"So I'm in my own version of It's a Wonderful Life?" asked Martin, moving away from Tabitha. He didn't want her to touch him again. He could still feel the sting on his back. Didn't angels know their own strength?

"You could say that," said Tabitha, taking no notice of Martin's wincing. "Now, what do you want to do? Do you want to start with family or co-workers? You don't seem to have many friends, so we can skip them."

Martin rolled his eyes. "Oh, thank you. I'm sure that will save you time tonight."

"Damn right it will," replied Tabitha, ignoring his sarcasm. "So, which is it?"

Martin thought for a moment. He didn't like to think about his family, so MJN air would have to be first. "Co-workers."

"OK! Let's get started." She pulled out her Blackberry, scrolling through what Martin imagined to be Heaven's version of a Wikipedia page on him. The more she scrolled, the less pleased she looked. "Ooh, this won't be pretty. I'll have to put a bit more time into you. According to Heaven's database, you're more important than you look. Keep up the sarcasm. Your ridiculous pride is distracting you from your depression. Good. We will be seeing your first officer, Douglas, first."

Martin snorted. "I'm sure Douglas will go on fine without me. His smuggling and general rule-breaking will go on unheeded without me spoiling his fun."

"Don't be so sure, Martin," said Tabitha, putting away her Blackberry. "Whether you know it or not, you are an important and integral part of MJN Air."

A hollow laugh escaped from Martin. "Only because Carolyn doesn't pay me," he said, his hand fisting in his pocket. "I am the only pilot she could find who would fly for free."

"Yes, there's that," conceded Tabitha. She looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was six-thirty. "But we're wasting time. I have another three suicides on my roster tonight."

"I should be bothered that you're rushing through your job," said Martin. He felt slighted by the idea that Heaven sent him a guardian angel that was so lackadaisical about saving his life. "Apparently, I'm not that important if I'm just another tick on your list."

Tabitha sighed. "No, you are important." It was the first time Martin heard her say something gentle to him. She reached out to touch his shoulder and looked in his eyes. "I'm always impressed by the roles people play in other's lives. There are many ordinary people who matter a lot to someone. They are unknowing lynchpins in people's lives that hold things together without real together without realizing it."

Martin looked away. "Surely you're not describing me."

"No one ever believes me," said Tabitha. Her land left his shoulder as she looked up to the ceiling as though she was pleading to an invisible entity. Probably God. She looked at Martin and said, "Fine. I will show you the life of Douglas Richardson without his Captain. Ready?"

Martin looked around. "How are you going to do that? I mean...will there be fairy...dust? Is it like how it is in the movies? A bit of swooshing and things blurring a bit?"

Tabitha smirked at Martin. "Something like that."

She snapped her fingers and suddenly they were in a warehouse. It happened so quickly, it was like someone changed the channel on the telly. Martin looked around. It was the cargo loading area of Fitton Airfield. The cargo loading area was like a noisy warehouse during the day with various cabin crews of other airlines loading and transporting cardboard boxes and crates of the goods to be transported. Now there was an eerie quiet to the cavernous warehouse. It was mostly dark except for the small corner of the warehouse where a single florescent light was turned on to shine a spot light on two crouched figures. They were surrounded by fifty cardboard boxes that were filled with what looked like hour glasses. Martin looked at Tabitha.

"No fairy dust, I'm afraid," she said, walking past Martin expecting him to follow. "They can't hear us," she said, answering Martin's unspoken question. "They can't see us either so don't be such a coward and follow me."

As they approached the two figures, Martin realized it was Douglas and a dark-haired young man that he had never seen before. The young man might have been described as handsome if he didn't have that pinched suspicious expression that seemed to be permanently etched on his face. They were packing the boxes, adding bubble wrap and cotton to further secure and protect the hourglasses. Douglas looked haggard and weary as he carefully sealed one box with packing tape. The young man's mouth was set in a grim expression of determination while he packed each hour glass tightly in tissue paper and Styrofoam packing materials.

"What is Douglas doing?" whispered Martin. It looked like they shouldn't be here. Whatever Douglas was doing with this man, it was obvious that this was a covert operation.

"What Douglas is doing is making trouble," explained Tabitha, disapproval dripped from her voice. "Your first officer always was too concerned about cultivating an image, particularly that of a glamorous airline pilot." "Yes, he did lose his job at Air England for a bit of smuggling," conceded Martin.

Tabitha snorted. "A bit of smuggling? Smuggling silk kimonos sewn into his captain's uniform over a six-month period is not a bit of smuggling. I don't really need to bore you with the details. Besides, it's against my code of ethics to provide you blackmail material on your first officer in case you decide you won't kill yourself tonight."

Martin looked taken aback at such a suggestion. "I would never blackmail Douglas like that!"

"Maybe not," agreed Tabitha, "but you've got a bit of pettiness in you, Martin. I don't like blackmail, even if it's just over a tray of cheese. MJN Air cannot pay Douglas the current salary he has when he's flying with you since you are the only idiotic pilot who would fly for free—"

"But—"

"Martin, if you keep cutting me off, I will never move on to my next lost cause," interrupted Tabitha irritably. "As I was saying, Carolyn could not pay Douglas's going rate as a competent pilot and what he gets now is significantly less than what he gets now with you as a pilot. Douglas has expensive child support payments for his five children by two different wives, a Lexus and a condo that he cannot afford. He is living beyond his means, so he smuggles to supplement his income."

Tabitha contemptuously points to the young man. "That's where this little shit comes in. His name is Patrick, a fellow pilot with expensive taste and the lack of principles that goes with it"

Martin felt his stomach drop. He could tell from the way Tabitha said this that what Douglas was smuggling was much more dangerous than the usual contraband whiskey. "What is Douglas smuggling?"

"Whatever it is, it's certainly not sand in those hourglasses," Tabitha replied, disapproval dripping from her voice. She crossed her arms and nodded towards the two men who were oblivious to their presence, hinting to Martin that this was time to pay attention the scene in front of them.

"Patrick, may I ask who is our lucky patron is?" asked Douglas, still retaining some of his smooth sarcasm but with a considerable loss of its usual bite. "The one who has just paid MJN Air 20,000 pounds to fly to Germany? MJN Air normally charges £800 for a Cargo flight to Germany and the items are usually more valuable than the twenty boxes of hourglasses we're flying tomorrow."

"Douglas, we made an agreement," said Patrick, delicately rolling another hourglass in bubble wrap. "Twenty thousand pounds go to MJN Air for a ridiculously easy and short cargo flight, and an extra nine thousand pounds goes to you for keeping your mouth shut, helping me with these little errands and creating the necessary lies to keep Carolyn happy."

"Yes," replied Douglas, "I remember our agreement but this captain thinks that there's something suspicious about a small charter air dot flying what amounts to be only £200 worth of goods. What shall I say to custom officers when they ask why such an expensive flight to deliver an insignificant parcel that could be sent via airmail for a mere 100 quid?"

Patrick stopped what he was doing and got up. He stood very close to Douglas, invading his personal space in what was obviously supposed to be an intimidation tactic. His eyes didn't seem to blink. They seemed almost inhuman in that frozen expression predatory curiosity. Internally, Martin felt ashamed for Douglas as Douglas attempted to hide his flinching expression.

"You're a clever man, Douglas," said Patrick, his voice even, cold and controlled. "That's what I pay you for. I don't pay you to ask questions. I pay you to think of stories, explanations and excuses for things you know nothing about. Those were your words. You were trying to get an extra 100 quid for that service alone. Are you getting cold feet? Do you think I'm not a man of my word?"

"No," said Douglas flatly and firmly. "You've kept your word remarkably."

Patrick's gaze lingered on Douglas's. Slowly, by increments, Patrick's cold expression softened into one of bored satisfaction. "Good. Believe me when I say that ignorance is bliss in our work, especially when you need me to keep up your idiotic lifestyle, the posh car you can barely afford and your fifteen kids that you can't support—"

"I don't have fifteen kids," interrupted Douglas.

"That is beside the point," said Patrick. "Your debt load and your abhorrence of cheap, squishy foiled cheese in the flight deck mean that you have to do as I say. Camembert comes at a price, Douglas."

Douglas rolled his eyes. "Yes, but this is not quite what I had in mind. Maybe an odd case of expensive port, a few counterfeit Prada bags, but this? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's not sand in those hourglasses."

"Why do you want to know now? You've been studiously disinterested in what we've been smuggling in until now," said Patrick. Patrick gave Douglas a look that Martin could only describe as shark-like. "Are you blackmailing me? Or do you want a bit of the sand for recreational use in your playground in Fitton? What is it, Douglas?"

Douglas tried to look stoically unruffled, but his wide eyed silence betrayed him. Patrick gave Douglas a condescendingly smug smile.

"Oh, I get it," sneered Patrick. "You just realized how deep you're into this. You're a small timer, a small fry, Douglas. You're a small time smuggler who got caught with sticky fingers in one of the larger airlines. Now no one will hire you. You've been reduced to flying for a mere pittance of what you're used to with an air dot that's run by an old bag, who can barely pay her bills. I've seen men like you, middle-aged with no life savings, used to a certain level of comfort they can't afford, men who live off debt and people's good graces."

The tension in the room was thick. Neither moved an inch. Martin hoped Douglas would come up with a witty retort. Anything was better than heartbreaking submission. Instead, Douglas picked up the packing tape off the floor. Crouching down to seal a box and averting his eyes, he asked, "How much cotton batting do we need again? We might run out soon."

Martin watched in stunned silence as Douglas and Patrick continued to pack the hourglasses into the boxes. Martin always thought Douglas sometimes pushed things where he shouldn't with his schemes, but he didn't imagine Douglas would be caught up in illegal drug trafficking. Martin was relieved to know that Douglas was not that sort of smuggler. He had never been so glad to learn that Douglas only aspired to small-time smuggling of benign luxury goods instead of illicit drugs.

"Tabitha, do Douglas and Patrick get caught?" asked Martin, dreading the obvious answer.

Tabitha's voice went quiet in a way Martin didn't like. "No, not during this smuggling trip, but it catches up with them. A year later, Douglas and Patrick were caught smuggling two million pounds worth of cocaine hidden in stuffed teddy bears."

"Oh God," whispered Martin in horror. "Don't tell me the next stop is us visiting Douglas in prison."

"I'm Afraid so, Captain."

"Do I have to see this? I promise not to top myself," pleaded Martin.

"It's against protocol to stop now. We're seeing this Jimmy Stewart thing through," said Tabitha apologetically. Then suddenly, she flashed him a smile that was too wide to be sincere. "Put on a brave face, Martin. Think of this as a painful band aid you need to rip off as quickly as possible. There's no point in delaying the inevitable. Besides, heaven doesn't pay me overtime to dither like this."

And with that, Tabitha and Martin disappeared with a pop! and left Patrick and Douglas to continue packing the cocaine-filled hourglasses late into the night.