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

At the last possible moment, I moved to the left-turn lane, which had a red light, as the Crown Victoria continued driving straight through the green.

This brought only limited relief, though, because I was astutely aware there could be other cars behind him to rotate the eye and move in behind me. Sure enough, another sedan pulled up behind me, driven by another young man with a buzz cut. If this had been a left turn to enter a shopping mall, they would have let me go, but it was for a major cross street with miles of driving ahead, so they had to send someone to follow me and prepare to rotate the eye again.

My training kicked into high gear as I parked.

I felt my pulse racing as I walked to the coffee shop—not too fast, not too slow, not looking around too much, not walking with blinders. I held the front door open for two teenage girls, allowing me to see the surveillance vehicle park on the far end of the lot.

I ordered a black coffee, confirmed that the location function on my phone was off, and glanced at the surveillance vehicle in time to see the driver talking into his wrist. The first surveillance vehicle circled back and parked in the strip mall on the other side of the road.

Anyone could be trained to detect surveillance, but it took a professional Intelligence Officer to give no indication that you were aware of them once spotted. If I’d been in serious legal trouble, they would have sent the FBI to arrest me. However, the fact that they had put me under surveillance suggested they wanted to see where I was going, to confirm or deny their suspicions or to catch me in the act. When my coffee was ready, I grabbed it and returned to my car.

The most logical thing to do at this point was to drive to my hotel and call it a day.

I knew I was being watched, so there was nothing to be gained by continuing the chase. So, I got on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway for the return trip to Crystal City. Both surveillance vehicles followed me, but to my surprise, neither pursued me all the way onto the ramp.

Given the lack of options for running parallel with me, this suggested they were breaking off, either to avoid being detected or because they had other ways of tracking me, such as a drone or license plate readers along the road. With no tail to worry about, I returned to my world of betrayal, hurtling toward the end of my career. With any luck, the surveillance had been routine to detect any suspicious behavior on my part. Then again, they didn’t put the A team on me—two guys with buzz cuts and matching vehicles—so they had to know I might detect them.

Either way, as I approached D.C., I was running low on gas and exited to fill up.

To avoid an electronic footprint, I parked at the pump and entered to pre-pay with cash. The cashier behind the counter and a customer were mesmerized by the live news about the cyberattack, and stood watching the wall-mounted TV. The news ticker was reporting that U.S. forces were on high alert, showing stock footage of U.S. warplanes flying and Chinese military personnel working on computers.

“Twenty on pump four,” I said and set a twenty on the counter, which the cashier grabbed with a wave, still focused on the TV.

Outside, I pumped the gas and watched the cars zip by with my peripheral vision—no Crown Victoria or dudes with buzz cuts. Back in the car, I checked my phone for messages, and noticed something that sent a shudder down my spine: the location symbol was glowing, even though I was absolutely sure I’d turned it off in the coffee shop. The magnitude of this discovery couldn’t be overstated.

Getting approval to hack into my phone would have required a judicial warrant, which would happen only if they had probable cause of a crime, which—of course—meant the FBI must have become involved. I crossed the Potomac River and headed south on Highway 1 to my hotel in Crystal City. As I approached the traffic light where I would normally turn right, I slowed and continued through the green light, feigning an error. I hoped this would trigger a response, but if they were tracking me on my phone, they would have no reason to reveal themselves.

I powered down my phone to cut them off, continuing down Highway 1.

When I arrived at a traffic light in the heart of Alexandria, I noticed one, two, and finally three possible suspects line up behind me. When all three vehicles pulled in close to make the last traffic light before taking the on-ramp for I-495, I knew I was back under surveillance. With my phone turned off, however, they would have to follow me closely to avoid losing me.

The fact that I didn’t go to my hotel should have indicated that I was aware of them and was now taking active measures to avoid them, which would confirm their suspicions.

In any case, I knew the whole thing would soon come to an ignominious end, but I needed time to gather my thoughts and speak with Beth before the story leaked.

We drove along I-495 loop for several miles, heading clockwise toward Tysons Corner.

I moved to the exit for I-66 west, and all three vehicles followed. They weren’t even trying to be discreet, and surely wondered what I had in mind as the boring pursuit continued. I turned on the radio to get the latest news as I took the exit for Highway 50 in Fairfax, now driving on instinct. As we continued, I allowed my random decision to become a stroke of genius: knowing that the traffic lights were timed for someone driving the speed limit, I slowed to just below the speed limit, getting closer to missing each traffic