Page 73 of Out of Control

The man disappeared through a door at the rear of the store.

“Do you trust this guy?” Spencer asked under his breath.

“Darling man. I don’t trust anyone but you.”

Spencer smiled briefly at him, and his stomach did a flip-flop. God, he had it bad for that guy.

“Is he calling the cops?” Spencer muttered, looking at the storeroom door.

“Nah. He won’t call the cops. He’s illegally breaking into those laptops for us.”

“What about the French intelligence service? Could he be an informant?”

“Maybe. But we haven’t done anything to alarm those guys. And if they run facial rec on us, we’ll pop up as legitimate US government assets.”

“Unless they tie us to last night’s explosion.”

“They’ll call that a gas leak and walk away. The French authorities aren’t going to launch a major intelligence investigation on an old, run-down building burning down without good cause. Not to mention, they’ll have a ton of assets already in those areas. No one had searched Khoury’s place before us, which means he wasn’t on French intelligence’s radar.”

The Algerian came back carrying a cheap tray with a chipped teapot and three mismatched cups. But the tea he poured, strong and dark, was delicious. Drago’s second cup was just starting to get tepid when a beeping noise sounded behind him. He and Spencer turned fast to face the threat.

“Second laptop is done cooking,” the Algerian announced.

“If you could remove the encryption from it as well, that would be fantastic,” Drago murmured.

The man nodded and went to work. He got into the operating system this time and had to do a fair bit of typing before he sat back with a nod. “It’s unprotected now.”

Without bothering to look at it, Drago handed over enough cash to pay the guy’s rent for a couple of months. The man’s eyes lit up, and he held out a smudged business card. “If you ever need anything, please think of me.”

“Indeed I will. Pleasure doing business with you. Any chance we could purchase charging cables and a cheap computer bag?”

“Of course.”

Spencer stuffed the laptops into a vinyl bag, and they headed back to their hidey-hole. On the way, they bought groceries and bottles of water since the rusty fluid coming out of their tap looked pretty sketchy.

After taking evasive measures to make sure they hadn’t picked up a surveillance detail, they slipped into their new building and headed for their room behind the boiler.

Eagerly, they pulled the table over to the bed and sat down side by side to explore the second laptop.

It didn’t take long for Drago to join Spencer in swearing under his breath. It held floor plans, bank accounts, attack plans, even blueprints for various explosive devices neatly catalogued and labeled.

“Hell,” Spencer commented, “if you hand this over, the CIA might forgive you just because of how much information is on this machine.”

Drago snorted. “They’re not that friendly a bunch.”

“Why do you work for them again?” Spencer asked.

“I’m good at the job, and I like serving my country.”

“There are other ways to serve.”

Drago shrugged. “Yes, but who else besides the alphabet firms uses the skill set of a covert operator? The military is the only official option. I think we can both agree I would not thrive in the rigid structure of a military unit.”

Spencer laughed heartily. “I’d pay good money to see you try. I’m not sure who would blow up first—you or them.”

“Them. I’d go homicidal in two minutes flat. I hate being given orders.”

Spencer’s eyes glowed. “You didn’t mind last night.”