‘So,’ I grunted, waving my torch in my accomplice’s face. ‘This is your idea of a good time, huh?’
‘Get that thing out of my face,’ he hissed, holding a gloved hand in front of his eyes. ‘Damien assured me you were a professional.’
‘Did he now?’ I chuckled, the sound echoing through the empty office space. ‘I have no clue where he got that impression.’
‘You two haven’t worked together before?’ the man asked me, his frown visible even behind the balaclava.
‘Oh, no, we have,’ I sighed, waving my torch around the maze of cubicles. ‘Just wasn’t anything professional about it.
‘Would you cut that out?’ he hissed again, dashing the few steps over to me and ripping the torch out of my hand. ‘People are going to see us!’
‘Oh, relax,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Nobody cares. For all anyone on the street knows, we work for a company that does office design around Melbourne, trying to get the leg-up on the competition after hours.’
I laughed again, but the humour was lost on my stoic companion.
‘Look,’ he grunted, ‘let’s just get what we came here for and then get out.’
‘If you want to be boring about it,’ I sighed. ‘But whatever. You’re footing the bill. Where are we looking, anyhow?’
‘That office,’ he pointed at the end of the row. I let out a cautious whistle.
‘Corner office,’ I nodded. ‘Pretty fancy mark you’ve got there.’
‘Yeah, something like that,’ he murmured. ‘Let’s just move, before a janitor sees us.’
‘Like I said,’ I bemoaned, for dramatic effect. ‘We’re innocent employees of a company that designs commercial fitouts for offices in Melbourne – if you don’t start singing the same tune as me, that’s how you end up caught.’
‘It’s a stupid tune!’ he growled. ‘Nobody would ever believe that!’
‘Wouldn’t they?’ I asked, arching my eyebrow, then realised that he couldn’t actually see the movement.
He leant in close, eyes narrowed into a truly haunting glare.
‘Why don’t you ask him?’ he whispered, pointing behind me.