EXFIL by Anthony Patton (best book reader txt) 📕

to Sullivan. “Can we talk to a judge? We can compel them to give us the security tapes, right?”

“We’re not raising this with a judge,” Sullivan said. “We’re not going to reveal this investigation to the Thai government.”

Sullivan led the way downstairs, where he excused himself to enter the men’s room after hugging one of the dancers.

“Would it be possible to, ah, maybe ask you a few more questions later, after work?” Johnson asked Jewel.

She caught him staring at her cleavage, touched his chin, and handed him a business card. “I have to start my shift, but you can stop by my apartment later.” She squeezed his hand with a perky smile and a wave.

Johnson looked around to ensure there were no witnesses, stuffed the card in his pocket, and stood at attention to hide his grin when Sullivan exited the bathroom.

SEVENTEEN

The more sensational an intelligence report was, the more likely it was to be doubted by so-called experts. Analysts generally liked information that conformed to their conceptual models or the political agendas of the senior policymakers they briefed, so they often resisted or dismissed reports that forced them to reconsider.

This was why credible reporting about the absence of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq was ignored. When a heavy suggested something existed, the Intelligence Community was unleashed to confirm the claim, not deny. Negative reports meant you weren’t yet looking in the right places. The worst analysts used media reporting as a baseline to assess the value or credibility of intelligence reports, or even worse, cited media reports in finished intelligence, knowing full well that journalists writ large were biased or funded to shape the narrative.

Analysts filtered information through their own lenses, often unwilling or unable to see events through the eyes of their enemies, rational or not; this resulted in carefully caveated conclusions that ensured they would never be fired for cause. A “high degree of confidence” still allowed the polar opposite to happen in a disastrous way, however slim the odds might be. It would be chalked up to the unpredictability of world events, not to flaws in the analytical methodology.

Given the nature of this game, Intelligence Officers were careful about reporting anything as definitive. If the gist of a report was that a foreign government official planned to do something and that something didn’t happen, the follow-up report would explain why the foreign government official changed his mind. The analysts would forgive the initial report and move on, but if that something did happen, the report would receive rave reviews.

When a source, a new source no less, provided specific information about a cyberattack against a specific IP address in the Pentagon, on a specific day and with a specific cyber tool, the thrill was offset by the horrifying possibility that the attack wouldn’t occur, which would cast a shadow of doubt over the credibility of the source for the indefinite future.

The Chinese government wouldn’t want us to know in advance about its plans to launch a cyberattack, so if the attack were to occur and we were to stop it, it would go a long way toward confirming that Lieutenant Colonel Li was the real deal.

My return to Cyber Command was met with celebration and fanfare from those who were briefed on the operation, which included a private ceremony with kind words from Lewis. He offered special thanks to Brett, the CIA, Nguyen, and the FBI for working together on this successful joint operation, but he didn’t mince words when he highlighted that a uniformed military Intelligence Officer had pulled the trigger and that the DIA was paying the bills.

I wrote a cable filled with the usual jargon, gratuitous modesty, and cautious optimism about the future of the case to document the success. I also submitted the financial paperwork to start the cash flow for Li, who would now be known as Jade Envy to protect his identity.

The most difficult part of the day was the silence from the Pentagon. I shared the information immediately after the meeting, but we were still awaiting confirmation of it.

My heart pounded each time the phone rang or someone entered the office. Jade Envy didn’t provide a specific time for the attack, which meant an uncomfortable haze hung over what should have been a day of celebration. We planned to meet again soon for a detailed debriefing, during which I could get updates on the cyberattack if it didn’t happen as planned. To my dismay, I found I was already preparing for the worst.

Lewis understood the importance of highlighting intelligence successes with the right players to justify funding for Cyber Command, and therefore scheduled a tour of the Pentagon defensive cybersecurity unit to let them know that intelligence was on the front line of national defense.

Many offices were flooded with intelligence reports, including many technicians who thought these reports fell onto their laps like manna from heaven, so it paid dividends to put a face to a name. The visit was also a good opportunity to ensure that my report arrived at the working level for execution. If the cyber warriors with fingers on keyboards had no idea what we were talking about and the Chinese were to launch a successful attack, Lewis would go through the roof.

As we walked down an aisle during the tour, we discussed my report about the plans by China to use a specific tool against a specific IP address.

“That was awesome,” one of the enlisted cyber warriors said and turned. “Just like you reported. We shut it down!”

Lewis and I double-timed it to the soldier, followed by the confused tour guide.

The jubilant sergeant handed us a printout of a cyber incident report, noting the specific tool that attempted to penetrate a specific IP address, stapled to a copy of my intelligence report with yellow highlighted text.

It was right there for all to see, rubber meets the road, concrete, and beyond the reach of any analysts or so-called experts who would