Page 64 of Set Fire to This Cardhouse

“Hey! Mike. That’s not what I meant!”

The door slams with a resounding crack. Toby throws his shoulder against the wood, a stupid, instinctive move, then tries the door handle. It’s already locked.

“Mike!” He kicks the door, but it doesn’t budge, and Jesus fucking Christ, Toby is too old to go around kicking doors—this isn’t fucking high school. Except Mike has that effect on him, manages to reduce Toby to an irrational, emotional car crash waiting to happen. They aren’t even dating, and already Toby’s heart feels too big for his chest, threatening to break through his ribs. He hates it—hates feeling weak and vulnerable, at someone else’s mercy.

Leaning his back against the door, he closes his eyes. There’s nothing but silence on the other side, and this feels familiar: the sickening weight behind his forehead, the taste of bile at the back of his throat. He swallows it down.

“And fuck you, too.” He isn’t yelling anymore. He feels too drained to yell, limbs heavy and tired, and either way, he knows Mike will be listening because that’s who Mike is; he might not show it, might not act accordingly, but he always listens. “Real mature, Mike. Thanks for proving my point about how this isn’t going to work.”

No reply. He didn’t expect one.

“Seriously impressive, the way you just jumped to conclusions. Why ask me to explain, right, when you can just blame me for things I never said?” With some difficulty, Toby peels himself away from the door and breathes through the vertigo. “I hope,” he tells the empty air, “you choke in your sleep, you ass.”

Yet there’s very little anger. Mostly, he just feels a bone-aching weariness at the prospect of spending his night on the couch, with a firmly closed bedroom door staring at him and dragging up memories of nights just like this, back when his and Jada’s marriage was falling apart. If there’s one thing Toby has learned, it’s that the more you care, the more it hurts.

Only later—after he switched off the lights to leave the room illuminated by nothing but the orange glow of the sky arching above Singapore—it occurs to Toby that this is not an experience he shares with Mike. That Mike is new to this.

It’s almost enough to make him get up. But when he searches his brain for the right words, he can’t quite find them. Maybe it’s better this way, though; maybe this means they can finish the job in a professional manner and then, afterwards, Toby will explain.

Sleep doesn’t come easily.

X. Chapter Two

U nsurprisingly, the morning is strained.

Mike’s shoulders are stiff, his lips a thin line, and he consistently refuses to meet Toby’s eyes. There are several times when Toby thinks about bringing up what is basically just a misunderstanding—this isn’t about cutting Mike out of his life; it’s the opposite, but there’s a need for some precaution before jumping off a ledge.

Not that Mike would understand. He just isn’t wired that way.

Yet each time Toby opens his mouth, he takes one look at Mike’s closed-off face and holds his tongue. There’s too much to explain, too many cards that he’d have to lay on the table, and there’s no time for it when they’ve still got a job to do. As soon as they leave this miserable city behind, its towering skyscrapers and oppressive humidity, Toby will take the bull by the horns.

A few more hours aren’t the end of the world.

***

Any other day, Toby would oppose Mike’s suggestion that they make their play over the lunch break; today, Toby is happy to throw himself into the rush of finalizing a plan and moving to execute it.

Using the lunch break is a bold choice, no doubt about it, but no guts, no glory. In order to slip in unnoticed, Toby will have to take advantage of the commotion that comes with people coming and going at the same time. With Mike manipulating the surveillance footage, Toby should be able to get to the executive floor. If the last four days are any indication, it will clear out entirely sometime after twelve.

As entering twice with the same ID raises an alarm, Toby will have to wait for Ken to log out before he can move in, and he’ll have to be gone by the time Ken returns. Overall, this should give him about forty-five minutes to get the data they need from Chan Teck Soon’s computer.

It’s enough.

***

Amongst the things that Liu taught Toby is this: you court danger if you get too cocky. Liu didn’t phrase it quite like that, of course—there was some stuff about karma and challenging fate with a question as simple as, What could go wrong?

The point stands, though: don’t get cocky.

It figures that just as the bulletproof door to Chan’s office slides open and Toby thinks, Well, hey, this is easy—it figures that this would be the moment when things go wrong.

“Toby.” Mike’s voice is tight, which can really only mean that he’s met with something that can’t be solved with a gun and sheer, stupid luck. “Get out of there.”

“What’s wrong?” The door to Chan’s office is about to close again, so Toby slips in quickly, the room enveloping him in perfect, dangerous silence. He strides forward and switches the computer on with a flick of his wrist.

“Did you just—you just entered the office.” There is a clear note of urgency to Mike’s words. “I told you to get out of there. Ken Tan just re-entered the building—”

“Shouldn’t you be on a first-name basis with a guy you fucked?” Toby pulls the desk chair out and waits for the screen to light up, then shoves a USB stick into a free slot, employing just a little more force than necessary.

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