Tadfield. Back room of the bookshop. Aziraphale is seated in his armchair, reading a book as he sips a glass of claret. Crowley breezes in, sends his overcoat to the closet. Stoops and gives Aziraphale a smooch.

You've just started on that bottle, I see.

Yes. You're just in time.

Aziraphale uncrosses his legs as he twists around to the little table to pour the demon a generous glassful. Crowley plops himself on the carpet and leans back against the angel's legs, rustling about a bit to get comfortable between them. Aziraphale hands him his glass of wine. The demon sits with his other hand around the angel's ankle as Aziraphale strokes his hair.

Long day, Crowley?

Unhhhhh . . . Do keep reading, Angel. Don't let me interrupt. I need to relax and think.

They sit in companionable silence while they work their way through the bottle of claret.

What are you reading this time, by the way?

Tom Wolfe's last novel, Back to Blood.

Any good?

Riveting. Features a character rather similar to how I imagine your Russian business associate. A shrewd and ruthless criminal making millions in art forgeries.

Ruthless doesn't begin to describe my business partner. He admires Beelzebub.

Oh dear lord.

We have him to thank for Heaven deciding to pay up on the ransom for their personnel records. And me to thank for upping the ante to one hundred million pounds.

And Heaven paid?

Oh yes. We made Gabriel an offer he couldn't refuse.

One hundred million pounds worth?

Said pounds now working their way through a whole lot of cryptocurrency accounts and being ground into cash and equipment. And keeping our network happy with the bonuses they've earned. The Chinese crew were particularly gleeful. A good day's work, I can tell you.

Crowley curls both arms around Aziraphale's legs as if to snuggle between them.

What's worrying you, Crowley?

What makes you think I'm worried?

You get clingy when you're anxious. What exactly did you do to Gabriel?

You recollect his visit to Tadfield as a statue?

Of course.

And that I promised Mr. Pickersgill that I would see to the installation of better audio equipment prior to the Christmas fete?

Go on.

I also installed a video camera monitoring system. With night vision capability.

How does that work, exactly?

The cameras act as infrared floodlights when ambient daylight levels are low. Human eyes cannot see in infrared.

Can demons?

Well, as you know, we angels and demons can see quite well in the dark. But if demons could see in infrared, we'd have to be wearing dark glasses all the time. Hell being the kind of place it is.

Oh. Yes. I suppose so.

Guessing that's why neither Beelzebub nor Gabriel noticed the cameras.

My range of vision was restricted while I was a statue. Likely so was Gabriel's. And my guess is that he had no clue about what sort of things the humans were installing. Gabriel routinely refers to human artifacts as "material objects" and seldom gets more precise than that. Probably thought the cameras were some kind of lamps.

You're quite likely right. At any rate, to continue. The cameras caught the complete scene of Beelzebub's visit to Gabriel before she discorporated him and destroyed the hall.

My word.

Crowley flicks his fingers and a phone appears in his hand. He taps it a few times, hands it to Aziraphale. An ancient language tinkles through the speaker. The angel sits as if stunned when the recording ends.

Oh good lord. Gabriel loves Beelzebub?

You noted the scene where she gives him a little hand job? That's the clip that my associates sent to Gabriel last night. And to The Twins.

The Twins?

Gabriel had summoned them, along with Michael and that angel you call Quartermaster, to have a little confab in his office. They wound up also summoning the Metatron. Who advised them to pay the ransom. And also chided The Twins on spending hours having sex when they should be working.

No! You don't say!

I do say. Gabriel had just given them an assignment to go to Tadfield and question you. After hearing Metatron, he cancelled that and ordered them to Housekeeping.

They're very proud angels. How did they react to that?

At that point my associates transmitted the video to them and Gabriel. They'd been listening in on the whole meeting, of course. We'd hacked The Twins' phones, and the mikes were active.

Fortuitous timing.

Perhaps. One of my Russian associate's most endearing talents is an ability to recognize where and when to apply pressure. The other associate is adept at online systems. Was able to cue up and transmit the video very quickly. A delightfully formidable pair of humans.

Did Michael or Quartermaster see the video?

Doubtful. They may have heard the audio, however. Gabriel demanded that The Twins erase the file. Then for good measure he destroyed their phones. So we don't know what transpired after that. Other than that Quartermaster contacted us to arrange for payment of the ransom.

Uriel came in to the bookshop today and told me that The Twins were being transferred to China to assist Xuanwu in dealing with the demon Daji. They were pleased as punch. She said Michael commended her on her report of Daji's reappearance on Earth.

Aziraphale grins.

She also said she felt obliged to thank you for your uncharacteristic sharing of information.

Daji puts the "F" in "Fiend," Angel. Didn't want her anywhere near you. Nasty even by demonic standards. The more eyes watching her, the better. Even if they're angel eyes.

Has Beelzebub seen the video?

Oh yes.

Are you actually not going to restore the Heavenly Host's personnel file, and sell it to Beelzebub instead?

Changed my mind about that. Didn't think it likely that Beelzebub would pony up for the information. Not Hell's style at all. They'd much prefer to wring it out of me out like a tube of toothpaste. So decided to up the cost for the angels, and let them have their personnel records back. Minus the mobile phone logs and data downloads, of course.

Why not the phone logs?

To protect Uriel and Ammun. They're pretty good about tracking security, but it only takes one slip.

Guessing Michael would be keen about that sort of information. She always seems to know where the bodies are buried.

And the phone logs would tell her.

They sit silently for some while. Then Aziraphale murmurs:

So you stole a march on Beelzebub. Gave Heaven back their records. Ratted out Daji. And you're protecting two rogue angels.

Crowley shivers.

Haven't exactly been the model demon lately, now have I. Won't be pretty when I wind up in Hell again.

On the bright side, Crowley, you extracted one hundred million pounds from the Heavenly Host. You haven't yet lost your demonic touch.

"Yet"? Aziraphale, now is not the time for your theory about how deep down inside I'm really a good person.

Don't get shirty, Crowley. The other 99.99% of you is just as wily, sly, demonic, and wicked as ever. No worries, as the human children say.

I love it when you whisper sweet nothings, Aziraphale. Let's have some champagne.

Aziraphale extracts himself from the chair and Crowley's arms, magically changes from day clothing to his ratty cut velvet dressing gown as he fetches a chilled bottle from the little refrigerator and two flutes from an antique cupboard with cut glass panels. Crowley in the meantime has rearranged the two giant pillows from the settee against the front of Aziraphale's armchair. Magics away his shoes and garments to the valet off by the corner closet, settles into a comfortable sitting position with back to the pillows. Aziraphale sits close beside him, hands him a flute, pours it full of champagne and then serves himself. They clink glasses.

Bollocks to Heaven.

Bollocks to Hell.

Heaven. Earlier that day. Michael, Quartermaster and St. Isidore are clustered behind Quartermaster's console, expressions taut and intense. Angel heads go up throughout the vast office as Quartermaster and Isidore give a mighty cheer, leap from their chairs and start doing a jig around the desk.

Within the hour a special edition of the Celestial Observer comes out with the headline:

ST. ISIDORE MIRACLE

Hacked Data Restored