After moving to the break room on four, Godric and Ada talked for an entire hour. The mutual information revealed disturbed both, but for different reasons. The looming potential of Steve's unknown machinations could explain some of the things in Godric's journal, but not all of it. Moreover, the crucial motive to cause disturbances such as he recorded was lacking—at least in
Durst's estimation—and his opportunity to do so also seemed amiss.

Ada became adamantly opposite as they talked—Steve's hints of other secret passages about the museum provided all the opportunity she needed to hear about. A motive seemed known to her—from the way she spoke, half-smiles and a cocked head—but this she did not reveal.

More and more Godric came to the conclusion some extra method of action was at work. A third party—identity unknown—skulking about the museum by night. Maybe this party was related to Steve, or maybe it was independent of him. Yet he could not articulate the true peculiarity of the disturbances enough to convince Ada. She also seemed incapable of expressing something of equal import.

They both drank coffee while they sat on the plush couch in the corner of the break room, talking it over. Godric asked a question after a period of silence when the girl seemed to think the discussion done.

"What was it you're really here for?"

"Hmm?" said Ada. She sipped her coffee and put it down—a stall.

"Before you said something about the reason you're here helping to explain things. It might save energy if you made that plain to me."

"Oh that," she laughed, but it was false. "I'm here to manage the records." Her eyes landed and fixed on the coffee; not him.

"I know, what of it?"

"What?"

"Why would that help reveal an explanation? A motive for harassment?" asked Godric.

She was still avoiding his eyes, "Oh, well sometimes when records management is introduced to a place where it's been pretty lacking before, certain types of wrong-doing can be uncovered. That's all."

"How does that explain..."

"I thought it gave you a motive to harass me!" she shot. "Isn't that clear?"

"Oh," said Godric, but that didn't seem to cover it. He asked her whether she was still being straight with him.

"Yes of course I am!"

"That's all of it then? You thought you might find something I was hiding—just pure speculation on your part? Nothing more?"

"Yes!"

Godric nodded. He didn't believe her, but he let it slide, and instead asked, "What sort of wrong-doing?"

"Oh," she said it too fast to be believable, "Just little petty thing. Enough to get someone in trouble—only a little—but that's all. A distempered mind might think it enough to take aggressive action."

"You thought what? That I was a distempered mind?"

"Yes. I already explained I was wrong."

"Is this enough for someone to be fired over? This records stuff?"

"Sure," she was trying too hard to sound casual about it, and Durst merely nodded again.

"Just fired?"

"Si," A wicked smile appeared on her lips, and she asked, "I want you to be clear with me too. So, do you believe in ghosts? It's okay if you do—but is that why you're hesitant to accept Steve as the culprit of my harassment and your noises?"

Her smile was still of the villainous sort, and he murmured, "Not really."

She giggled. He frowned.

Durst had not intended to walk Ada home. But the way she glanced at him when he opened the staff door, greeted by the still, looming elms in darkness that surrounded the staff parking lot made this inevitable.

Only a single light shone from above the door, revealing an empty stretching slab of pavement and yellow lines. Above it, a large moon stood among thin clouds that clung in space as though painted there. A thin film of stars shone from beyond. The lack of wind made it so quiet that something small like a mouse could be heard hopping about the elms with some concentration; this was followed by the brown swoop of an owl in the moonlight. It rose up again and vanished over the trees after flicking through the light.

"I guess you didn't drive here, did you?" asked Godric.

"No," said Flavia. "I brought no car with me from Turin."

"I was under the impression you were Swiss?"

"I was born in Italy to an Italian mother, and a Swiss father. We lived in both places throughout my life."

"Oh," said Godric. "I was born here, never left it for long."

"Hm," said the girl.

"I'm only really supposed to walk people as far as their cars."

"You didn't drive either? Couldn't give me a ride?"

"I'm only a fifteen-minute walk away," said Godric, and Ada's expression didn't change. "Though I do have a car, yes," added Godric with some haste, "It's just a fifteen-minute walk away. In my apartment buildings garage."

"I'm a seven-minute walk," said the girl, her voice unimpressed.

"You've been walking home every night? After dark?" Godric's glance returned to the elms. The streetlights along the road down were few and far between. Their dim, yellow light left long expanses of black between each post.

"Does Steve live near here?" she said, "Or hang out in the area?" Delicate, thin fingers played with the straps of her backpack.

"No," said Godric. "Though I suppose he hangs out any place there's a pub, and yes there are a few in the centre of town. A minute or two of walking maybe."

In truth Godric possessed only a hazy idea of where Steve lived—he'd never really thought about it. It for sure wasn't the south-end like him, or the north-end like Alan. That only left the town centre surrounding the hill they stood upon—or east of it. The bastard wasn't anywhere near the Museum—always complaining about traffic noise from the motorway at night. How that same traffic held him up in the morning.

"Must live in the east-end," Durst muttered.

But at that didn't make sense. The east of Clemsworth was upscale. Fancy. What the hell was a security guard doing living in the fancy area of town? Durst knew his own wages would hardly support an apartment there. Even only equal to his current one and would leave a much narrower margin for savings. And Steve talked like he had a whole house to himself.

"At any rate I think he lives across the motorway," said Durst. "No clue how he swings that though..."

"What?" said Galli. She was observing his confusion in the darkness.

"The cost of it, I mean. It's the nice part of town where the rich people live." Ada looked at him as though this struck at her too, much more than it had at him, and then her eyes titled to the ground.

"Why do you ask all that?" said Durst.

"Because..." the girl muttered, scanning the elms with her eyes as she spoke. "If it's not you that been bothering me. I... I think it must've been him. And if my harasser is not before me, as you are now, then I don't know where he is. Follow? Could be anyplace. Thinking about anything... Looking at... Anything," there was dread in her voice as she said that.

"I think I follow," he said.

The girl nodded, and then added, "I'm a few blocks away. In the big building." She pointed at the horizon, to where a ten-story tower of apartments loomed on the edge of downtown. It's numerous yellow eyes leered over buildings and even over the tops of the elm trees at them.

"Oh, you live in the eye-sore," said Durst. She looked back at it, and sort of chuckled.

"I guess it is that."

"Okay," said Durst. "I'm really only supposed to walk people to their cars, so let's say that's what I did. Only your car is a very long ways away, and we gave up after seven minutes."

"Will this be so much trouble?" she seemed concerned, and Durst let her down easily, and lied, "No."

"Okay," her voice was uncertain. "Will I be in trouble?"

"Huh?" said Durst. He had made to lock the door behind them, and patted for the keys, before stopping when she said this.

"Is it a source of trouble that you're not going to report me? Am I trouble to you?"

"Oh," Durst said, "I hadn't thought about it... Tell you the truth I think I'd have forgotten all about it if you hadn't said anything. Filing a report that is," and then he shot, "I'd have remembered everything else."

"Hmm," Adelheid said as though she had only just realized a tactical error. She made to correct it immediately, "My actions were justified. No need to make a report. It's all sorted out."

"I still have to explain how you got my keys. How the keyholder on my belt was damaged. They'll see us together on the cameras as well—under present conditions I have to explain that..."

"I'll say it was okay!" urged Ada.

"And frankly I don't want to let you off completely," said Durst.

A look of sudden realization hit her, and with fevered haste she dug her hands into a pocket. Came out with his key-ring wrapped tight in her fingers.

"I'm sorry I kicked you! And here," she said. "It was an accident, I think. The keys got caught, and I had to cut it away to free you... Perhaps after I stumbled across the secret passage—by accident—and reported it to you... And..." After a pause she nearly shouted, "If you don't do that and I get fired then Steve gets what he wants. And maybe you'll be fired too, hm?"

Her eyes were pleading and seemed about to melt. Godric smiled and nodded. He still intended to leave a report.

"They might think it was misbehavior on my part otherwise," she said

"It was," said Godric.

"But you've forgiven me," her eyes were back to pleading.

"I didn't."

"But you must've. You agreed with me."

"Maybe Steve is up to something—fine—I admit it's possible. But he never actually told you to do that, did he?"

"No, not exactly," she admitted.

"You thought it up yourself."

"You wouldn't?" Ada shot. If you let me be fired then you are a Steve! No better!"

"Don't worry, I'm not a Steve," Godric assured her. "I won't do that."

"Good, good!" the girl said. "I knew it!"

"I don't know if I really forgive you though. That was a bad time that capped off an already shit day."

"Oh," the girl sighed—frustrated—and Durst again turned to lock the door. "I see," she muttered. "But..." she began, and stopped when Godric did not turn.

The lock clicked, and so did something within Ada Galli, for words then spewed from her mouth, "I'll tell you everything, okay?" the words came a mile a minute, "Steve is up to something. But I signed an NDA about this. So I forbid you to repeat it—to anyone! I forbid you!"

"Okay...?"

"Part of my job here is to see if there are forgotten records regarding how certain items—formally of the CM's collection—have since turned up in private hands. It's known some of these objects came to their present owners through the gray market—that's putting it nicely—but it's unknown how any of them entered that market. You see this all started because some of these items weren't technically owned by the CM—only kind of leased to them by other museums or private individuals. They weren't the CM's to dispose of... So if they've turned up in private hands, follow?"

"I'm not sure I do?"

Ada frowned—looked almost mad, and then continued, "So if I'm unable to find records that provide an innocent explanation for how these items left the museum, then it means their method of exit was likely not innocent. Shrinkage! Director Wexler realizes this—that it'd be a scandal for the museum if confirmed. So he's trying to be proactive and lessen the impact, you see? Get ahead of it. Before litigation can start... Or any investigations."

"What?"

"Oofra! I'm saying that if I don't find these records of innocence then it's very, very likely the items were stolen from the museum!"

"Oh!" shot Godric. It all clicked into place.

"And from the amount that's turned up in private hands, over quite a time span... Wexler's worried these thefts have very likely happened gradually over years—totally undetected! Until now," she said with considerable fierceness. "That span of time points to someone with access to the museum as the thief—an employee!"

"Jesus..." muttered Godric. Felt ashamed all of a sudden.

"I admit Steve's calumny led me to suspect you at first..." she trailed off and prompted him with her hands.

"You think Steve's the thief now?" said Durst. He couldn't disagree.

"Yes!" she shot. "That's why he'd harass me and try to get rid of me—he doesn't know that I signed an NDA, it's contents, or what that means for the future—but I think he's smart enough to be worried I might stumble across something incriminating! Doesn't like my being there, and wants he fired. I'm only an intern so I bet he thinks he can swing that much! That's why you must walk me home, forgive me, and not report my misbehavior," she said, counting off each item on her finger before smiling.

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