Page 47 of Troy Story
Kerim chuckled. “Did your mission have a code name?”
“Of course it did. Operation Odysseus. Because good old Odysseus was a cunning bastard. Gotta give him props for that.”
“I like it.” When they reached Kerim’s car, he unlocked it and opened the front passenger door for her. “Will you be all right back in the lab by yourself?”
She got in and set her daypack on her lap. “It won’t be the first time I’ve done lab work on my own. I’ve got enough material to illustrate. But I’ll miss digging with everyone. Other than Hughes, this is a great crew.”
“You’re a true gem,” he said. “I hope Stuart appreciates what he’s got.”
She hoped so, too. Right now, it sure didn’t seem like it.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Afull ten minutes after Dusty had left, Stuart was still processing everything. Not only had she pulled off this elaborate scheme, but she’d also hidden it from him. What had she been thinking? Sure, she was always up for a clever prank or a night of drunken fun, but to the best of his recollection, she’d never behaved so recklessly.
“Stuart!” Dr. Hughes came up to him, all bluster and anger.
“Sorry. What is it?” He turned his attention back to his boss.
“Your little friend almost screwed up everything. I’m hoping her apology placated Dr. Wagner. If not, her actions could have severe consequences.”
Would it come to that? Stuart’s stomach churned as he imagined the university’s reaction if the Turkish government revoked their permit again. All because he’d invited his best friend to join the dig.
He scrambled for an answer that might satisfy his boss. “I…suspect Dr. Wagner might keep quiet because of the humiliation. He might not want to admit he was fooled by three American girls who spoke perfect German.”
“Let’s hope so. If it were up to me, I’d send Dusty packing. It’s what she deserves. But if we’ve truly found the cemetery, we’re going to need her illustration skills. Clarissa has been helpful, but she’s still too slow.”
Thank God for that. “I’m so sorry. Believe me, I was in the dark about all of this.”
Dr. Hughes snorted. “Obviously, your friendship with Dusty has clouded your judgment.”
Stuart nodded. What else could he say? He could hardly defend her, not after her actions had nearly led to an all-out trench war. He went about the motions of setting up the food for their morning break, but he’d lost his appetite. As the crew sat down, buzzing about Dr. Wagner’s visit, he walked away from the site, giving himself a little distance from the others.
Had he not been clear with Dusty before when he’d told her how much this job meant to him? Did she not understand how precarious his position was?
Back when he was applying for work, he’d been on edge constantly. He’d lost hours of sleep, envisioning a future where he ended up unemployed or toiling at a minimum-wage job in the service industry. Not that there was any shame in that kind of work, but he hadn’t spent years in grad school with that goal in mind. Securing the post in Boston had been the lifeline he needed, and he couldn’t do anything to put it at risk.
Even so, he felt bad about the way Dr. Hughes had exiled Dusty. Pulling out his phone, he considered texting her until Emilia stalked over and punched him in the shoulder.
“Hey, dipshit!” she spat out.
Rubbing his shoulder, he glared at her. “What the hell, Em? Is that any way to talk to me?”
“Fuck that. How could you let Hughes throw Dusty under the bus?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you honestly think that spy mission was her idea?”
“She did something like that once before in Egypt, and she’s always been kind of fearless, so…” But even to his own ears, his rationale sounded weak. Dusty knew how much this dig meant to him. There was no reason she’d endanger it with a prank.
Shit.He’d misjudged her so badly.
“It was Hughes’ idea, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“Bingo. At first, he wanted Clarissa to do it solo, which is sleazy as hell. Dusty was so pissed she went after Hughes and yelled at him.”
“She didwhat?” Hadn’t she been listening when he’d begged her not to confront their boss?
