Fear No Fate

Chapter Four: Camden Town

Theo stood at the window of her room, smoking cigarette after cigarette to keep her hands busy and nerves at bay. A few days ago, Tommy left for London to conduct business and oversee the retrieval of her belongings. She'd written him the address to the Waldorf, her room number, the combination to the safe to collect jewels, money, passports, and a note to leave the concierge.

Tommy asked for additional reservations that should be cancelled, friends that might be expecting either of them, a driver, security – anyone that might miss them. But she found she could not give any. She'd not scheduled any visits upon Hans' request, and he'd finished all his meetings by that fateful afternoon. How simple it seemed, until she remembered that this trip had been designed with the end goal of her own murder.

The thought made her sick with grief, and burn with anger.

A fool he was to have underestimated her. But how doomed was she to have survived. Theo imagined what might happen if she unburdened the Shelby's and returned to her parents. Would they welcome her? What story could she give, that did not make her a prime suspect in the disappearance of Hans' body?

And if she gave the truth. Theo could hear her father's heart break even then, could feel her mother's disgust. The middle of three children, she'd never been a favorite of either parent. Perhaps if she'd been born a second son, but she was the first of two daughters. She knew that no matter the story told, no matter the circumstance, they would not afford themselves the risk of defending her in such a controversy that would surely become an international conflict.

The note she gave to Tommy felt like signing her own confession. When their disappearance would finally be questioned, the only evidence would be written by her hand. But Tommy was right – she needed time, to heal and think up a new life for herself. No person would allow her to board a ship across the Atlantic in her condition without asking questions she was afraid she wouldn't be able to answer.

As for leaving at all, it absolutely terrified her. She'd never been on her own. Her entire life Theo had always had a family, and maids, and society to care for her, tell her what to do, where to go, how to act. Her gilded cage was now wide open, but she was paralyzed by the idea of making her own way.

Theo stubbed out her cigarette into the crystal ashtray resting on the window ledge, and turned to address the knock on the door. She thought it might be the Shelby's strange doctor again, who'd visited the first afternoon of her arrival and insisted that she return to check on her once more. The 'doctor' being a strangely dressed elderly woman that smelled of herbs and smoke. She spoke softly in a foreign language and left a jar of salve for her to use. It smelled quite strongly but provided much relief to Theo's injuries.

But it wasn't the doctor who opened the door and stepped inside, but Polly, dressed sharply in a black skirt suit and high heels. She turned her nose up and sniffed the air, grimacing a bit as she said, "Bit stale in here, isn't it?"

Theo refrained from rolling her eyes, and turned to push the window open a bit wider for Polly's pleasure. Tommy's aunt, she'd discovered, was a hard woman, and had not been afraid to remind her that she was a liability and every growing moment of her time there had potential to be very bad for business. What exactly the business was Theo had yet to discover, but she'd gathered enough to guess its legitimacy might be slightly questionable. The Shelby's clearly weren't the type to go to the police when a problem arose; she didn't imagine they would tend to stick to corporate law to conduct their operation.

She wasn't in any position to judge. And Polly wasn't necessarily wrong. But it served as a reminder that until she could get on a ship, she was outcast from all circles, even the shadier sorts.

Polly's careful eyes moved around the room, landing on the collection of untouched meal trays gathering on a small round table in a far corner. "When's the last time you ate, girl?" Theo herself wasn't sure. She had a hard time gathering the courage to leave the room, and so the nervous maids left trays for her outside the door. She didn't have the heart to ignore their effort, so she brought them inside and sat them on the table. But even the smallest bites of food squeezed their way painfully down her throat and sat sour in her stomach, so she avoided it as best she could.

Theo watched as Polly stepped over, picked at the items of food, and scoffed. "This is what the idiots are bringing you?" she asked. "They should know better. Porridge and broth, I told them. It's not that fucking difficult."

The older woman whipped around the room, pulling curtains back from the windows and ripping sheets from the bed. "You've had enough pouting, Theodora," she announced. "It's time to move on. What's done is done, and if you don't harden up, you'll never survive America." She stopped in front of Theo, ripping the cigarette she was about to light from between her lips and shoving a towel into her open arms. "Go bathe, you smell."

Theo could only watch with amusement as Polly pivoted, stopping to toss one more blanket onto a pile of growing laundry before she headed to the door. "I'll have someone bring you a proper meal. And for heaven's sake, get out of this room. Go for a walk in the garden, it's a nice day."

"Thank you." Her voice was little more than a crack and rattle, but it stopped Polly on her way out the door, for the slightest moment.

Tommy stood at the edge of the dock, a cap low over his eyes and cigarette hanging from his lips, and surveyed his men as they worked to load a barge with their latest shipment. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a watch to quickly glance at the time, nodding to himself. The Blinders he sent to the Waldorf would be just about finished. He could finish this Camden Town business and join Arthur at Eden Club before dinner.

Tommy heard him before he saw him, or felt his presence at his side. The slow and leisurely steps of a man who owned the world, or at least this part of it. When a coat sleeve brushed up against his, Tommy sucked in one last breath of smoke, and tossed his cigarette into the canal. "Good day, Alfie."

"Yeah it is, innit?" the man said, eyes focused on something in the distance. "Yeah, you know what, Tommy boy, I knew it was going to be a good day from the moment I woke up. You know why? Because last night it was quite warm, right, so I slept with my window open. And when I woke, there was a little bird waiting for me, right at my window. A bird, Tommy! And it spoke to me. Do you want to know what it said?"

Tommy's fists clenched at his side, the only sign that he was perturbed by Alfie's proximity and instigation. The Jew delighted in it, turning to face Tommy in a wide stance, leaning in close, and holding a finger up to his face. His leaden blue eyes shined with amusement as he said, "You've got royalty in your home."

Alfie was so close he could smell the rum on him, nearly feel the tickle of his overgrown beard. He was watching, waiting for the reaction that would give him away. But the thing with Alfie was, he already knew the answer to any question he asked, or didn't ask. "Now where did you hear a thing like that?" Tommy deadpanned.

"A little bird Tommy, I told ya!" Alfie leaned back, resting both hands on the head of his cane. "It also said you've covered up the murder of someone important. A future Earl?" He tsked. "Right, that could be quite bad for you."

Tommy clenched his jaw in frustration, mind running through the faces of his staff, wondering which of them he would have to kill. "What do you want, Alfie?"

"I want us to trust each other!" Alfie opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. "What's bad for you is bad for me, innit? I'd never betray you, mate!"

He scoffed, pulling another cigarette from its case. "For the right price."

Alfie fumbled for words, looking for all the world like he was completely shocked by the notion and not shocked at all. "Well, Tommy, now that you have opened the door…fifty thousand pounds."

"Fuck off."

"Well you're asking quite a lot for our silence, aren't ya? Now I myself am not a talkative man, right, but these other fucking sodomites…" Alfie gestured to his men scattered around the shipping yard, loading and unloading alongside the Blinders. "Big mouths, the lot of them," he shrugged.

"Twenty thousand."

"Now if you're just gonna be fucking disrespectful, right, I'll go to the coppers right fucking now."

Tommy wiped his hand down his face, which had begun to heat with the anger he was having trouble hiding. "Thirty-five thousand."

"Tommy-"

"Thirty-five thousand, Alfie, and that's fucking it," he snapped, turning to face the man. "And that buys us eyes and ears. I want to know when they come looking for her. I want to know who it is, what they're asking, and who they're asking. You got it?"

Alfie watched Tommy closely, assessing his wide cobalt eyes and flushing skin. While his voice had not raised a single octave, his breath came in quiet staccato huffs. "Forty thousand," he tested the Blinder one last time.

"Fuck!" Tommy threw his head back, absolutely finished with this entire ordeal. "Fine. You know what? Fine, Alfie. Forty fucking thousand and your word that you will hold up your end."

"Deal," Alfie grabbed his hand in a rough shake, then turned back to the canal. "Right, you ain't gotta worry about me and mine, mate, so much as yours. You've got a stable hand with big lips, yeah, that like to flap, all the way to my window. And Tommy?"

"What?" the Blinder groaned.

He barked a laugh. "She must have pair on her to have you so tightly fucking wound. Like a coil, you are. Keep your head about you, Tom. Don't want it popping off!"

Alfie tapped his cane twice on the wooden boards of the dock, walking away without another word. Leaving Tommy in a daze, forty thousand pounds poorer, and staring out into the river. In the shade the water was dark, like the ocean at night. Like the color of a pair eyes he was beginning to miss.