Page 5 of Out of Control
The terse order in his ear startled him. “What?”
“The brass thinks you’ve seen enough. They want you out of there. A drone’s coming on scene and will take over.”
What drone?Why hadn’t he been briefed on that? Of course he knew the answer. The US military got off on keeping secrets from everyone, including the very intelligence agencies that fed them most of what they knew. Assholes.
“Keep it high or over the horizon,” he muttered. “There are spotters watching the sky.”
“Roger. Will relay.”
“This place is crawling with civilians. I have visual on a dozen kids and nearly that many local adults.”
“You’ve got to go. You’re already in trouble after the—” Charles bit off whatever he’d been about to say.
“After the what?” Drago asked sharply. He curbed the volume of his whisper hard. Last thing he needed to do was give away his vulnerable, cover-challenged position.
“Nothing,” Charles answered quickly. Too quickly. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Don’t hold out on me now, man. We’ve been through too much together.”
Charles barely breathed the words, as if afraid of being overheard on his end. “The brothel incident.”
If Drago hadn’t been stretched out in front of several dozen armed bodyguards and some of the world’s most violent men, protected only by a camouflage cloth, he’d have reared back hard in surprise. The agency knew about Berlin? How in the hell had they found out he’d been there?
“What does the office know about that?” he demanded.
“I can’t say,” Charles answered. At least he had the good grace to sound stressed.
Just how compromisedwashe?
Goddamnit. If he was already under a CIA microscope, his every move being watched, he couldn’t very well take out Kurbaj now. The CIA would find out he’d made an unsanctioned hit and surely come after him.
Except what choice did he have? It was the only way to make things right. He just had to get to the end of his plan. Only then would the CIA understand and forgive. But if he stopped in the middle… he was screwed.
Darkness fell fast out here, and in a matter of minutes, the sky darkened to navy, then black. The first stars winked into sight, and the kids went back inside. As the wind died, deep silence fell around him. In the absence of an insect population in this desiccated land, no noise broke the profound quiet.
His mind raced. Stay and bag a terrorist in desperate need of killing, or leave and cover his own ass, but have to wait for another day? Another place. God. All the painstaking months—hell,years—of intel work he’d done to arrive at this moment. All for nothing.
Hecouldn’twalk away from a shot at Kurbaj.
But the cost, both personal and professional….
Screw the cost. He’d take the hit—
His mental back-and-forth stopped abruptly as he spotted a faint movement that didn’t belong in the place before him. A shadow slipped around a corner, disappearing into an even darker shadow.
Had he even seen that?
He studied the tableau before him intensely.
It took a few minutes, but there it was again. What the hell?
It was a man. A soldier, based on the utility belt, helmet, and NODs—night optical devices. He was slipping furtively from vehicle to vehicle, planting something on the underside of each.
What the fuck?
Who was that? The Special Forces operator—for who else would be skulking around down there—moved like a freaking American. Every nation’s spec ops teams had their own rhythms and techniques, and they were as distinctive as the gear they each carried.
“Chaz, we got any US military in the area?”
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