Tadfield. Kitchen of the old farmhouse at Crowley's Croll Farm. Uriel, Ammun, and Crowley are seated around the table, upon which components for rack mounted servers are placed.

So what's up with the human computer stuff, Crowley?

I'm setting up a surveillance system for mobile phone traffic. One for Heaven, one for Hell.

There is a long moment of silence as the two angels sit back in their chairs and regard Crowley.

Is that really possible?

Don't know yet, Uriel. We'll have to find out.

Crowley, was this approved by your boss?

Crowley's face twists into a snarl.

What do you think? She liked the idea so much she tormented me until I nearly discorporated?

Sorry. 'Twas a really stupid question. But what if she finds out? Look what she did to the parish hall.

That's the main reason we're placing the Hell rig inside St. Cecil's. Consecrated ground. Got Mr. Pickersgill to sign on. There's a bricked-up crypt he thinks we could use to keep the setup out of sight. That's where you come in, Uriel.

Ah. I can get it through the wall.

Yes. That little talent of yours. DeeDee can do it, too, but of course she can't set foot inside the church. I'll show you how to assemble it and check the set-up.

Won't it require some sort of electrical power cable?

Crowley smiles snakily.

That's where my little talent comes in. It will be powered and connected because I want it to be.

The two angels again regard him silently. Crowley may be a snake, but he's still a Seraph, with powers not possessed by Thrones and archangels.

Uriel, you haven't been using your Heaven phone, have you?

No. It's in the drawer over there.

Let's have it.

Uriel rises and fetches the phone, hands it to Crowley. He taps it, and it comes alight.

You keep it charged?

No, I don't.

Uriel thinks a moment.

Heaven phones don't need an electrical connection, the same way your server system doesn't?

Good call, Uriel. Might be interesting to find out who's managing the system.

Probably that bastard Quartermaster Angel. I'll see if The Twins know.

That would be good. Best not to ask them directly about Heaven's phone system, of course. In case this all goes south in a hurry.

Trust me, Crowley. My wings are the ones that will get clipped if they start connecting dots.

The demon has been tapping and scrolling through the phone as he speaks, silently noting the lack of passcode protection.

I'd like to borrow this for a day, Uriel. To show my human partners so we can set up the surveillance system more easily. I see you haven't gotten any calls or messages for awhile.

No. The Twins have promised to keep me alerted if anything develops regarding Aziraphale and Tadfield. But I haven't heard from them since we had tea after Gabriel's tantrum.

Crowley looks up briefly.

You got some sort of rogering from Gabriel after the parish hall incident, right?

Uriel makes a face.

Gabriel thinks he's spanked me by making me stay on duty here. I quote: "It is apparent that your surveillance abilities are in want of improvement, Uriel. You will continue your Tadfield assignment until I see evidence of progress."

What about you, Ammun?

Oh, I'm supposed to be hanging out in London, helping out Uriel. Haven't heard a peep from anyone.

Aren't you curious why they didn't summon you to report about Uriel's screw-up?

Got a cagey call from Michael right after Gabriel returned from Tadfield. Asked what I knew about happenings in Tadfield. I said I hadn't heard anything exciting from that sleepy little backwater. Just those pissants Aziraphale and his demon Crowley still fookin' each other.

Crowley smirks.

They aren't tracking you? They can't tell you were lying?

Prevaricating.

Right. Prevaricating. Can I take a look at your Heaven phone, Ammun?

Nope. Left it in London.

Good. Keep it there. Same model as Uriel's?

Don't know.

Crowley has been maintaining a bland expression throughout, does not so much as blink, let alone roll his eyes.

I'll swing by sometime to have a look at it.

Uriel has been looking puzzled.

Crowley, just how does cell phone tracking work?

Couple of ways. First, humans have built a system to register and track geographic location. They call it "GPS," for "Global Positioning System." Handy for navigating around the planet.

Oh. So that's how my car's navigation system works?

Yep. Also very handy if someone is interested in where you are, where you've been, and where you might be going.

Don't they object to such constant surveillance?

Surprisingly, most seem to think it's a neat trick. Humans are overly trusting that those doing the surveilling are good actors. They never learn. Just like some angels.

Point taken. Years ago I'd have whipped out my sword and fried your demonic ass for a remark like that. Now . . .

Uriel sighs. Crowley smirks:

Some of us do live and learn, don't we? But to continue about tracking. Even if the GPS is turned off, a phone can still be traced from where it contacts the towers.

Towers?

Phone transmissions don't just go off into the firmament. The humans have set up a network of towers to catch the signals and route them where they're supposed to go. A phone contacts the transmission tower closest to it. These contacts are logged. And the logs can be consolidated to show movement and travels.

My word, the amount of record keeping must be extraordinary. Half of humanity has a mobile phone!

They use their computers to manage the data, of course. And it's not just phones. You know about their Internet, of course?

Uriel looks indignant.

Of course I know.

Use it much?

Well, Wikipedia, mostly. And finding gallery openings and shows. And restaurant reviews.

She looks a trifle defensive.

Ammun and I enjoy human food.

And liquor.

Crowley gives a significant look to Ammun.

Kief? Hashish?

Of course. One of the benefits of being stuck for millennia in North Africa and the Middle East.

Find a supplier from an Internet search, by any chance? If you did, someone knows all about it.

Uriel and Ammun look uneasy.

I don't suppose you have any around right now?

The shisha's in the living room.

Crowley snaps his fingers, and a small box appears in his hand. He smiles snakily.

Let's go light it.

Ammun laughs.

Trust a demon to have the good stuff.