Page 40 of The Company We Keep

“What’s the plan, Wrenshall?” Carrow hissed into his comms unit — they were already too far out of earshot for Carrow to stop them without drawing attention.

“Just give me 10 minutes,” Dust said. “We’ll get them out of there.”

And then to Wayles: “Take me to where you heard them.”

Dust and Waylesstrode quickly into the hall where the students were working, both of them hefting the biggest cardboard boxes that they’d been able to fish out of the dumpster in the museum’s loading dock.

“Oh, yougottabe fuckin’ kidding me,” Dust said, pretending to be shocked by the presence of the students. He put down his boxes heavily with exaggerated frustration, stepping back with his hands on his hips to survey the hall. There were eight students — probably grad students judging by age — all in the midst of setting up what must be a capstone project in the flexible hallspace.

“Cohen’s kids arestill here?”Dust asked, turning to Wayles and letting out a huge sigh. He turned back to the students. “Do you guys even realize what time it is?”

“Who’s Cohen? We’re not —” started one of the students. He stopped as Dust raised a hand and shook his head.

“I don’t carewhosekids you are andwhogave you permission to be here so late — you gotta get the fuck out.”

The students flocked to them, already protesting. Wayles struggled with the boxes in his hands.

“Put those down, goddamn it, Pete,” Dust said, turning to Wayles and fanning out his hands. Dust had lapsed into a half-Jersey accent, remembering and attempting to channel one of his favorite and most stressed-out instructors back at AIIB. “This is a problem — this issucha fucking problem.”

“We’re just running late,” said another student. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Late?Late.Goddamn 2 a.m. and you’re runninglate. Yeah, no shit,” Dust said.

“Just let us call Dr. Buccellati — we have permission to —”

“Oh, great, yeah, I’m sure your professor wants to hearthat you’re here fucking up in the middle of a goddamn Sunday night. Let me just call Director Bauman — she’ll love that. Let me just call all of the curators at2 a. fucking m.”

“Hey, hey,” Wayles said, still struggling with his boxes. “Joel, it’s probably OK, yeah? They can at least keep working until we’re done for the night. What’s the harm, hm?”

“Don’t be a moron,” Dust said. “And would you put down those goddamn boxes? Arden's gonna have our heads for this — and I don’t evenwantto know who gaveyouthe keys to this hall.”

“Dr. Buccellati gave us the —”

“What did Ijust say?” Dust spat. In his peripheral vision, he could see Wayles trying not to laugh. “If you all pack up in the next 60 seconds and come back during real museum hours, we are going to go about our business swapping out the Urkesh exhibit and pretend like wedidn’tjust witness this particular piece of grad school fuckery.”

The students exchanged glances, not sure what they should make of the strangers.

“TheErin Errington is like two minutes behind us. Seriously. You need to go before she shows.”

“Erin Errington?” one of them asked, clearly dubious.

Dust let out the most pained groan he could muster.

“Erin fucking Errington — do you kids even go to class or what?Decision Making for Conservation of Archeological Sites?” he said, fanning out his hands again. “Tourism and Anthropology in a Postmodern World?These titles mean zero to you?”

“Oh shit, Errington, yeah,” one of them said.Fabulous. At least one of them was buying Dust’s bullshit.“Shit, um.”

“Yeah, ‘oh shit.’ She’s not going to be pleased and she’s got Bauman on speed dial.”

“Look, maybe we should…” the same student said, turning to the group. “I mean, I’m sure Bucellati will let us come back during normal hours. The opening isn’t until 4 anyway.”

“Her,” Dust said. “Listen to her.”

There were several more seconds of bickering, angst about grades and the necessity of extra credit. Wayles shot Dust a glance with a raised eyebrow. The tide was turning against the one holdout student who wanted to stay.

“Seriously, kids, clock’s ticking,” Dust said, sounding irritated.

“C’mon, let’s go back to campus,” the apparent leader finally conceded. Sighing and rolling their eyes at the two intruders, the students made their way towards the back door. Dust followed them, ready to lock the door behind them. He leaned out, watching them scatter to the dark cars in the staff parking lot. Dust shut the door, locked it, slumped against it, and retrieved his comms unit.

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