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“Yes, you have, but I’d like you to consider giving more.”
“No.” Rapp couldn’t look at them anymore. He just wanted them to accept his wishes and move on without him.
“Mitchell, I can understand why you want out. Irene has told me that you plan to ask Ms. Rielly to marry you. I could not have stayed in the field and been a good husband and father. The two do not mix. But we could bring you inside. There is plenty of work for someone with your skills.”
Oh God, Rapp thought to himself. They’re doing it to me. “Sir, you possess many skills that I do not.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Well, it’s true. I could never last at headquarters. I don’t have the patience to put up with all the crap.”
“It’s not as bad as you think, and besides, you’ll adapt. You always have.”
“I don’t want to learn. I’m a field man, sir.”
Stansfield held his hands up in a temporary show of surrender. “We don’t need to discuss this right now. All I ask is that before you make a final decision, you give me a chance to talk to you about a few things.”
Rapp wanted to be firm. He wanted to say no. He desperately wanted to tell them there was no way in hell he would go to work at Langley, but looking at the old man, a man he had idolized for a decade, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell the old spymaster no.
“Will you please promise me that you will give me one last audience? There are things we need to discuss before you make your final decision.”
Slowly, Rapp let out a deep, pained breath and gave in. Stansfield returned Rapp’s acceptance with a rare smile just as Rapp’s phone started to ring. He checked the caller ID and then answered the phone. “What’s up?”
“I think we have him.” It was Scott Coleman.
Rapp looked up, his eyes wide. “Talk to me.”
“His name is Peter Cameron. I’m not positive, but I think it’s him. When we saw him in Colorado, he had a beard, and he didn’t have one in any of the photos we’ve seen.”
“Who is he?”
“He worked for the Agency from ’seventy-four to ’ninety-eight in the Office of Security. He did it all. He administered polygraphs, personal protection, debugging offices, you name it. His last couple of years he ran the show.”
“He watched the watchers.”
“Yep.”
Rapp cringed at the thought of how much information someone in that position had access to. “Where can we find him?”
“He has an apartment in Georgetown.”
“Where?” Coleman gave Rapp the address, and Rapp asked, “How quickly can you guys be there?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“All right. Fax me a photo, and then meet me at the Safeway on Wisconsin. And bring the van and Marcus, and tell Marcus to keep this quiet. I don’t want anyone at Langley to know what we’re up to.”
“I’ll see you in twenty.”
Putting his phone away, Rapp looked at Kennedy and Stansfield. “Scott thinks they might have found the Professor, and you’re not going to like what he did for the last twenty-plus years.”
“What?” asked Kennedy.
“He worked in Langley’s Office of Security.”
“What’s his name?” asked Stansfield.
“Peter Cameron.”
