Vince Flynn - The Third Option

Kennedy was surprised, but she didn't show it. Rapp had said nothing about sending Liz O'Rourke an e-mail, but it was obvious by me congressman's tone mat he wasn't making it up. Even with this new information, Kennedy was not inclined to tell O'Rourke anything about Rapp. As far as she was concerned, Rapp, his identity, and what he had done for the CIA were the Holy Grail of secrets.

«Michael, all I can tell you is that your secret is safe with me.»

«The hell it is,» replied O'Rourke with a bit of an edge to his voice. «How did Mitch Rapp find out about it, then?»

«I can look into that if you'd like.»

«Come on, Irene.» O'Rourke was mad. «You can better than that, and if you can't, you're not going to like my next move.»

«And what would that be?»

«I'll call my contacts at me FBI, the NSA, and Pentagon, and I'll have them do a little digging. I'll call your deputy director of Admin and have him rattle some cages. Hell, I might even call a very unconventional asset Israel and ask him to see what he can come up with.»

Kennedy didn't like me sound of any of this. The thing she needed right now was to draw an ounce more attention to Rapp and possibly herself. She carefully considered how much to reveal and then said, «The only thing I can tell you about me person in question is that he is extremely good at what he does, and he's on our side.»

«That's not good enough.»

«I'm afraid it's going to have to be.»

«No, it isn't.» O'Rourke leaned forward. «I want to know how in the hell he knows about Seamus, Scott, and myself.»

Kennedy eyed him coolly, and after a long moment of thoughtful calculation, she told him the truth. «I told him.»

It took Gus Villaume less than two hours to decide on a course of action. Despite Mario's death, he felt almost himself again. There was a chance that Iron Man was working for the Professor, but Villaume doubted it. The assassin he had seen operate in Paris could not tolerate a man as amateurish as the Professor. No, Villaume had decided, Iron Man wanted the Professor as much or even more than he did.

And what sweet justice it would be to point Iron Man in the direction of that phony, smug double-crosser. If the man was as connected as he liked to claim, he would wet himself when he found out that Iron Man was onto him.

Villaume caught the city bus on New York Avenue and 11th Street near the convention center and found a seat near the back. He counted seven other riders. Rush hour wouldn't start for another hour. When the bus started moving, Villaume punched in the number. After three rings, a deep voice said hello.

«Iron Man?»

«Yes.»

«Do you have something to write with?»

«Yes.»

Villaume hunched over and spoke in a soft tone. «The man's called the Professor. He's about five eleven, and I'd guess he weighs around two thirty. Hazel eyes, black hair and beard… probably around fifty, give or take a couple of years. I'd guess from his accent that he grew up around D.C. Probably on the Virginia side but definitely not as far south as Richmond.»

«What else?»

«I've got a number.» Villaume gave Rapp the number he used to contact the Professor.

«Anything else?»

Villaume thought about it for a second. «Up until Colorado, I would have guessed that he had never got his hands dirty before, but he insisted on taking them out himself.»

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end. «From how far?»

«About two hundred meters. He had a really unique piece of hardware.»

«What was it?»

Villaume looked up. No one was paying any attention to him. «A Stoner SR-25.»

«Anything else?»

«Unfortunately, no.»

«Come on. You can do better than this!»

«I'm sorry, but it's all I've got for you. Believe me, I wish I knew more.»

«How am I going to get hold of you?»

«You aren't going to.»

«Come on, Gus, I need your help.»

«I'm sorry, but I need to disappear for a while.»

«You can trust me. We both want the same thing now.» Rapp was pleading.

«That's the problem with this job, my friend. Everybody tells you to trust them right up to the moment they put a bullet in your head.»

There was a long period of silence while Rapp thought of the position Villaume was in. He knew if he were in his shoes, he would run. He would trust no one, and he would live to fight another day. Finally, he said, «Gus, I understand. You take care of yourself, and call me if you think of anything else.»

«I will. And good luck. I hope you get him.» Villaume turned off his phone and closed it. As he looked out the window, the bus rumbled over a decaying bridge, the National Arboretum off to the right. He felt like a coward, but he knew he was doing the right thing. If Iron Man was sincere, Villaume had no doubt the Professor would be joining Mario in the afterlife in the not so distant future.

THE OTHER TWO men watched Rapp and waited for him to speak. He left his phone on and set it in the charger stand, then handed Scott Coleman the notepad with the information Villaume had given him. After a second, Rapp looked at Marcus Dumond, who was sitting in front of his desk. The surface was covered with mouses, keyboards, and three computer screens.

«Can you track him the next time he calls?»

«Villaume?»

«Yeah.»

Dumond grimaced. «I don't think so. I can maybe get you in the right area of the city, but that's about it.» Dumond paused and thought of something. «How cautious do you think he is?»

«Right now, I'd say very.»

«Do you think you could keep him on the line for ten minutes?»

Rapp tried to think what in the world he could say to get Villaume to take such a risk. «No way. I'd be lucky to get him to stay on for five.»

«Then I can't track him.»

«Can you at least get me the number he's calling from?»

«That's going to be tough. I'll see what I can do, but I'm not going to make any promises.»

Coleman handed the notepad back to Rapp and said, «It sounds like the guy I saw out in Colorado. What else did Villaume tell you?»

Rapp gave a brief summary of the discussion, making special mention of the fact that the Professor was the man who had taken the shot in Evergreen. While he did so, Dumond looked over the notes and began typing away at one of his keyboards. «This Professor has to have a past,» started Rapp. «You don't just fall into this line of work. He either works in the intelligence community or used to. Marcus, can you take that description and see how many matches you get for current and former Agency people?»

«Yeah, but I'm afraid it's going to be a big number.»

«That's fine. Just pull all the photos so Scott can see if he recognizes anybody. If we come up blank at the Agency, we'll move on to the NSA and from there to the DIA.» While Dumond worked, Rapp thought of something Villaume had said.»If we could get a voice print on this guy, would it help?»

«It might. The NSA keeps some pretty intense files on that stuff.»

Rapp pointed to the number he had written down. «What about getting a line on that?»

Dumond slid his chair over to a second computer and accessed a reverse listing service. He punched in the phone number, and the computer went to work. Five seconds later, it came back with bad news. The number was not in the system.

«What does that mean?» asked Rapp. «Is it a bogus number?»

«No. Not necessarily. The directory is constantly changing. It's impossible to keep up with.»

«So what do we do?»

Dumond leaned back in his chair and chewed on the end of a Bic pen. «It's got to be a mobile number, right?»

«I'd be shocked if it wasn't.» Rapp looked at Coleman. «Scott?»