EXFIL Anthony Patton (short novels in english .TXT) 📖

“Are you sure he didn’t report this up his chain of command?” Nguyen asked. “And are you sure he isn’t a double agent who will now provide us disinformation?”

Within the Intelligence Community, FBI had the lead for counterespionage investigations, but the average special agent didn’t have enough training or experience in traditional HUMINT to speak authoritatively on these cases. Nguyen was asking all the right questions that would be asked of any case, but no one could provide a definitive answer until we had time to assess the quality of the information Chen would provide us over time. “Nothing is one hundred percent in this business, but Captain Howard is good. He’ll produce the intelligence,” I stated.

“And if he doesn’t?” Nguyen asked.

“He will,” I said. “And if this overseas case ever transfers stateside, we’ll be sure to query the FBI for advice—I promise.”

Brett resisted a smile and sipped his coffee.

“Roger that, Colonel. We’ll see how things play out. We normally like to see more skin before we drop trou, but here we are.”

Brett donned his reading glasses, glanced at a photograph, and slid it across the table to me. “You probably heard that our old pal Lieutenant Colonel Li got reassigned to D.C.”

“Captain Chen works for him,” Nguyen said, as if I didn’t know this about my own operation. “He runs China’s most sophisticated cyber operations around the world. Our main concern is that his arrival in D.C. suggests he’s running a high-level penetration of our government or is planning more cyberattacks.”

I slid the photograph back, perplexed as to why Nguyen was intent on educating me on Lieutenant Colonel Li. “We’re claiming primacy on this one. And by ‘we’, I mean yours truly.”

They looked at each other, not convinced.

“Look, he’s a military officer,” I added and focused on Brett, hoping to keep the discussion between HUMINT professionals, but prepared to take it to the next level if necessary. “The most natural approach would come from a fellow military officer.”

Brett smirked and gestured to Nguyen.

“Why are you looking at me? We’re on FBI’s turf. Adam’s running the show.”

The meeting venue now made sense. A Memorandum of Understanding between CIA and FBI delineated their responsibilities while overseas and inside the United States, with nary a mention of their military brethren. Brett had no desire to let Nguyen or FBI run the show, and probably used his charm and skills of manipulation to make FBI believe they were in charge.

“Li will see a civilian coming a mile away,” I said. “Not to mention, he knows me.”

Brett and Nguyen leaned closer to confer.

Brett’s body language suggested he agreed with me, but Nguyen seemed more skeptical. The way the discussion was playing out, I was beginning to think that FBI, not CIA, had opposed my coercive pitch of Chen, for reasons that were not yet clear. Finally, Nguyen turned to me.

“We identified someone to make the approach,” he said, “someone with extensive cybersecurity experience and,” he paused with a cautious glance to Brett, “someone who is certified in clandestine operations—a case officer. No disrespect, Colonel Reed, but we don’t believe a military attaché is the best option for this operation.”

And there you have it—the reason they didn’t support the coercive pitch.

I’d worked overseas for ten years cultivating sources and writing intelligence reports, just like every other Intelligence Officer, but I didn’t have the CIA stamp of approval from “The Farm,” so I wasn’t a member of the club. I had talked shop with Brett and other CIA officers over the years and was confident that I could employ the tools of the trade.

Brett slid an invitation with a Chinese flag across the table, all but asking me to take the lead.

“Look,” I said to Nguyen, testing the waters, “no disrespect, right back at you, but if you’re still upset about the operation in Bangkok…”

“We’re not upset. U.S. intelligence hasn’t had contact with Lieutenant Colonel Li since you and Brett met him ten years ago, in Islamabad. We have no doubt that you could make contact and get things moving in the right direction, but we need a seasoned officer with clandestine operations experience to do this right.”

As far as I was concerned, Brett’s silence was license for me to ignore Nguyen.

I folded the invitation, slid it into my inside coat pocket, and walked to the door. “I’ll tell you what, Supervisory Special Agent Nguyen, your officer and I will both make contact with Lieutenant Colonel Li tonight at the event. Whoever gets a second meeting will take the lead.”

I closed the door and looked back through the glass to see Brett lean back in his seat and give me a cheerful wink.

SIX

National day diplomatic receptions were ideal venues for ambitious Intelligence Officers seeking new business. The salons were filled with potential sources, liquored up and eager to talk.

Many Intelligence Officers wasted many a night trolling these events in search of the next great source, but the case studies of successes meant they shouldn’t be missed, using them at a minimum to hone our skills and expand our network.

Although it might set off alarm bells for me to call someone from a hostile embassy to request a meeting, a chance encounter during one of these soirees would increase the odds of arranging a second meeting to cultivate the relationship.

It was a common mistake to engage too many potential sources or agree to meet too many after the event, which ate up your most precious resource: time.

Another mistake was being on display, a veritable social butterfly, which many would-be sources found off-putting.

The professional Intelligence Officer took the necessary time to survey the scene, sift through the noise, activate his honed sense of intuition to identify the real players, and discreetly do the diplomatic waltz until the right contact was made. The would-be source would often know what was happening and would appreciate the discretion, even if he had no intention of spying. If you hear the Jaws shark