EXFIL by Anthony Patton (best book reader txt) 📕

Jewel was more difficult than I imagined, but I never loved her the same way a husband loved a wife. She seemed pleased that I would be with my family again.

Her career as a nurse would begin soon and my career was in the final chapters.

I was her friend, mentor, and lover, and my only hope was that I had given her enough financial resources and adult advice to help her transition to living a more satisfying life.

I realize that this relationship might sound peculiar to many people but there was something natural about it that I find difficult to explain.

My arrival in D.C. was uneventful. I reserved a hotel room in Crystal City to have Metro access to the Pentagon, and a rental car for the commute to Cyber Command. The first stop was Cyber Command to check in with Lewis. For federal employees, military or civilian, who were accustomed to the financial benefits of living overseas, moving to D.C. was a shock to the wallet, but the per diem status paid the bills. The other shock most people faced was returning to the U.S. with some semblance of law and order, such as drivers obeying the traffic laws.

For people who had grown accustomed to having a few drinks before driving home or rolling through red lights and stop signs, this was more difficult than it sounds.

I opted to wear my Class A uniform on my first day, both for appearance’s sake and to allow my return home to sink in. As much as I enjoyed working overseas and wearing civilian clothes, there was something comforting about returning to the fold. In fact, knowing that I could always return to the Army gave me the courage to push the envelope whenever I was on the tip of the spear. After a few days of acclimating and taking care of administrative issues, I was surprised by how quickly Bangkok was becoming a distant memory.

I returned to a pre-Jewel mindset that future unfaithfulness was out of the question. I had hit the reset button—repentance light, without all the fuss.

At the entrance of Cyber Command, I presented a copy of my orders and military ID—the Common Access Card aka CAC. The sergeant verified my name and security clearance in the computer and handed me a temporary badge, explaining that I could pick up a permanent one in the afternoon. The polished marble floors and modern architecture made me think for a fleeting moment that I was entering the lobby of some high-tech company.

I entered the 24-hour operations floor before my appointment with Lewis.

I had hoped to be blown away, but the exaggerated portrayal of such operations floors in the movies and television, with databases manipulated with dramatic hand gestures and live access to security camera feeds around the world, meant it failed to live up to expectations.

This room was filled with officers and enlisted soldiers from all the services, busily clicking away at their computers. The walls were covered with TVs showing the major cable news networks and diagrams of critical infrastructure nodes and networks.

All the lights were green—a good sign, no doubt. To my pleasant surprise, one of my West Point classmates, Brigadier General Schmidt, was talking on the phone and reviewing a document through a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses. The balding spot in his raven black hair had expanded noticeably, as had his gut, no doubt the result of spending the last few years maneuvering the halls of the Pentagon. He finished his call and waved me over.

My first inclination was to hug him with back slaps, like old times, but that would be inappropriate. A smile and a firm handshake would have to do.

“Brigadier General Schmidt, congratulations,” I said.

“If you knew how many asses I had to kiss and how many cups of coffee I had to pour to earn these stars, you’d lose all respect for me,” he said.

“I can’t believe they passed me over last year,” I said, hoping for some sympathy. After all, while he was busy shuffling papers in the Pentagon, I was overseas collecting intelligence. “Fingers crossed for this year.”

He offered a smile. “Trust me, if I could work gigs like Bangkok or teaching at West Point, I’d happily give up these stars.”

If he knew about the teaching gig at West Point, he also knew I was being considered for promotion to brigadier general, which suggested he was skeptical of my chances, judging by his tone. The best officers I knew could at least fake it, and his comment about the teaching gig seemed to question my sanity. I gestured to my watch.

“Give my regards to Beth,” he said.

I knocked on Lewis’s door and peeked inside to see him on the phone.

He waved me in. We each had been promoted a couple of times since I’d served under him in Iraq. Yet he still looked the same, with his coiffed mane of white hair that pushed the limits of Army regulations. As I waited and half-ignored what was being discussed on the phone, I admired a sculpture of a man and his two sons being attacked by serpents. I had no idea what they had done to deserve such a fate, but the father’s look of horror was preserved for eternity in the marble.

I was captivated and hardly noticed when the call ended.

“The Laocoön,” he said. “Do you know the story?”

I stood. We shook hands. “No, General.”

“Laocoön was a priest during the Trojan War,” he said. “The gods sent serpents to kill him and his two sons, as the story goes, for acts of sexual impiety. He’s most famous for warning the Trojans about the famous wooden horse of the Greeks.”

He gestured to the couch and we sat. “As you can imagine,” he continued, “the idea of a Trojan horse has a new level of significance here at Cyber Command.”

“That’s a fascinating story, General,” I said to keep it professional. “I’m excited to hear about my duties here at Cyber Command.”

“You’re heading up