Chapter 36

Arabella whimpered pathetically when Eddie tried to move her.

'Please Arabella, keep quiet', he whispered against her ear. 'If Hughes catches me in here we're both in trouble.

He manoeuvred her as gently as he could into a sitting position against the roughly rendered wall. Then he poured some stale but blissfully cool water between her broken lips. He poured too fast, however, and she began to choke. The violence of her coughing set off a burning fire in her damaged ribs and she gave a deep moan of pain. He hushed her consolingly and wiped her face with a clean handkerchief trying to avoid the worst of her cuts and bruises.

'I'm going to untie your hands to make you a bit more comfortable. If you don't try to run again then he won't notice until it's over and by then he'll be too happy to care.' His knife cut through her bonds. 'What on earth possessed you to try to run away? Why would you do something so foolish?'

'You must let me go', she begged. 'We have to stop the train. Please.' Her voice was hoarse, desperate. 'People are going to die!'

'But don't you see?' He replied earnestly. 'In death, these men, these valiant representatives of the lower orders, will be of much greater value to their country than they could ever have been in life.'

Arabella's eyes widened in shock. 'But these men are innocents. They have families who love them and depend upon them! How could you be so wicked?'

'As a woman you cannot be expected to know anything of international politics nor truly comprehend the full import of our situation but Arabella you must trust me. We know what we're doing. This truly is in the best interests of our great country. Once it's over, you'll see, I promise you.' Gone was the young man who appeared trapped in a situation of someone else's making. In its place was a true believer, a zealot. But although his attitude was patronising he was clearly desperate for her to give him her approval; instead she was simply revolted.

'Please leave me alone now. I want to sleep.' Arabella turned her face to the wall, overwhelmed by the worst kind of lassitude and despair. As Eddie left the room silent tears began to fall.

At factories, workshops, and foundries all over the city men in the pay of the Peaky Blinders began to pass the word. 'Tools down lads, we're calling a wildcat strike. Everyone out now! Free beer for everyone.'

The bad feeling which the Blinder's had sowed amongst the workers with their coordinated citywide campaign of persecution and unfair dismissals meant that the men needed very little encouragement to walk out, and even those who were concerned about the loss of pay were persuaded by the offer of free drink. Men streamed out of their workplaces and into the local pubs where the owners had been paid well to keep the beer flowing. No one would notice anything tonight. Not the charges being laid, not the men dying, not even the sound of a train being derailed.

Along the spur line leading from the BSA factory where the loaded freight trucks were waiting, Arthur, John, and a small group of the most reliable Blinders' men were fixing explosives in key places. The tension in the group was palpable and Curly, loyal bagman though he was, was becoming visibly distressed, chaffing his hands together and muttering his usual half-soaked nonsense.

'There are good men on board, Arthur', Charlie said softly, his face pale and drawn by the lamp light. He was the only one who dared to voice his disquiet though it was clearly shared by all those present. 'We should warn them.'

'Six innocent men have to die tonight when we blow up this train.' Arthur's voice was heavy with guilt. 'No way around it, Charlie.' The men exchanged worried glances. They had all killed before, in war and in peace, but this was something else, this was betraying a brother in arms. 'This is all on me and John', he continued. 'We picked 'em out ourselves and we'll do what's needed so the rest of you men should to get going now. Lay low until we call on you. If you need anything send word to Polly via the Garrison.'

In silence, Arthur and John watched their colleagues file away, dark shadows against the night. They stood side by side too ashamed of what they were about to do to meet each other's eyes.

'What time is it?' John asked.

Arthur checked his pocket watch. 'Five and twenty to ten. The men will couple the locomotive in 15 minutes.'

'And then we just need to wait and pray.' John took a deep, comforting draw on his hip flask.

'Yes brother. We wait and we pray.'

When Michael and his two companions reached the area where Arabella was being held they went on foot through the trees to an old sheep fold where their observer was waiting. The night was still, and close, and dark. The only sounds were their careful and muffled footsteps, and the calls of the nocturnal creatures disturbed by their passage. Sid, a Birmingham lad born and bred, was greatly relieved to see them.

'Thank god you've made it', he hissed. 'I was starting to go out of my head. We need to get her out of there right quick.'

'What's happened?' Michael demanded.

'I'm not sure. I heard shouting and a gunshot. Then nothing until Hughes came back Just before dusk.'

'You think she's been shot?'

'I don't know but I doubt it means anything good! There are three of them in there, best I can tell, and they're well-armed. Do you have the plans?'

Michael handed them over with a curt nod. 'We had to break in to the council offices to get them. That's what took us so long.'

Crouching down behind a half collapsed drystone wall to hide the light of their torches the men poured over the building layout. Sid pointed out the areas where he thought Arabella was most likely to be being held.

'I didn't dare get too close', he said softly. 'There's bugger all cover and I didn't want to tip them off but they're coming and going through this entrance here. Everywhere else looks blocked off except one possible place round the back. I heard some noises from over there earlier but I couldn't tell what the fuck was going on.'

Pressed for time, the group rapidly put together a plan. Before they moved out Michael reminded them that he wanted to be the one to kill Hughes. Grunting noncommittally the men headed off in to the darkness.

Deep below the claggy Richmond ground, Tommy was experiencing a bright moment of triumph. They had made it through into the vaults. He stood, bone weary, in the middle of the room in which Alfie had first appraised the Russian jewels. Around him, in the light cast by his oil-lamp, glittered a king's ransom in jewels. More to the point, they represented a beloved wife's ransom. He was almost light-headed with relief. For the first time he could believe that things would be alright.

If anyone fancies it there is now a Peaky Blinders' discussion forum at www. fanfiction forum/Peaky-Blinders/214498/ (remove the spaces).