London. Dawn. A nondescript office building in north London. Evgeny, Bohdan, and Crowley are seated around Bohdan's console in the computer lab at Triple S Security. Bohdan extracts an iPhone from a Faraday bag.

Gave her the latest model, I see.

That's unprecedented for low-ranking staff. According to what I hear.

Shall we take a guess that the passcode is 432836?*

Bohdan keys in the code, and the phone grants him access. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

That certainly makes things easier. They never learn, do they? Crowley, can you detect the encryption key?

Crowley touches the phone with one hand, and one of Bohdan's screens with another. A block of numbers and letters appears.

How the fuck do you do that?

Maths are intuitive to me.

Crowley's eyes stare off vacantly into the distance as a reflective look appears on his face.

I used to help build nebulae.

The demon snarls as his face contorts in pain and he crouches over in his chair. His breathing becomes rapid and shallow and heat radiates from his body.

Bohdan lunges forward and fumbles hurriedly to open certain drawer, grabs a vaporizer with a bowl already packed with Crowley's special blend, ignites it and places it against one of the demon's clenched fists. Crowley grasps the little machine and takes a huge lungful as the smoke wafts out. It takes the whole bowlful before he's relaxed and stretched out in the ergonomic executive chair. Bohdan and Evgeny sit motionless as rats in the gaze of a cobra and watch him the entire time, exchanging only occasional glances.

Thanks.

Need more?

Nah. I'm good.

Earbuds? You can space out while we load up this phone.

Sure. Can you cue up "Seven"? I've only listened to it a couple of times.

No prob. Here you go. Want some cheese crisps?

Got any that won't turn my fingers orange?

These white cheddar ones are great.

Bohdan hands Crowley a giant partly-emptied bag, and the demon slowly munches as he listens to the music. But behind his dark glasses, his eyes are only half-closed as he intently watches Bohdan's operations.


Tadfield Manor, early morning in the work day. Mary is behind her desk, Evans and Crowley in comfy chairs in front.

Any problems with the party crowd last night?

A bit noisy at first. But they knocked off at around 10:00 and we got no complaints from the other guests. The head of housekeeping left just before you came in now. She said there wasn't anything for her staff to do in the ballroom. In fact, it looked cleaner than it's been since the remodel.

Good.

Slight problem with one of the bins, though. Plastic lid somewhat melted. Full of ash, which the disposal company won't like. They expect everything to be bagged.

I'll send DeeDee over to put the ash into bags, so they know what to do next time. Does a replacement lid need to be procured?

I'm checking on that. You never know with equipment.

If finding a new lid turns out to be awkward, just replace the whole damned bin. I've really called this little convo to discuss Karen. She's asked me if she could go to school to learn helicopter mechanics.

Evans sits a bit straighter in his seat as he speaks to Crowley.

Did she make this request yesterday, by any chance?

No. Last week. What happened yesterday?

A bit of a kerfluffle in the shop, sir. I had to fire the new mechanic.

Jack? The middle-aged guy?

Yes.

Go on. Let's hear the whole story.

I didn't see what happened. Will and Tommy said Jack has been nosing round Karen ever since he came on here. But she warn't interested. Yesterday he got a bit fresh and copped a feel. She gave him a smack in the chops that sent him staggering. That's when the yelling and shouting started. I heard the ruckus and started out of my office, but I didn't get there in time. Tommy said he and Will got between the two. Will said Jack made some nasty crack about Karen and niggers. Will said that warn't no way to talk about workmates. Jack got a bit truculent. You remember he's a big one compared to the two boys. Tommy thought he were about to swing at Will. But then the Erics come round. Will says one Eric put his hand around Jack's throat and the other hand on his nuts. The other Eric grabbed Jack's fist and twisted his arm around his back as nice as you please. Tommy says the Eric with the throat hold gave Jack such a look, it caused him to go limp like he were about to faint. Tommy, he saw it face on, said he'd have pissed himself if it were him Eric had been lookin' at. Eyes went all funny. Dark, like. And grinnin' like Death debating whether to rip Jack from crotch to neck, or neck to crotch.

Crowley murmurs,

They do it both ways. Eric didn't pull a knife, did he?

Oh no. I'll have none o' that in my shop. Would have fired the Erics on the spot.

Be sure to tell them that.

Are you saying they're carrying, Mr. Crowley?

Not exactly. Just tell them, no knives.

They must come from a pretty rough place, sir.

"Rough" doesn't begin to describe it. They'll do what you say, Evans, because they don't want to go back there. Let's just say they're good in a fight. Continue your story.

Very good, sir. That's when I come up. The Erics released Jack and let him fall to the floor, then hopped over to Karen. She looked a fair bit shook up. I told her to go to the canteen for a cuppa. One Eric put an arm round her waist, the other one put an arm across her shoulder, and they led her off. I stayed to talk to Will and Tommy. Then I fired Jack and told him he had half an hour to clear out. Went to find Karen and the Erics. That was when she said she wanted to go to school to become an aircraft mechanic. Told her she warn't to have no more bother from Jack, not to feel she had to clear out on that score. She said she wasn't running away. Just thought working on your helicopters seemed more interesting as a career. I were skeptical, sir. But seein' as how you say she already mentioned it to you last week, maybe it warn't just a reaction to the dust-up.

Everyone went back to the job for the rest of the day?

Oh yeah. Will and Tommy took Karen to the Bull & Fiddle after work. Along with their girlfriends, I mean.

But now we're down one mechanic. Mary, what's the current list of applicants look like?

I have a spreadsheet right here, Master Crowley.

Mary taps her keyboard, turns the large monitor so Evans and Crowley can view it.

Sort out the white males, display everyone else.

A few moments later, the display changes.

Sort by experience. Let's see who floats to the top.

The three examine the wide screen.

Evans, you want to interview the top six, or more than that?

I'd like to review the top dozen, Mr. Crowley, and pick six from that lot for a closer look.

Hire three. We can afford it. Busy season coming up. That way we can get past losing Jack and sending Karen off to helicopter school.

Thank you, Mr. Crowley.

Where's Jack off to, by the way?

His home turf's up in Liverpool. I imagine we've seen the last o' him, sir.

Let me know if you hear otherwise. And now, I must be off. I'll talk to Karen. Good work, both of you.

Crowley rises and blows out the door.

Ciao.

Evans and Mary look at one another, simultaneously release their breath.

Whew. Never a dull moment round here, eh, Mary m' gal? Do you suppose our number one candidate wears one of those thingamabobs?

Do you mean a hijab?

Those head scarves mooslim women wear?

Yes. Let's hope so, Jimmy. Diversity is good management practice these days.


*432836 = HEAVEN