We park on a tiny, forested road, this time farther away from the Bratton Collection. The trees will keep the car mostly hidden, even with its bright blue color.

Aiden and I check each other’s outfits. We tuck the badges into the inner pockets of our suit jackets. Our regular jackets, we leave behind. It’s going to be a chilly walk, but in this case, image is more important.

We have everything. We’re all ready to go. The only thing we should have that we don’t is live video footage of Coburn in his office.

It was the last thing we needed the camera for: making sure that we didn’t miscalculate by assuming he’d be working on a holiday. We could have delayed the heist if it turned out he wasn’t there, but… now we can only hope for the best.

Aiden turns to start walking to the road. I seize his hand, spin him around, and crush our mouths together. He’s startled, but he recovers immediately and kisses me back, taking my jaw in his fingers.

We hold hands until we reach the main road, where we have to let go.

Aiden starts murmuring under his breath; last-minute rehearsal. He’ll be doing most of the talking today.

“Don’t even try to lie,” Kasey had said to me. “I can’t think of anything that would blow the heist faster. Aiden, you do all the lying, and Jamie, you add in just enough truth to make it believable.”

We’ve drilled ourselves on what Kasey told us to say. Over and over, for hours.

Trusting Aiden the way I do now, it’s easy to forget what a gifted liar he is. He and Ralph would do it together all the time, back in high school. Tell you some completely false thing, right to your face, and sound so natural that you wouldn’t even think to question it.

Aiden doesn’t do much lying these days, but… I was there for the smackdown that he gave Ralph. I know full well that Aiden hasn’t lost any of his old talents; he just refuses to use them.

When it’s necessary, he can pull it out like he never stopped at all. I suspect he’ll do so today, even if he’s nervous about it.

He stops mumbling as we get closer. His shoulders straighten out; he walks taller. His sweet, anxious blue eyes turn icy and unfriendly.

So strange, to watch the real Aiden vanish beneath the veneer.

If he can pull it together, then I can, too. I let my expression go completely neutral as we approach the Bratton Collection.

Davis and Michael only work nights, so the security guard patrolling the lawn is someone we don’t recognize.

He strides to meet us before we can get more than five steps onto the grounds.

“Museum’s closed,” he says.

“We’re here to meet with Nicholas Coburn,” I answer, and the guard raises an eyebrow.

This is it. He’s about to tell us that Coburn isn’t working today, and we’ll have to slink off and explain everything to Kasey, figure out a whole new plan.

“Mr. Coburn?” The guard shivers as a gust of wind rushes over the lawn. He zips his thin Bratton Collection jacket closed. “Is he expecting you? He didn’t say anything about visitors today.”

“He’s not expecting us,” Aiden says, “But he’ll want to see us.”

He pulls out his wallet and extracts one of the business cards we had printed. The guard takes it, reads it, and looks back up at Aiden, clearly intrigued.

“Can’t leave the grounds unattended,” he says. “Hang on.”

He unclips a radio from his belt and speaks into it quietly.

A minute or so later, another guard steps out from the Bratton Collection and crosses the lawn to us. She takes the card and heads back inside, casting an interested look back over her shoulder.

We wait. My natural instinct is to make conversation with this security guard, but - Kasey told us to be polite, not friendly.

A fresh wave of wind rolls over the grounds. The guard stuffs his hands into his pockets, then takes them out again. He blows into his palms and rubs them together, and I can’t help but ask.

“They can’t give you better jackets?”

The guard plucks at his sleeve, biting back a scowl, trying to keep professional. “Mr. Coburn believes that the cold keeps us more alert.”

I click my tongue disapprovingly, and the guard seems to warm to us a little.

“Here, why don’t we wait at the entrance? I’ll walk you.”

He leads us to the Bratton Collection’s doors. We stop outside right as they open again, and the other guard leans out.

“Mr. Coburn will see you,” she says. “I’ll bring you up.”

The broken camera didn’t ruin the heist, then. Coburn is here, and he’s in his office. I fight the urge to let out a long, relieved breath.

But it’s way too early to celebrate. We’re just getting started.

Aiden and I follow the security guard inside.

The doors of the Bratton Collection close behind us, and seem to seal us in.

~~~~

We’re planning to play on all of Aiden’s strengths, and all of Coburn’s weaknesses.

“Coburn is obsessed with America,” Kasey had said, “Which probably means he’s a sucker for authority figures, so. He should do what you say. He’s got an ego, so make him feel important, flatter him a little. Speak his language, even if it makes you feel gross.”

I get the sense that Aiden is doing one last mental review of Kasey’s instructions. But you wouldn’t know it, to look at him. He seems perfectly calm. Smooth and cold, like ice.

The security guard steps back and gestures to Coburn’s office. The door is already propped open, so we go straight in.

Coburn is standing with his back to us, facing the window. He turns at the sound of our footsteps, and I see that he has the business card in his fingers.

The security guard is curious, and hovering. Coburn’s eyes flit to her.

“See if anyone’s around to get us some coffee, would you, Sandra?”

“Not my name, or my job,” she mutters quietly, but Coburn has already stopped listening. Not-Sandra shows herself out. She doesn’t close the door after herself, so I do.

Coburn doesn’t miss that. His grip around the card tightens, his fingernails pressing into the paper. His eyes rove over us, taking in our outfits - very different from the clothes he’s seen us in before - and the expressions on our faces.

“Unusual card." He holds it up. It's completely blank, but for one single, austere word printed on the front. One of the two names we let Donna overhear. “Which of you is Foster?”

Aiden gives Coburn one of those cold, unfriendly smiles. I see something click behind his blue eyes, and suddenly he’s just - on. Any hint that he’s tense or anxious drops completely away. He seems both comfortable and in control, exactly like Kasey told him to be.

“Mr. Coburn.” Aiden reaches into his jacket and takes his badge from his pocket. I do the same, and we flash them at Coburn, whose face pales immediately. “I’m Agent Foster. This is Agent Sutton. I’m afraid we need a moment of your time.”

Coburn leans forward to squint at our badges.

“CDA?” he asks, clearly scanning through his brain for the meaning of the acronym. “I don’t understand, do I need my lawyer?”

“There will be no need for that, I assure you,” Aiden says firmly.

“Why don’t you have a seat, sir?” I suggest.

Coburn hesitates, then loops behind his desk and drops into the chair there. Aiden and I take the two seats before it, tucking our badges away. Coburn’s got his handkerchief out, and he presses it unsteadily to the corner of his eye. Aiden’s gaze follows the movement.

“You seem tired,” he observes. “Working late nights?”

“Something like that.” Coburn dabs at his face one more time before he tucks the handkerchief away. “And I have a rebellious teenager on my hands. My daughter. Bit of a free spirit. I’ve seen wild horses broken faster!”

He waits for us to laugh. We do not.

“Is that really it?” Aiden tips his head very slightly to the side. “Or has something else been going on?”

Coburn fixes his nervous, watery eyes on Aiden, and doesn’t answer. Aiden nods, like he didn’t expect him to.

“Mr. Coburn, we’re with the Department of Defense.”

Coburn startles. He wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“A very specific division,” Aiden presses on, “Called the CDA. I’m guessing you haven’t heard of us?” Coburn shakes his head, and Aiden nods again. “That’s how it’s intended. You understand? Only a very select few ever learn of our existence. Only when it’s absolutely necessary.”

Coburn swallows dryly. “What does CDA stand for?”

“Cross-Realm Defense Administration,” Aiden says. “We’re with the DoD, but think of us as… homeland security, in a way.”

“Cross-Realm…” Coburn’s eyebrows furrow, and then his entire face goes slack. “Wait, now. Wait a moment.”

“Sutton and I are what’s called a Plane Breach Response Team.”

“Plane Breach Response Team!” Coburn lets out a laugh, like he expects us to laugh, too. Once again, we don’t. “No,” he says, sounding strangely desperate. “No. Come along. This is a joke - a prank - there’s no-”

“And yet,” Aiden interrupts, “It seems like you already know what we’re here to talk about.”

Coburn swallows again, then leans back in his seat.

“I do not adhere to superstitions.” He says it like it’ll be true, if he only sounds firm enough.

Aiden waves a dismissive hand.

“What’s superstition? Belief, grown old. One day, in the future, the beliefs we have right now will be seen as superstition, too. You can rigidify your thought by narrow words with narrow definitions, if you like. Or you can consider the fact that you, sir, are a highly educated man with a coherent worldview, and you have seen and felt things that you can’t explain. I am here, as is Sutton, to offer you an explanation. And a solution.”

“But-” Coburn’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment. “No, this is absurd!”

“Try to understand, Mr. Coburn,” Aiden continues, brushing right past his protests. “The boundary between the natural and the supernatural is being continually adjusted. The government keeps a very close eye on these things, and we take it seriously. You’re a distinguished scholar of American history. Surely you’ve heard of Project MKUltra? Or the Stargate Project? Top secret initiatives, both. No civilian would have believed you, if you told them about it at the time. And we’ve become much more… sophisticated, since then.”

Coburn takes a minute to absorb that. I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to get out of my seat, so I stand up, pulling a small black box out of my pocket. I keep it half-hidden in my hand; we’re hoping that Coburn won’t look too closely and realize it’s literally just a fancy stopwatch. I start walking around the office, holding it to different surfaces.

Coburn’s eyes follow me. “What is he-?”

“He’s taking a reading of your office,” Aiden explains. “You’ll have to forgive Sutton if he’s a little impatient. It’s only that we have this conversation with every civilian we have to break this news to.”

“We know it by heart,” I add, seeing an opening for a quick bit of truth.

“It’s the same, every time.” Aiden sighs deeply. “No one ever believes us… until they do.”

I step up to the redwood bookshelves and run the stopwatch over the books. Aiden shifts in his seat, drawing Coburn’s gaze back to him. The second I’m sure no one’s watching, I grab the camera from the top shelf and hide it against my palm. Double-check that Coburn isn’t looking, then slip it into my pocket.

Evidence retrieval: accomplished.

Aiden opens his mouth to keep talking, but I press the button on the stopwatch before he can say anything. It starts beeping loudly. Coburn startles again, clutching at his desk.

“Foster.” I catch Aiden’s eye. “You should see this reading. There’s been more activity in this office than there’s been in the whole rest of the museum.”

Aiden nods. “As we thought. I’ll look at it later.”

“Suit yourself.” I press the button again. The beeping cuts out, and I put the stopwatch back into my pocket.

“No,” Coburn whispers. “How could you know about-? This can’t - this can’t -”

“Do you think that the existence of a thing is determined by whether current science is able to demonstrate it?” Aiden asks him. “If so, you could go back in history and find that there’s no such thing as an atom. Bacteria. A galaxy beyond our own.”

Coburn laughs, and this time it sounds like he’s begging us to laugh with him.

“I - I simply-”

Aiden leans back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest.

“Sir, believe what you will. I’m here to tell you the truth. When a plane breach occurs and releases a non-biological agent, Sutton and I come in for surveillance and eventual corrective action. A few weeks ago, all of our monitoring systems went wild. We’ve identified your museum as the area of potential effect. Do you think it’s a coincidence that we showed up to surveil the place right around the same time that all of this started happening?”

Coburn pales even further. “I - I never said anything was happening.”

“No,” Aiden agrees. “And yet, here we are.”

Coburn closes his eyes. “This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life.”

“We’ve been back every day that our monitoring system picked up a signal,” Aiden informs him. “If you check your security cameras, you’ll see that we've only visited the museum on days when paranormal activity occurred. How else would we know when to come, if we didn’t have ways of knowing?”

“But...” Coburn sits in dazed silence, then turns his head and looks right at me. “Is all of this really true?”

Oh, my fucking god. Aiden shifts like he’s going to answer for me, but that’s going to look suspicious, so.

“No,” I tell Coburn, keeping my voice perfectly flat. “None of it is true. It’s been the two of us, showing up to haunt you. We’ve been breaking past security on a regular basis. These badges are fake. We had them made just for this, just for you.”

“There’s no reason for sarcasm,” Coburn protests. “I’m only trying to wrap my head around - did you say haunt?”

Aiden jumps back in. “Yes. We believe your problem to be of a spectral nature. Activity code B2X57.”

It’s amazing, the way he can say such total nonsense with such total authority. Coburn sags in his seat, pressing a hand to his forehead.

I make an irritated sound. “Let’s just do it without him, Foster. Command already gave us authority to run this op, we don’t need-”

Aiden holds up a hand, and I fall silent.

“Mr. Coburn.” He leans forward, and Coburn freezes beneath his intense blue stare. “We believe that you are the principal target of this haunting. What we’re asking for is your assistance in resolving it, before it can get out of control.” He sits back, and looks disappointed. “Frankly, I expected a patriot such as yourself to jump at the opportunity to help keep Americans safe.”

"Well!" Coburn adjusts his glasses. "I-"

“If you don’t believe us,” I cut in, “Believe yourself. You know what you’ve heard and felt, don't you? What you’ve seen with your own two eyes?”

“Let us help you.” Aiden sounds remarkably earnest. “Help us help you. It would be a service to your government. To your country.”

I decide to round it out with one last bit of truth.

“I promise you,” I tell Coburn, “When we’re done here, all of these things that have been happening to you… they’ll stop.”

Coburn lapses into silent thought, then shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s about to say.

“Okay. I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”