.

  “Captain Howard fled Bangkok,” he said, “because our polygraph would have detected his lies. His wife and superiors should receive the video soon.” He grabbed more cashews. “He did provide us one useful piece of information.”

  I gestured for him to continue, noting that they didn’t appear to know that Tom was dead.

  “He said you had been reassigned to Cyber Command.” He leaned forward, eating one cashew at a time. “I decided then that you were my primary target.”

  “Where I come from, we call that a fatal mistake,” I said with feigned anger. “Do you really think you can work me in my own country?”

  “But the story has only just begun, Colonel Reed.” He leaned back and ate the last cashew. “Given your missed promotion and your weakness for women, we baited you with the promise of a sexual fantasy. It wasn’t what you expected, am I right?”

  Like a good Intelligence Officer, he didn’t mention Anna by name, but he now knew that I knew. He removed a phone, cued up a video, and handed it to me.

  Needless to say, the last thought in my imagination was what I found myself watching. I did my best to keep a straight face, but when “Judy” removed a wig and a skirt to reveal male genitalia, I could only imagine what came next and set the phone on the table.

  “Like Captain Chen,” he said with a confident smirk, “your extramarital affair was caught on film, with a dude no less.”

  “So what?” I asked. “You show me this video and now you think I’ll work for you? Who gives a shit? I was drugged. Fuck your video.”

  He raised a conciliatory hand.

  “You look conscious in most of the video—a special drug from our Chinese doctors. Someone watching it, like Beth, your boys, or your colleagues at work might conclude that you have latent homosexual tendencies,” he added with a wink. “But the story is not over.”

  I sipped my drink and refused a second offer to watch the video—I’m good, thanks.

  “The origin of this operation goes back to Bangkok,” he continued as he set three DVDs on the table, each with a date written with black Sharpie. “An investigation of Captain Howard has led your CID investigator to Club Ecstasy. What you don’t know about your favorite club is that the owner worked for us. He provided us the three security tapes of you and Captain Howard, to include when you pressured him to have sex with a dancer.” He paused. “As we know, he followed your direct order.”

  He played an audio file on his phone. “Get your ass back there…that’s an order.”

  No doubt about it—that was my voice, which meant the dancer had been wearing a wire. I sculpted a look of indifference and shook my head scornfully, but this one hit me like a ton of bricks as my heart raced and my vision blurred. Tom was a grown man who’d made his own decisions, but I wondered in the back of my mind whether my cavalier comment had pushed him to do something he wouldn’t have done otherwise.

  With soul-searching honesty, I felt terrible, but a recording of my own words would leave no doubts in the mind of Donna and others that I had pressured him to do it.

  “We were messing around,” I said. “The part your recording didn’t capture was that he was planning to do it anyway. Do you think this was the only time he slept with a dancer?”

  He shook his head. “I am disappointed that you would besmirch the reputation of your colleague rather than take responsibility for your actions.”

  I stood and grabbed the bottle to refill our drinks and returned to the couch. “It’s obvious where you’re taking this, but you know I would face any consequences before betraying my country.”

  I gave him a confident stare. “I have a better option. How about you agree to work for us, for real this time, and tell your boss that tonight wasn’t the right time to pop the question? Otherwise, I could arrange to have you sent home.”

  He stacked the three DVDs, slid them aside, and removed an envelope from his inside blazer pocket. He removed four black and white photographs of me and Jewel in my Bangkok apartment and lined them up to create the illusion of cinematic motion, a replay of the fou
r photographs I had shown to Captain Chen, which meant they had also installed a camera in my bedroom.

  Son of a bitch. I tucked the photos into the envelope with a casual gesture from him for me to keep them. I didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or stupid for thinking that moving our relationship to my apartment was a good move.

  “Jewel insisted that the two of you were just friends,” he said, “and I respect the fact that you helped her further her education, but something tells me that your wife and your superiors would be less understanding.”

  I never could have imagined a scenario that could tilt me toward betraying my country, no matter how egregious, but the possibility of losing Beth, not getting promoted, and facing multiple criminal charges under the UCMJ—ending my life as I knew it—was setting off alarm bells.

  Still, I was smart enough to know that every plan had a weakness, this one included.

  They say near-death experiences bring clarity, and they were right.

  As I processed all the variables, I knew there was only one way to escape unscathed.

  “You might survive a video of a homosexual liaison,” Li said. “You might survive an audio recording of pressuring Captain Howard to sleep with a dancer. But will your marriage to Beth survive, and will you ever get promoted to brigadier general if we expose these photographs?”

  I leaned back and folded my arms, inviting him to close the deal.

  “All we ask,” he said, “in exchange for one million dollars and continued feed material to keep the operation with me running, is that you give us access to the next set of security patches for the Pentagon. We know you will transport them from Cyber Command to the Pentagon tomorrow.”

  Now, it all made sense. They wanted Anna to collect the security patches but her security clearance was on administrative hold, which limited her access, so they had used her to get to me. No matter how brilliant their plan seemed, though, it had a fatal flaw that I planned to exploit.