EXFIL by Anthony Patton (best book reader txt) 📕

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