Page 70 of Set Fire to This Cardhouse

“Agent Brown, Agent Redding.” The dark-haired man—Welton? Wellon?—steps forward, subtly patting his waist. “Please collect your baggage and come with us—quietly and separately. We don’t want to cause a scene.” His tone implies that he, for one, wouldn’t be entirely opposed.

Toby exchanges a quick glance with Mike. They could take Welton, and they could also take the three men hanging back, silently waiting. It wouldn’t be worth it, though—a target on their backs is not what they need. And it’s not like they’ve done anything really wrong.

A minor complication, that’s what it is. A delay.

God, Toby hates the day someone first decided to integrate a camera into a cell phone.

“With pleasure,” he replies for the both of them. He spreads his hands wide and waits for permission before he grabs his returning suitcase off the belt. In passing, he brushes his fingertips against Mike’s side and hopes it will look like an accident.

Mike nods at Toby, a tiny smile tucked into the corners of his eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

“You will.” Toby smiles back before he turns to follow Welton.

One of the smartly dressed men falls into step behind him, a little too close for Toby’s liking. With customs up ahead, Toby takes advantage of the short wait to glance back over his shoulder and finds Mike still standing in the same spot, frowning at the two men framing him. Jesus, here’s hoping he won’t do anything rash, won’t do anything that might endanger his contract with the Agency.

Toby doesn’t even know his last name.

XI. Newark, U.S.

T oby knows that it is standard procedure to separate agents whose work has come under scrutiny as early as possible. After a nineteen-hour flight, with distant pain still radiating from his left hand, he doesn’t care about standard procedure.

He wants his bed, and he wants Mike. Anything else is optional.

Instead, he’s ushered into a small meeting room in the belly of Kroning Ltd.’s office building, dark gray carpet and no daylight, the low hum of the air conditioning a constant presence. Welton and the other agent ask for his phone and lock the door when they leave.

Then Toby waits.

And waits.

By the time there are voices in the corridor, he’s dozing with his head on the table. He jerks upright and relaxes only when the door opens to allow Liu inside. Liu stops on the threshold to address someone behind him, his voice pitched low. “I said, alone. It is my right to talk to my agent. You want me to cite the rules?”

Whoever dared question Liu’s order retreats quickly, and Liu turns with a faint smile. He closes the door with pointed precision before he approaches, the silence hanging heavily between them until Liu breaks it, his tone light. “Well then, my friend. We received the data, so I think we’ve got a good chance of riding this one out. The pictures are unfortunate, of course.”

“Sorry.” Toby doesn’t know what else he could possibly say.

“Are you?” Half-sitting on the table, Liu looks down at Toby, no reproach in his gaze. “Because from what I gathered, Mike bailed you out of a tight spot. If you’d kicked the bucket, I would have expected a big fucking apology. This? It’s a glitch.”

Toby looks away. Fuck, he’s tired. Each time he blinks, it feels like tiny grains of sand are scraping over his eyeballs. “A public shooting wasn’t on the task list.”

“Dying wasn’t either.” Liu slouches lower, silent for a long moment. “I’d like to thank Mike for keeping you alive. He’s an outside contract, unfortunately, so I can’t bully my way into getting a minute alone with him.”

Some of Toby’s tiredness dissipates as his stomach twists. “He all right?”

Liu’s nod is slightly delayed. “They’re holding him in a different room.”

“Can I…” Toby trails off. “I know I won’t be allowed to listen, but could you? He’ll appreciate a friendly face. Not that he can’t handle himself, and it’s not as if he—We completed our mission, right? We just ran into a complication.”

“Once again, using full sentences?” If Liu can still take the piss, things aren’t that bad. Toby relaxes by a fraction.

“Okay, how’s this: get the hell out of here and make sure that Mike is all right, or I will hold you personally responsible. Trust me, it won’t be pretty.”

“Better.” Liu stretches leisurely before he pushes off the table and lightly touches Toby’s shoulder. “I was going to check on him anyway. In the meantime” —his smile flashes quick and genuine— “I’ll have Jesy find you a quiet room so you can catch some sleep. No subordinate of mine will be subjected to sleep deprivation as an interrogation technique.”

As long as Mike’s under scrutiny, Toby doubts he’ll be able to get much rest beyond a light doze. “I’d rather watch them question Mike,” he says. “But I guess that’s out, so yeah, lying down would be appreciated.”

Liu’s gaze turns unfocused for a moment before he nods. “Well, it’s not in my power to let you sit in on Mike’s interrogation. All I can offer is the couch in my office; I’ll tell Mirjam to prevent anyone from disturbing you until you’re up for questioning. How’s that?”

“I know I don’t say it often enough, but...” Toby manages to drag up a smile. “You’re a good boss and a better friend. Thanks, man.”

---