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“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 f
or 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.”
