Page 31 of Set Fire to This Cardhouse

Then the corners of Mike’s mouth lift. “Shopping?”

“Shopping,” Toby agrees, and his chest feels a little wider, more space to breathe.

***

It’s Mike who finds the snow globe.

In fact, snow globe might be the wrong term to describe a glass monstrosity filled with pink and blue glitter that whirls around the miniature plastic model of a yacht. A certain resemblance to the Liberty is undeniable, and Toby stares at it for a long second, truly impressed by how much kitsch can fit into an item the size of his palm. He turns his head to take in Mike’s proud grin, the delight in his eyes.

A price of thirty-five euros is daylight robbery. Toby pays without hesitation.

They exit the crowded shop. Toby is glad to leave behind all those baseball caps with sparkling logos, ties sporting Eiffel tower symbols, and water color paintings of garish sunsets. Mike carries the snow globe under one arm.

They get overpriced ice cream at a street vendor, Toby going with vanilla and strawberry while Mike orders something blue that goes by the name of smurf. The strawberry ice cream tastes artificial, and the tiny black spots swimming in Toby’s scoop of vanilla can’t replace taste: it has less flavor than frozen milk. According to Mike, the main ingredient of smurf might be water-soaked chewing gum.

Toby bets this particular street vendor wouldn’t recognize actual ice cream if it bit him in the ass, but they eat their cones, ice cream and all, sitting on the harbor wall, legs dangling as they look out at the port. Ships are bobbing with the small waves that roll in from the sea. The plastic-wrapped bundle that contains the snow globe is sitting between them.

“I’m sorry,” Mike says at some point into the comfortable quiet that envelopes them. High above their heads, seagulls are shrieking, water lapping at the stones.

Toby swallows down frozen milk and wipes his mouth, glancing at Mike’s profile. “Apology noted,” he says. He pauses, considers it for a moment before he adds, “Next time I catch you snooping through my stuff, I will punch you in the nuts.”

Mike’s smile is brilliant and true. They almost miss their bus to the airport.

***

Somehow, Toby ends up keeping the snow globe.

He hides it in the bathroom cabinet of his new apartment and makes it up to Haley by buying her a stuffed Eskimo dog that comes up to her shoulders. She loves it, so it’s a win-win situation.

The snow globe is an amusing souvenir that reminds Toby of sun-flooded horizons and a moment of peace by the sea, the sounds of lapping water. It doesn’t mean anything.

VI. Newark, U.S.

T here are advantages and disadvantages to an op that’s basically the U.S. doing some foreign government a favor. An obvious plus is easy access to permissions, weapons, and backup if necessary; also, no need to cover their tracks. The downsides aren’t quite this obvious, but Toby has always been wary of situations that allow outsiders to connect his face to a job, fake name or not.

Hey, one man’s paranoia is another man’s foresight.

They leave Liu’s office together, Mike carrying the folder that contains the basic facts and their plane tickets—the Agency is hopelessly attached to paper when there is this thing called eTickets; save trees, do your part for the planet and all.

It’s a time-critical mission: the longer they wait, the higher the risk that their target, a group of FARC members, moves from Ecuador’s border region back into Colombia. That would remove them from the jurisdiction of the Ecuadorian government, and if Mike and Toby were to follow, it would mean a lot of paperwork as it would take them beyond the scope of their original mission.

Toby is not a fan of paperwork. He is also not a fan of letting Haley down.

“Coffee?” Mike stops in front of the elevator. “I could use one before we jump into planning this thing.”

“Can you live without soy milk?” Toby doesn’t wait for a reply; he’s seen Mike order coffee at airports in India, Mauritania and France, and there doesn’t seem to be any regularity to it—sometimes he takes it black, then with sugar and milk, soy milk, almond milk, and there was also that cinnamon atrocity in New Delhi. “The coffeemaker on my floor is decent. When it works, which it does about one time out of three.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Mike is smiling as he hits the button for the fifth floor. He’s wearing gray slacks and a light blue button-down today; not quite the suit and tie that’s recommended for employees of Kroning Ltd., but Toby appreciates that it’s a step in the right direction. He also appreciates the way Mike’s shoulders fill out the shirt, but that’s neither here nor there.

He waits until they’re inside the elevator before he says, “Give me five minutes, though, all right? Got to rearrange some stuff—I was supposed to take my niece swimming this afternoon. Not that I’m a fan of chlorine, mind you, or the way your hands and toes get all pruney after a good soak.”

“If you ask me, swimming’s the closest the human body can get to flying.” The stark elevator light turns Mike’s eyes a light hazel. There are faint circles under his eyes. Toby suspects he needs to sleep more, but pot and kettle.

“Of course you’d say that. You and Ha—you’d get along with her. With my niece.” Toby crosses his arms, leaning one shoulder against the wall. “She must get the wet gene from her mother’s side because in my family, we’re all sensible people. We prefer walking, on solid ground.”

Mike doesn’t react to the near-slip, his expression open. “What are you going to tell your brother?”

“Nothing for now.” The blinking panel of the elevator flashes red numbers at them: 11, 10. Fascinating. “My brother’s with a client—he’s building up his career right now, that’s why he asked me to pick her up. But there’s an emergency childcare service for situations like this, they’ll meet her after school and keep her fed and entertained.” He lets one side of his mouth curl into a smile he doesn’t feel. “They should introduce a frequent user program. I’d qualify for some kind of executive platinum status by now.”

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