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

I had an uncanny ability to put people at ease and make them feel comfortable discussing sensitive information that they might not otherwise reveal. I sometimes felt like the odd one out, but Beth said the others enjoyed my company and said I had “the gift.” She couldn’t explain it, but I think I know what she meant.

During one of our dinner parties, I spoke with a visitor and learned that he was working at the DIA Directorate for Operations to reform the training courses to certify DIA personnel in HUMINT collection, including the Defense Debriefing Service, the overt collectors; the Defense Attaché System, the military attachés; and the Defense Clandestine Service, the traditional spies who lived in their own secret world. He said the DIA couldn’t rely on CIA to satisfy all of our collection requirements, and that we would have to train and deploy our own collectors.

I don’t know if he had been sent to meet me specifically, but he said DIA could use someone like me, that there were opportunities for aspiring military attachés. I wasn’t disappointed at the time, but did later wonder why they hadn’t considered me for clandestine collection.

The more I learned about the world of intelligence, the more I knew I wanted in. As was the case with Special Forces, I was advised that the military attaché track wasn’t the best path to attain the rank of general, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, I no longer cared. Just thinking about this move resonated with me at a deep level. Best of all, Beth supported me and understood that it would involve extended training away from home to learn the new craft.

Like most initiates, I had to overcome many preconceptions about the craft of HUMINT as it was portrayed in movies or books. We weren’t issued shoe phones or sports cars with gadgets, and we would never require a license to kill to accomplish the mission. The learning curve was steep, but as my muscle memory quickly developed and my synapses got rewired, it was clear that I was manifesting a natural talent. Unlike many students, I could adjust my personality like a chameleon to collect intelligence, most of which was ripe for the taking. I learned to walk the fine line of building a genuine friendship and collecting intelligence, without appearing manipulative. Most people like to talk.

Just as learning a foreign language expands our grasp of English to help us better understand why we say what we say or why the subjunctive matters, the intelligence business helps us better understand why we think and act the way we do, which frees us from our own personality quirks and bad habits. For example, once men realize that much of what we do in life is instinctively directed toward replicating our DNA, we are free to step off the dance floor to focus our efforts on pursuing other objectives. This is why marriage was one of the secrets of success in the intelligence business. Single dudes gave out the wrong vibe. Plus, the presence of a beautiful woman like Beth put people at ease and stirred the conversation in interesting ways.

After graduating, I was assigned as the Assistant Army Attaché at the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad, Pakistan. I arranged an administrative job for Beth, but by this time we had Andrew and Troy, and we didn’t like the idea of leaving the boys at home with a stranger from an Islamic country, so she took a break from her career. Another motivating factor for her decision, in my humble opinion, was the prestige of a diplomatic career.

Unlike our security assistance colleagues, the military attachés were the wining-and-dining diplomats for the Department of Defense—diplomatic passports and all.

While our security assistance brethren executed training exercises in the frigid Himalayan Mountains of Kashmir or promoted the sale of U.S. weapon systems, we endured no such hardships. Instead, we attended diplomatic functions in five-star hotels with hors d’oeuvres and alcoholic or non-alcoholic beverages, depending on which country was hosting.

The Muslim diplomats often served fruit juice to impress other Muslims—the Pakistanis were especially proud of their selection of mangoes—while drinking alcohol in private.

Although Beth wasn’t on the payroll, everyone recognized her as my better half. She did a stellar job of facilitating my work by putting other wives at ease or eliciting tidbits about their husbands that I could use to my advantage. This exciting work brought us closer together, and it was no secret in the office that she gave me a competitive advantage.

During one of the many diplomatic functions we attended in Islamabad—I don’t recall what we were celebrating—Beth and I were making the rounds and small talk with the other military attaché couples we had grown accustomed to seeing, sometimes two or three times a week.

I always kept my eyes open for new blood. We focused our attention on foreign military officers, but struck up conversations with civilians or anyone willing to talk, for that matter. This often turned into a game of hustling to be the first person to bump the new guy.

The event was on track for the circular file, but the arrival of a young Chinese PLA captain forever changed my life. While scanning the crowd, Beth squeezed my hand with a gentle tug.

After a casual turn of my head and a few seconds to focus, Captain Li came into view.

At the time, I was a major and didn’t see any of the other sharks circling the new prey.

Beth and I did the diplomatic double-time and adjusted our arrival to coincide with his accepting a glass of deep red wine from a passing waiter.

The chemistry between us never ignited, though, and he was unwilling to meet informally outside the diplomatic circuit. I had learned to be a chameleon, but you can’t fake chemistry forever, so the best way to initiate a lasting relationship was to base it on something natural and mutual. I understood that the Chinese often didn’t respond predictably to a