EXFIL by Anthony Patton (best books to read non fiction TXT) 📗

attack music in the back of your mind during your approach, you’re doing it all wrong.

A professional Intelligence Officer took his craft to the next level by researching who would attend an event and who had the right access to merit his attention. He even found clever ways to ensure that all the right people would get invited. Indeed, many would-be sources never even realized they were entering spider webs specially designed for them.

The amateur Intelligence Officer, by contrast, flailed in the wind and hoped for the best.

As I approached the reception room, I vowed to ignore everyone who might distract me from Lieutenant Colonel Li. When the history books were written, he would be my work of art.

Diplomatic receptions often reflected the host country’s spirit and heritage—the size of the event, the quality of the food and entertainment, and the ambience.

Countries like Mexico and Brazil weren’t G7 material but they threw great parties. Never underestimate the power of mariachi bands and margaritas, or samba dancers and caipirinhas.

For this event, China was pulling out all the stops: a swank salon with red and gold décor and Chinese artwork; waiters with white gloves bearing trays with wine, Scotch, beer, and water; and traditional dancers on stage, with live music. China’s day as a global power had arrived.

Two fit security guards with black ties and maroon blazers accepted invitations from the line of guests and steered them to the welcome line, which included the Chinese ambassador and senior diplomats who shook hands and greeted the guests. I had nothing to gain by enduring such formalities—never lose focus—so I entered the salon, accepted a Scotch on the rocks from a passing waiter, and sauntered to the periphery to blend in and scan the guests. The room was filled with would-be sources, but there was only one with the potential to threaten U.S. national security with devastating cyberattacks. Besides, the room was also filled with other Intelligence Officers from the alphabet soup of U.S. agencies, all hunting their own sources. The only one who concerned me was the mystery man with the CIA stamp of approval—my competition.

Li, as it turned out, was easy to find. He was mingling with a group of military attachés near the food line. “Excuse me,” I said as I passed by and paused with a double take.

“Colonel Reed?” he said and excused himself from the group.

He looked fit in his dark green uniform, taller than the average comrade. His round glasses suggested cyber geek but his chiseled features suggested poet-warrior.

“Lieutenant Colonel Li,” I said and offered a firm handshake as I glanced at his rank insignia, feigning surprise and jogging my memory, “Islamabad, right?”

He had the hands of a concert pianist, with manicured nails.

He seemed surprised and pleased to see me.

“About ten years ago,” he said. “How is Mr. Phelps?”

“Still causing trouble,” I said, getting a more than polite laugh in return. “I returned from our embassy in Bangkok a few days ago.” If Chen had reported his contact with Tom or me, Li would certainly know. If he didn’t, it was a sign that Chen had the potential to be a good long-term source.

He glanced around the room, not revealing any knowledge of my assignment to Bangkok, picking up as though ten years ago was yesterday.

“I hope you enjoyed the many natural beauties of Thailand. Where are you working now?”

“Cyber Command,” I said. “I’m not sure whether you follow this issue closely, but many are calling cyber warfare the wave of the future.” One of the tricks of elicitation was incorrectly raising issues you knew were of interest to a would-be source, in a way he viewed as natural and spontaneous. In this case, he knew I knew about his cyber activities.

“Cyber warfare is the wave of today, Colonel Reed,” he said like a disappointed teacher. “All future empires will rise or fall on cyber power. Is America prepared?”

“Hell if I know,” I said jokingly and gestured to the other side of the room as if someone was waving to me. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Of course,” he said with a respectful bow.

To most outside observers, this exchange wouldn’t raise any eyebrows, which was the point. Li knew his arrival would attract attention. I still couldn’t believe the Chinese government had assigned him to D.C., and our brief encounter wasn’t an accident. Nonetheless, the chat was brief and to the point, to minimize the chances of being observed by other Chinese diplomats and to pique his interest in speaking again before the end of the event.

He knew my goal in meeting him would be to get information about his cyberattacks, so if he were to be agreeable, the dance would begin.

I strode to the open bar near a gaggle of U.S. Army uniforms.

I passed several foreign military officers along the way but resisted a temptation to shake hands or exchange business cards, to maintain focus and avoid drawing too much attention to myself. I had paid my dues over the years, cultivating many good sources, so I had no interest in grabbing random business cards to write satisfactory intelligence reports that would never be read.

I recognized a few of the Army officers and caught up on palace intrigue while keeping an eye on Li. He managed to never look my way when I was looking, and I managed to never look his way when he was looking, but I imagined that he was doing the same thing, to include rehearsing what he would say during our next encounter.

I also knew that my mystery competition was in the room somewhere, but he still hadn’t made his move, at least not as far as I could tell.

“Colonel Reed.”

I turned to see an old friend from the Army War College who was now serving in the Pentagon, Colonel O’Connor, a J6 communications and computer expert who had worked his way up the ranks in a career that allowed the Army to execute its mission on and off the battlefield, without