EXFIL

by Anthony C. Patton

  She touched my hand. “I’m sorry the brigadier general promotion didn’t work out. I know how important it was to you.”

  I held her hand. “How about we drive to West Point together?”

  “I’d like that,” she said.

  ◆◆◆

  Sports fans will remember the Miracle on Ice when the U.S. hockey team defeated the Soviet Union in the 1980 Winter Olympics. Many still consider this one of the greatest upsets in sports history, and many falsely believe that it resulted in team USA winning the gold medal.

  What many don’t recall, however, is that we subsequently defeated Finland to win the gold, the Soviet Union defeating Sweden to win bronze. This operation with Jade Envy was similar. With the initial victory out of the way—the tortuous journey of compromising myself to get past the Chinese polygraph—we now had to face a final game against a less challenging opponent. China had taken the bait for the first round and now it was time to close the deal.

  Jade Envy and I agreed to meet the night after the big cyberattack in case Cyber Command developed new security patches. From the commentary on cable news, it was clear that the attack was destructive but not lethal. Critical command and control systems were still up and running.

  I transported the security patches from Cyber Command to the Pentagon, with a stop at a different underground parking lot along the way. As if all of this wasn’t odd enough, Brett and Nguyen showed me the audio and video equipment installed in my rental vehicle, which had captured my previous meeting with Jade Envy. They needed the recording this time as part of the deal to let me off without legal consequences. I wasn’t offended. They reminded me that Jade Envy was the enemy and gave me a pep talk to keep my head in the game.

  Jade Envy and the same computer technician were waiting for me in the new underground parking lot. I lowered the window and handed him the laptop. He looked pleasantly surprised.

  “More security patches—already?” he asked.

  I nodded as the technician got to work.

  “Thanks to you, we had a major success,” he said.

  Per the script, I played the role of an angry, coerced source who honestly didn’t give a rat’s ass whether he was pleased with the success or not. “I want my money.”

  “You are doing the world a great service,” he said.

  “You guys are pushing us to the brink of war.”

  “We know many of your senior government and military officials do not support the endless wars,” he said. “Your economic system has reached a point of instability. If you stop the wars and the loose monetary policy with low interest rates, your economy will collapse. And yet, your leaders continue their arrogant ways.”

  “You actually believe these attacks are helping?” I asked as the technician continued his work, intrigued by our terse exchange. It was a textbook technique to make a source feel part of the team, but I found it hard to believe that Jade Envy thought this tactic would work on a professional like me. The only thing keeping me calm was the knowledge that they were digging their own grave.

  “We will cause no harm to your critical infrastructure,” he said, “despite all the propaganda in the media. Our only goal is to dismantle your war machine. If your warplanes cannot fly and your battleships cannot sail, the wars will end. We can finally live in a world of peace based on mutual respect.”

  The computer technician removed the USB drive from the laptop computer.

  “Everything is in order,” he announced.

  “Hey, not so fast,” I said. “The only way I can continue with this relationship is if you provide me good intelligence. In case you forgot, my bosses still believe you work for me.” Given the coercive nature of this relationship, I had to be irritable and hard to please. Anything less would be suspect.

  Jade Envy considered the request and held my stare.

  He raised a large manila envelope and handed it to me.

  “Those are sensitive cables from the embassy,” he said. “Your experts should be able to confirm their value.” He reached across the divide and offered a professional handshake. “Remember, Colonel Reed, we are on the same team.”

  As I sat in my car and watched them drive away, I smiled and felt a moment of satisfaction as I considered the fact that the Chinese were now running two double agents, had accepted two Trojan horses, and would soon pay the price.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  By the time you unravel a mystery, life moves you along without the option of a do-over. Many people experience profound insights toward the end of life, and look back with regret as they assess the choices they made. The same is true of relationships. When you’re looking for love, you never find it, and when you stop looking, it finds you. Women who ignored you when you were single come out of the woodwork after you announce your engagement. I imagine many suitors weren’t pleased to hear that Beth and I had got engaged.

  I mention these life ironies because as I was about to leave the Army with my dignity intact, to include an honorable discharge and full pension, I got a call from James Bartfield saying he wanted to discuss a career opportunity. I told him I accepted a teaching position at West Point, to which he replied I should have nothing to fear by stopping by to hear him out.

  I felt relieved as I poured my morning coffee in the hotel lobby and walked to my car. Despite my career going down in a blaze of glory, I felt liberated in many ways. The thought of not obsessing about performance objectives to pad my annual fitness report for promotions and assignments was a welcome relief, opening my eyes to other opportunities that were closed to me as a military officer, such as getting involved in politics or writing about my experiences.

  I knew I would miss the esprit de corps of the Army and wearing the uniform, but I also understood that working with people like Bartfield or think tanks would allow me to shape the way we fight wars and execute foreign policy. As I listened to the news on the radio about the latest on the Chinese cyberattack, I found myself listening more cynically, thinking about how journalists and talking heads were shaping the narrative or cherry-picking facts to support a political agenda.

  I used to ridicule the blatant propaganda of foreign media, until I held my own country up to a mirror.

  I drove along I-495 north to Maryland, to the campus of JB Defense Solutions.

  Judging by the luxury sedans in the parking lot, the company was rolling in cash and setting the groundwork for some comfortable retirements.

  “My name is Colonel Reed. I have a meeting with Mr. Bartfield,” I said and handed my driver’s license to the security guard as I admired the marble floor. The lobby was spacious with classy artwork and a glass elevator.

  The guard checked the guest list and gestured to the x-ray machine. I set my phone, sunglasses, and keys in a plastic basket and walked through the metal detector, relieved that it didn’t buzz. A group of six well-dressed young men and women engaged in lively conversation entered with casual flashes of their security badges. Mr. Bartfield was clearly hiring the best and the brightest.

  I exited the elevator on the fourth floor to see a charming secretary waiting for me. She was in her late fifties with salon hair, reading glasses around her neck, and wearing an elegant light gray wool business suit and heels. “Good morning, Colonel Reed.”

  She led the way to a posh corner office with a view of the rolling hills.

  She pointed to a folder on the desk. “Mr. Bartfield would like your assessment of this project. Could I offer you something to drink?”

  “I’m fine,” I said and sat. “Thank you.”

  She excused herself as I opened the file to see a report about a port security project in Thailand. I was already familiar with the project from my time in Bangkok, understanding the special interest groups that were battling behind the scenes, and the space for foreign investment.

  I concluded that this project hadn’t been randomly selected.

  I looked up to see a Laocoön statue on a table in the corner. Curious, I walked over and saw
a card on the table with my name written in calligraphy. I opened the linen stationary to read: “Colonel Reed, Laocoön met a tragic fate, but I believe in second chances and a merciful God. Let’s keep America safe. Regards, Lieutenant General Lewis.”

  “This office suits you well,” James Bartfield said, entered the office, and offered his hand for a firm handshake.

  “Nice touch,” I said with a gesture to the statue and sat on the couch.

  “I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “I have a senior position available on my team. I know about the operation with the Chinese, but rather than pass judgment, I view it as an opportunity to start a new chapter in your life. In fact, I imagine you have some ideas about how to win the port contract in Thailand.”

  “I could make a few calls,” I said.

  “I’m sure you could,” he said and handed me an envelope. “That’s my offer.”

  I opened the envelope and unfolded the paper to see a column of numbers I never imagined—base, bonus, commission, and stock options. I nodded, convinced that Beth would want to hear this. “One point two million?”

  “Assuming you deliver on the Thailand port project,” he said with a friendly wink. “Look, Colonel Reed, like you, I’m proud of my service, but here you’ll have a chance to defend national security, with no bureaucracy or bullshit. The military lacks the personnel and technology to do what we do.”

  After Beth’s tongue-lashing over not consulting with her about my retirement, I decided against giving him my answer, although my instinct was to jump at the money. The thought of prepaying college for our two sons after one year of work was appealing, and Beth could find a teaching position in D.C. after the popularity of her book. I offered my hand.

  “I’ll take it into consideration,” I said.

  “Talk to Beth and let me know,” he said and stood. “I’ll hold this office for you.”

  I admired the office briefly before leaving, with a pause at the door to look back at the Laocoön. Its grip on me finally started to ease.

  I exited the elevator on the first floor and initiated an informal tour of the facility—cafeteria, fitness center, and conference rooms. As I passed one of the rooms, applause erupted after a man said a few words into a microphone. Curious, I entered the back of the room and was surprised to see Anna standing next to a man at the podium.

  “It’s not an overstatement to say that Anna put JB Defense Solutions on the map,” he said. “From her work on the cloud program at the Pentagon to the China cyber operation, we’re now on the cutting edge of cyber operations and doing our part to keep America safe. You’ll be missed, Anna, but we wish you well on your transition to the dark side.” He paused for laughter. “Thank you for a job well done and the best of luck.”

  The crowd applauded and dispersed. Several admirers approached to congratulate Anna, who looked confident with a happy innocence radiating from her face—something she had never shown with me. I waited outside the room, surprised by how nervous I felt, and intrigued that she worked for Bartfield and was transferring to CIA, the “dark side.”

  When she walked my way with two colleagues, I glanced at my phone and timed the approach so I would casually look up at the right time.

  “Anna?” I said with feigned surprise.

  “Colonel Reed,” she said, pleasantly surprised, without a smidgen of guilt or regret.

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” she said to her friends and greeted me with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “I heard you might be working here.”

  “Do you have a minute?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she said and gestured to the cafeteria, where we approached the coffee kiosk and ordered a black coffee and a latte.

  “It’s good to see you,” she said as the barista got busy. “First day?”

  “I got a job offer today,” I said. “I like the money in the private sector, but I’ll probably take the teaching position at West Point.”

  The barista set the two coffees on the counter. I reached for my wallet.

  “It’s free,” Anna whispered, grabbed the latte, and led the way to an open table. I set two dollars in the tip jar and followed her.

  “How long have you been working for Bartfield?” I asked, and regretted my tone.

  “Colonel Reed,” she said and folded her arms, “I’m sorry about how things played out, but we’re both professionals and know it was the only way. Besides, things worked out for you, whether here or at West Point.”

  She was right. It was sentimental of me to judge her role in the operation, including the seduction, as if I wouldn’t have done the same thing to her for national security.

  The best explanation for my response was that I had lingering feelings for her.

  “What do you mean the only way?” I countered, unable to resist.

  She tilted her head, as if I hadn’t received the memo. “My original plan was to work for CIA,” she said. “After the Chinese pitched me, I reported it and agreed to work as a double agent. We knew the Chinese wanted access to the Pentagon computer system, so the plan was to give me access to the most sensitive programs. I was supposed to do what you did.”

  I nodded. “And then?”

  “And then?” she said, yet more confident I hadn’t received the memo. “We found out the Chinese were using the polygraph to vet their sources, so they gave me a secret clearance to limit my access while we steered the operation toward you.” She sipped her latte. “They told me you had special training or something to defeat the polygraph.”

  I could only smile when I realized she had no idea that I hadn’t received the memo. They told her I could beat the polygraph because I had special training, but the truth was I was actually betraying my country. I opted to not disabuse her of her interpretation. “I overheard your farewell event. Sounds like you were involved in the software for the Chinese cyber operation and the cloud program at the Pentagon, which was just approved by Congress.”

  She nodded and sipped her latte.

  “I hear the cloud program finally received emergency funding after China’s last cyberattack, which we facilitated.”

  Anna looked around, losing patience with my moralism. “Look, Colonel Reed, I wasn’t briefed on all the details, so there’s no need to resort to conspiracy theories. Our counterattack on the China cyber program will justify everything we’ve done.”

  “It’s not a conspiracy theory,” I said, convinced that playing the conspiracy theory card should be added to the list of informal logical fallacies. “We gave the Chinese access to our computer systems. You and I saw this firsthand.”

  She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “Colonel Reed, the old system was a complete disaster, trust me. It was being hacked from all directions, not only by China. Congress was unwilling to fix the problem because there were too many special interests holding up the funding. We might have sacrificed something in the process, but we’re in a better position now to stop future hacks and destroy the Chinese cyber program, all because of Mr. Bartfield.”

  I had to admit she was right. “We have a lot to be proud of. Hey, good luck at CIA.”

  The last comment appeased her. I gave her a kiss on the cheek as we embraced. I had no idea what she felt for me, but I avoided saying anything stupid.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Anyone with experience in running military operations knows that after months of planning and practice, there’s a magical moment when everything comes alive.

  Soldiers who on the first day struggle to follow instructions, like musicians reading sheet music for the first time, mysteriously transform into a symphony and play with intuition and muscle memory, no longer thinking about the individual notes. The music takes on a life of its own. The soldiers are there for the ride, ready to be replaced if necessary.

  Such was the case with the plan to launch the cyberattack on China, which was run out of Cyber Command headquarters. I’m not a computer technician and don’t understand t
he nuts and bolts, but they looked like members of an elite orchestra tuning instruments as they turned on their computers, initiated the computer programs, and connected to VPNs in a conference room set aside for the operation. A somber yet optimistic air filled the room.

  Few spoke, but each player knew his or her role. In my combat experience, this time was usually spent loading weapons and conducting radio checks, but the fine soldiers in this room were about to put lead on the enemy in a way that I could only admire.

  The good news was the Chinese took the bait. After the second Trojan horse was loaded onto their computers, the two programs linked up and generated an additional code completely undetected, which worked its way through as many computer systems as possible in the Chinese government, limited only by the types of security measures and firewalls the Chinese had installed. According to our technicians, they were pleased with the results, which poured in steadily.

  My understanding was that a few important computer systems would be hit as a proportional response for the mainstream media to report, thus leaving the door open for future attacks if the need should arise. In addition, our ongoing ability to monitor their activities would result in intelligence collection for the foreseeable future. We would also launch precision attacks on the cyber units hidden around China, which wouldn’t be reported in mainstream media. We knew they would establish new cyber units, but this operation would make them think twice about attacking us, also initiating an internal witch-hunt that would point to Jade Envy. After all, he had recruited the source, yours truly, who had provided the Trojan horses.