Good Omens

forty policemen have gone to sleep—”
    â€œOkay,” said Crowley. “That’s it. That’s it. It was worth a try. Let’s get out of here.”
    â€œIn thirty seconds you will wake up,” said Aziraphale, to the entranced ex-nun. “And you will have had a lovely dream about whatever you like best, and—”
    â€œYes, yes, fine,” sighed Crowley. “Now can we go?”
    NO ONE NOTICED THEM leaving. The police were too busy herding in forty adrenaline-drunk, fighting-mad management trainees. Three police vans had gouged tracks in the lawn, and Aziraphale made Crowley back up for the first of the ambulances, but then the Bentley swished into the night. Behind them the summerhouse and gazebo were already ablaze.
    â€œWe’ve really left that poor woman in a dreadful situation,” said the angel.
    â€œYou think?” said Crowley, trying to hit a hedgehog and missing. “Bookings will double, you mark my words. If she plays her cards right, sorts out the waivers, ties up all the legal bits. Initiative training with real guns? They’ll form queues.”
    â€œWhy are you always so cynical?”
    â€œI said. Because it’s my job .”
    They drove in silence for a while. Then Aziraphale said, “You’d think he’d show up, wouldn’t you? You’d think we could detect him in some way.”
    â€œHe won’t show up. Not to us. Protective camouflage. He won’t even know it, but his powers will keep him hidden from prying occult forces.”
    â€œOccult forces?”
    â€œYou and me,” explained Crowley.
    â€œI’m not occult,” said Aziraphale. “Angels aren’t occult. We’re ethereal.”
    â€œWhatever,” snapped Crowley, too worried to argue.
    â€œIs there some other way of locating him?”
    Crowley shrugged. “Search me,” he said. “How much experience do you think I’ve got in these matters? Armageddon only happens once, you know. They don’t let you go around again until you get it right.”
    The angel stared out at the rushing hedgerows.
    â€œIt all seems so peaceful,” he said. “How do you think it will happen?”
    â€œWell, thermonuclear extinction has always been very popular. Although I must say the big boys are being quite polite to each other at the moment.”
    â€œAsteroid strike?” said Aziraphale. “Quite the fashion these days, I understand. Strike into the Indian Ocean, great big cloud of dust and vapor, goodbye all higher life forms.”
    â€œWow,” said Crowley, taking care to exceed the speed limit. Every little bit helped.
    â€œDoesn’t bear thinking about it, does it,” said Aziraphale gloomily.
    â€œAll the higher life forms scythed away, just like that.”
    â€œTerrible.”
    â€œNothing but dust and fundamentalists.”
    â€œThat was nasty.”
    â€œSorry. Couldn’t resist it.”
    They stared at the road.
    â€œMaybe some terrorist—?” Aziraphale began.
    â€œNot one of ours,” said Crowley.
    â€œOr ours,” said Aziraphale. “Although ours are freedom fighters, of course.”
    â€œI’ll tell you what,” said Crowley, scorching rubber on the Tadfield bypass. “Cards on the table time. I’ll tell you ours if you tell me yours.”
    â€œAll right. You first.”
    â€œOh, no. You first.”
    â€œBut you’re a demon.”
    â€œYes, but a demon of my word, I should hope.”
    Aziraphale named five political leaders. Crowley named six. Three names appeared on both lists.
    â€œSee?” said Crowley. “It’s just like I’ve always said. They’re cunning buggers, humans. You can’t trust them an inch.”
    â€œBut I don’t think any of ours have any big plans afoot,” said Aziraphale. “Just minor acts of ter— political protest,” he corrected.
    â€œAh,” said Crowley bitterly. “You mean none of this cheap, mass-produced murder? Just personal service, every bullet individually fired by skilled craftsmen?”
    Aziraphale didn’t rise to it. “What are we going to do now?”
    â€œTry and get some sleep.”
    â€œYou don’t need sleep. I don’t need sleep. Evil never sleeps, and Virtue is ever-vigilant.”
    â€œEvil in general, maybe. This specific part of it has got into the habit of getting its head down