Page 89 of Out of Control

“Maybe whoever wants that computer?” A pause, then Spencer added, “We have to go back.”

Drago’s gut agreed, but his brain had yet to connect the dots. “Why do you say that?”

“From my angle, it looked exactly like you shot Aziz. What if somebody was filming that?”

“Why would somebody set me up—” He broke off. “It’s a long shot.”

“All it would take is a couple of cameras strategically placed to record the shooting. Your rendition would become a kill-on-sight order.”

Drago’s mind raced. What were the odds Spencer was right? Who in the hell was setting him up like this? And why?

Only one name came to mind.

Jabril Hamza.

Had he gotten closer to killing the terrorist than he knew? In Berlin, or maybe out in the desert?

He and Spencer got out of the car, moving fast and quiet, in perfect sync with each other. Spencer took the lead, and Drago flowed along behind him, checking their six and clearing over Spencer’s shoulder. This kind of work was what SEALs excelled at. Night operations. Stealth. Explosive violence.

Spencer paralleled the nearest building and ran down another alley, catlike in his silence. Drago followed more slowly, going as fast as he could while matching Spencer’s silence. He caught up with Spencer just as he slipped around the corner.

Drago did the same and paused, getting his bearings quickly. They were beyond where the shooting had happened, looking through the spot where Aziz would have been standing, toward where Drago had met him. A camera placed here would have had a great view of his face but not have captured a shot of what was in his hand as he held out the laptop to Aziz.

Spencer stopped ahead of him, staring upward.

He looked up too, and his jaw dropped as he spotted a video camera mounted overhead. Spencer gestured for him to move close and give him a boost. He nodded and bent his thigh for Spencer to climb on. The guy was not light, but Drago was not a weak man either. Spencer’s boot tread hurt his shoulder, but he gritted his teeth as Spencer quickly reached for the camera and tore it loose.

Spencer climbed down and continued on around the perimeter of the square.

They repeated the process on the other side, retrieving a second camera mounted at a similar angle to capture his face but to obscure whether a gunshot had come from Drago’s hand or somewhere else.

Oh, this was definitely a setup. Someone wanted to frame him for this kill.

He was vividly aware of Aziz’s body lying flat on the ground not far away. A pang of regret passed through him that the man had died so someone else could frame him. He reminded himself that this was what happened, though, when men like Aziz dabbled in terrorism.

Spencer turned to head back toward the car, but Drago reached forward and tapped Spencer’s shoulder. “Laptop,” he breathed in Spencer’s ear.

Spencer nodded and knelt, taking up a shooter’s stance. Using the rifle sight, he scanned the entire area, then murmured, “Go.”

Right. Spencer would do overwatch duty while he ran out and grabbed the laptop. Drago took off running, zigzagging again, just in case they weren’t alone. He reached Aziz’s body, which lay in a black pool of blood.

No surprise, there was no sign of the laptop. He searched briefly beneath the guy. Nada. The shooter had already been here and grabbed the computer.

Sirens became audible in the distance.

This wassoa setup.

He took off running, taking the most direct route back toward the car. This time when Spencer joined him in the vehicle, he pulled out of the parking lot fast, but careful not to lay down rubber skid marks that could be tracked. Those sirens were getting damned loud.

He headed away from the noise of the approaching police for several blocks, then turned at a right angle and slowed to normal driving speed. If there were drones or helicopters overhead, he didn’t want to draw any undue attention.

“Ditch the car?” Spencer murmured.

“We’ve got to return it now. No way can we completely sanitize the interior for DNA evidence. The only option is to put it back where we got it so the police never know to examine it.”

He turned a few more corners and arrived at the place where they’d stolen the vehicle. Its parking space was still empty. Perfect. He parked the car and they got out, quickly moving away from the vehicle.

“Wipe your face,” he murmured to Spencer, passing him a package of wet wipes. It took most of the package to get the black camo grease off Spencer’s face, but the man he knew and loved eventually emerged from underneath the paint.

---