“Over here,” Seth heard him say. “There’s a storage room under the stairs that they sometimes leave open. There’s even a couch inside.”

Seth’s insides went cold. There was no way they could avoid seeing him.

“You seem to know a lot about it” Her words were frostbitten around the edges. “Do you bring your dates here often?”

“No … no I—it’s just—the storeroom belongs to the philosophy department I helped them carry some files down here once, that’s all. I’ve never brought anyone here before, honest.”

There was a long silence. Finally Seth heard her laugh. Beneath the girlish giggle was the carbon steel sound of victory.

And before Seth had time to think more about it, the couple stepped into the deep shadows beneath the stairs and were quickly face-to-face with him. The boy had one hand around her waist and another slipped inside her blouse.

She gave a quick high cry of surprise and jumped back as she covered her mouth. The boy’s face looked like a motion picture running full ahead fast: fear, embarrassment, recognition, and back to fear. Both their faces, white and drained of blood, reflected the dim light like twin moons.

No one said anything for what seemed like aeons. Seth’s insides churned. On the one hand, he was a member of the faculty and had the rank and authority. As a member of the philosophy department, he also had a valid reason to be there in the storeroom. On the other hand, he hadn’t wanted to be discovered and had skulked there in the darkness listening to their very private conversation.

“Professor—” The boy spoke first but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

“Good evening,” Seth said awkwardly. The words were inane but they were all he could think to say.

Suddenly the boy began to speak furiously, making excuses that compounded his embarrassment rather than easing it. His companion’s cooler feline instincts prevailed. She told him quietly to shut up and pulled him back toward the lighted portion of the corridor.

“Good evening, professor,” she said, all composed and polite. “It was … interesting bumping into you.”

As their footsteps faded into the distance of the far end of the corridor and finally disappeared, Seth wondered if the boy had any idea just how far over his head he had gotten.

When he heard the door close at the end of the corridor, Seth left his briefcase in the deepest part of the shadows and set to work on the deadbolt. Despite its complexity it yielded to his ministrations in little more than a minute.

Seth replaced the lockpicks in the briefcase and opened the door. There was movement in the darkness, frantic scurrying. The light from the corridor failed to penetrate the gloom. He reached inside the door for the light switch, but it threw no light when he flicked it. The bulb had apparently burned out. That was going to make Tony angry. On occasion he liked to get away from things by coming down here, sitting on the old sofa, and eating sandwiches constructed of unusual fillings and materials. Pulling his flashlight from his windbreaker pocket, Seth stepped through the threshold of the room. He heard a pattering, a series of scratchings, and a constant rustling.