Page 88 of Out of Control

“Okay. Yes. I am Aziz.”

“Thanks for meeting me. I didn’t know who to give Fayez’s laptop to.”

“Where did you find it?”

“I told you. Found it in his apartment after the fire. I was poking around in the debris. Looked like Fayez had some sort of secret closet or something. Must have been sealed tight, because the stuff inside it wasn’t as fried as the rest of his place. That’s where I found it.”

Aziz hesitated perhaps a tenth of a second too long before replying. “Ahh. Very good.”

Sonofabitch.The guy was wired up. That pause had been whoever was on the other end of Aziz’s earpiece telling him the story checked out.

And there was no way he could convey that information to Spencer without giving away that he was also wired.

“Here’s the laptop.” He moved slowly, making no sudden moves that would alarm Aziz or whoever else was out here. He lifted the flap of his satchel, reached past the pistol, and pulled the laptop out.

“I took the liberty of cleaning it up a bit,” he said.

Aziz stiffened.

Worried about him having seen what was on the hard drive, was he? “I wiped off the soot and used a can of compressed air to blow the ash out of the keyboard. It was pretty dirty. The battery is dead, or maybe melted, so I couldn’t tell if it still works. But Fayez can probably have the hard drive removed and recover any information on it. Maybe get pictures off it. Emails, that sort of stuff.”

Another slightly too long pause. “Yes. Of course.”

“You will see to it he gets this back right away?”

“Yes, yes.”

Bull.Aziz knew Khoury was dead. Which meant the bastard was working for Hamza.

He held out the laptop, and Aziz reached for it.

Without warning, something brushed over Drago’s right shoulder. Simultaneously, a shot rang out, and a black circle appeared in the center of Aziz’s forehead. For an instant a look of surprise entered the man’s eyes. And then his legs collapsed and he fell over backward.

Before Aziz had even hit the ground, Drago leaped right and took off sprinting for the nearest building, running in a zigzag pattern to make himself a difficult target.

Lights came on all around the courtyard just as he dove for the cover of the brick factory. He rolled, came up on his feet, and kept running down a short, now well-illuminated alley. A shot rang out behind him, and the light shining toward the alley went black. Two more quick shots, and the square went dark behind him.

God bless Spencer.

He put on a burst of speed and reached the end of the alley, but pulled up short at the end, yanking out his pistol and pausing to check for movement beyond. He scanned the parking lot carefully. Nothing.

Crouching, he eased forward low and slow.

Quietly, he opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, slouching so as not to create a silhouette. He counted to ten before the passenger door opened without warning.

He whipped his pistol toward the intruder but raised it to the roof as Spencer crawled into the seat and uttered a single terse word. “Go.”

Drago reached for the ignition, but instinct stopped him. In cases like this, he always listened to his gut. Now was not the moment to make noise, nor to flee. They’d missed something—something important—that had to be taken care of first.

He bit out, “What happened?”

“Shooter. Inside one of the buildings.”

“I felt the shot pass over my shoulder. It came from behind me.”

Spencer nodded. “The shooter must have known where Aziz was going to approach from, because he had the perfect angle to put that bullet in the guy’s face.”

“Who wants Aziz dead?”

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