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

In Beth’s case, she found the right connections to transform her brilliant dissertation into a commercial success. Academic books often originated as doctoral dissertations after being read by a few dozen professors or think tanks. These authors prided themselves on their books being peer-reviewed, but the peers were just as human as the rest of us and couldn’t help but praise their friends and criticize their enemies, all in the attempt to build their own brand.

Beth had the benefit of a top-down marketing plan, which included public events, television appearances, and radio interviews, all in coordination with distribution channels to ensure the supply of books flowed to fill a demand that had been primed.

Books about terrorism were a dime a dozen, but she had used her talent, grit, and connections to make sure she was a voice to be heard for many years to come.

I entered the bookstore, proudly bought a copy of Beth’s book to symbolize her success, and joined her and the boys, who each greeted me with hugs. “Dad!” The boys looked like fine young gentlemen in their white dress shirts and striped ties. I wanted everyone to see that our family was fine—no trouble in paradise—and that we would be together soon. Beth gave me a hug, kissed me on the lips, and introduced me to the players behind the scenes who had made the event possible. West Point and the Army were proud to have one of their own in the spotlight.

I could tell by the turnout that some high rollers were showing their support, including Lieutenant General Lewis.

I showed her the book. “I’m so proud of you, honey,” I said and touched my heart.

“I’m pretty sure I could get you a free copy,” she said as Brett arrived. “Honey, look who made it.”

“Brett and I are working together again,” I said as we shook hands.

Beth touched her chin. “Interesting.”

“We’re chasing an old friend,” Brett said with a suggestive arch of the eyebrows. “It appears that our work together in Pakistan never reached a proper resolution.”

She turned to me with a smile, happy to see me back in my element. I felt an urge to tell her about Tom, but we were interrupted by applause as a man at the podium introduced Beth.

She adjusted the microphone under the spotlight, waving to her admirers with a smile. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched her handle the crowd like a champion.

As we drove to the hotel, everything felt comfortably normal, or at least moving in that direction. We were a happy family again, with Jewel and Anna distant memories, I was sure of it. What did I do to deserve her? Based on what Beth said about life at West Point, it sounded as though teaching would be a fun way to be together and groom the next generation of Army officers, but I knew I couldn’t rest until I did everything in my power to get the brigadier general promotion and stop Li. Beth was on track for a tenured teaching position and no longer had to worry about promotions, so my hope was that I could continue to indulge her patience.

Like in the good old days, the four of us piled onto the bed to huddle together and watch a movie, eating microwave popcorn. We caught the end of Rocky IV, which the boys always enjoyed. The world needed more anti-communist narratives.

We hardly noticed that Beth was drifting off to sleep, waking every few minutes to rub her eyes and snuggle closer to me as I wrapped my arms around her.

As the credits rolled, we opened the foldout bed on the living room sofa.

“Dad,” Andrew asked, “how long will you be here?”

I tossed two pillows onto the bed and unfolded a blanket. “Could be a few months, depending on how things play out.”

Troy laid his clothes on the chair and plopped onto the bed. “Mom’s told people you’ll be teaching next semester.”

I nodded as I locked the door and turned off the lights, leaving the blue glow of the digital clock on the microwave oven the only illumination in the room. “The most important thing is we’ll be together soon.” I hugged them and kissed them on the forehead. “Love you guys so much.”

“Love you, Dad,” they said in unison.

I closed the bedroom door and gently pressed the lock. Leave it to me to think sex might be on the cards, with Beth crashed out and the boys on the other side of the door. I turned off the lights, slid under the sheets, and kissed her on the neck.

“I love you,” I whispered and admired her in silence as I drifted off to sleep.

THIRTEEN

Our hotel breakfast family time, amid a buzz of G-men in business suits maneuvering the food and beverage lines, was interrupted by a call from Brett. I walked to a corner and covered my ear.

“Hey,” Brett said, “any chance you could swing by the FBI this morning?”

An outsider monitoring the call, even someone attuned to verbal subtlety, would conclude that Brett had nothing special to discuss, but I knew him well enough to know that he had important news. Perhaps I was getting the call—an update on the Chen case in the aftermath of Tom’s suicide? As the boys returned with paper plates piled high with waffles, yogurt, plastic-wrapped pastries, and sausage patties, I sat and turned to Beth.

“That was Brett,” I said. “As he said last night, we’re running a cool operation.”

She sipped her coffee. “The Pentagon attacks?”

As the boys devoured their food in silence, I nodded and leaned closer to whisper. “The boys seem to think that I’ll be teaching at West Point next semester.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, touching my hand. “People are asking questions. I had to say something.”

I knew she wasn’t trying to force my hand or sabotage my plans for promotion, but I also wanted her to know that she’d put