It was dark by the time Thomas stepped out of the Garrison after celebrating with Arthur at the newly purchased pub. As promised, Thomas delivered the payment of six thousand pounds to Harry. The former landlord took the packet of money with a sigh of regret, but stashed it in his pocket, anyway. A large part of Thomas didn't care if the man didn't like the decision the Peaky Blinders were taking over his pub.
At least Harry didn't have to pay for protection anymore, unlike the other pubs and businesses in the area. Nor would he have to pay for the alcohol and taxes each year. All in all, Thomas reasoned, he did Harry a favor. Arthur would be in charge of the pub while Harry kept to his duties and help with the books. Plus, it would help Thomas keep a better eye on Grace. He hadn't seen her in several days. According to Harry, Grace took several days off for a family emergency.
That sparked suspicion in Thomas. He remembered their conversation a few weeks ago when he penned her as a wealthy girl who got pregnant and ran away from home. It wouldn't make sense if she had a family emergency. Cheltenham was close at hand and she better return soon.
Now he had to tell Polly he bought the Garrison. She would question why he did it, like always. He'd tell her the same thing he told Arthur. The only person who wouldn't question his motives was Maze. She would simply raise an eyebrow at him and wait for an explanation when he gave it, if he gave it. Owning the pub was the first step. Once more money started flowing for the Shelby's, he wanted to buy more properties and pubs. The few the Blinders gave protection too would be next on his list.
Earlier that day, he used the family car for other business in Birmingham and stopped by the Garrison for that drink. Walking out of the pub, he walked over to his car and realized something was wrong. Leaning down, he saw slits in the tires. Cursing to himself, he leaned up and looked around for the culprit.
"Bloody kids, eh?" he heard a voice from the shadows behind him.
Turning around, Thomas watched as Sgt. Moss emerged from the shadows, a devious smirk on his pudgy face. "I'm sure the other tires are cut, too."
If Sgt. Moss hadn't been a copper, Thomas would have punched the smirk off his fucking face. He leaned against the car, his cigarette dropped unceremoniously on the wet tarmac as he stared at the copper. Sgt. Moss was one of the few Thomas couldn't bribe and it irritated him. The copper didn't wait long before he opened his mouth.
"Mr. Campbell wants an explanation. You see, Mr. Shelby, there was a rebel rouser who brought the BSA on strike. Freddie Thorne."
Thoms lit his cigarette, tossing the match in a puddle as Sgt. Moss tried to intimidate him. Inhaling, he pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing out a puff of smoke.
"I thought you promised Mr. Campbell that Freddie Thorne wouldn't come back to Birmingham," Sgt. Moss inquired, reminding Thomas of his deal with Campbell.
"I know he's in town," Thomas replied, giving a nod of his head. "I'm dealing with it."
"Mr. Campbell believed from your conversation with him you controlled these territories." Moss continued.
"Yeah, I do." He leaned forward, making his point known to Moss. "I said, I'm dealing with it."
Thomas knew the conversation wasn't over yet. There was more that Moss was sent to say to him. "I heard Freddie married your sister."
He cursed inwardly. The wolf snarled at the thinly veiled threat to his family. If the coppers knew Ada married Freddie, it was only a matter of time before they came after her. If Ada didn't leave, he would shoot Freddie himself. At that moment, he didn't care what Ada thought about it.
"Deliver Freddie Thorne to us, or we'll take your sister in as an accomplice." Sgt. Moss threatened. Thomas pushed down the surge of anger that threatened to erupt and he hoped his eyes hadn't changed color.
"She could get four years in prison or you can turn him in and she walks free," Moss continued his threat.
Thomas said nothing, but stared at Moss until the copper fidgeted. The longer he glared, the more the copper felt his life was in danger. Thomas almost wanted to let out a low growl as a warning to the Sgt. that if something happened to his family, then Thomas would come after Moss's family, regardless if the fat fuck was a cop or not. When Moss bid his goodbyes, Thomas leaned against the car for a moment longer before he growled. He turned around to give a look at the car and wanted to kick the tires before setting it on fire.
Tossing his cigarette on the ground, Thomas walked away from the car, making a mental note that it needed to be moved and the tires replaced by morning. He couldn't pin the damage on the copper, much to his dismay.
Ada Thorne was running. Running to stop her husband from shooting her brother. When she awoke that morning, the stack of money and the boat tickets were missing, as well as were her husband. In her panic, she knew her husband was up to something. She had a feeling he left to hunt down Thomas.
Clutching her slightly swollen belly, she ran down Garrison Lane to the pub, hoping to find the men there. Pushing the doors open, Ada stumbled inside, looking around the empty pub and not seeing either Freddie or Thomas. Cursing, she sat down heavily in a chair and dropped her head into her hands and sobbed quietly. Her heart ached deeply. Placing a hand on her stomach, she hoped no one died today. If only her husband would stop being stubborn and take the money and leave.
If only.
Thomas felt tired to his bones that morning as the sun rose, illuminating the city he called home. After his talk with Sgt. Moss the night before, he found himself restless and unwilling to sleep. He wandered most of the night, lost in thought and trying to figure what step to take next.
As he sat staring out at the river, the smoke from his umpteenth cigarette billowed around him as he thought. The silence was welcoming in the early morning. The water lapped at the bank of the building he commandeered. He inhaled, smelling the rot underneath the water.
He heard footsteps approach him, but he didn't move. Thomas knew who it was as soon as the person stepped into his hideaway. His eyes stayed on the building across from him as the person inched closer. He expected a talk, maybe even fist blows, but not a gun pointed at him. Thomas felt the tip of the gun press into the fabric of his hat, but he didn't move.
Thomas waited for Freddie to pull the trigger and end his life. His former friend had saved his arse during the war, and now he reasoned Freddie was there to repay him with his own bullet. His mind flashed to an image of Maze before he quickly smothered it. Thomas would walk out of here alive, even if that meant killing Freddie Thorne. The silence stretched until Thomas decided to move things along.
Freddie Thorne glared at his former best friend. As he stood there in the early morning light, he contemplated pulling the trigger. In his mind, Tommy was an obstacle to Ada and his new life. When Freddie arose that morning, he was determined to end this with Tommy. He was determined to convince Tommy that he and Ada were not leaving their home because Thomas Shelby told them to. When Polly showed up at his home a few days prior, offering money and boat tickets, it had been the last straw for Freddie.
He wasn't going to leave Birmingham unless it was in a box.
Pressing the tip of the gun into the soft fabric of Tommy's hat, his finger felt leaden, but his rage wouldn't let him back away. For a moment, Freddie Thorne hated his former best friend.
"We need to talk," Thomas said, his gaze not wavering. As he said that, he felt the barrel of the gun move away from his hat and lowered until he could see it from the corner of his eye. He could see Freddie's outline as the man lowered himself to Thomas's height.
"I came to tell you," Freddie began, dropping the stack of money and the boat tickets on the ground beside Thomas's feet, "that I am not leaving."
Thomas looked at the money, and the boat tickets and swore to himself. He speculated Polly would have given Ada and Freddie a considerable amount of money, but not boat tickets as well. His blue eyes caught the word 'New York' on the ticket. Polly tried to send Ada and Freddie to America, where they would be safe.
"Paying me to leave will not work. Polly came around. She and Ada tried to convince me to leave Birmingham," he hissed, his gun still focused on Thomas's head.
Thomas looked at the money again and conceded. He would not force Freddie to leave. If he would not leave and take Ada with him, then something else would have to be done. He didn't want to leave Ada's unborn child fatherless, but the family came before Freddie Thorne. He tossed his half lit cigarette into the cut and reached to pick up the money.
"Your honesty is appreciated and if you will not use that thing…" he tilted his head toward the gun still in Freddie's hand while shoving the money in his coat pocket. He rose to his feet, determined to end the conversation and walk away before he did anything ridiculous.
"I'm not fucking finished!" Freddie shouted, his arm rising as Thomas stood. "Sit down!" When Thomas didn't move, Freddie cocked the gun. "Sit the fuck down!" Freddie snarled at Thomas.
Thomas shot him a glare before lowering himself down to a half sitting position. He was aware the gun was loaded and it would only take Freddie seconds to pull the trigger and end his life. Then Freddie demanded something that Thomas wasn't willing to give.
"Tell me about the guns, Tommy."
Thomas swore mentally. He wasn't sure how Freddie learned about the guns, but it seemed that everyone finally learned about the robbery that took place months ago. Gossip. It was the one thing that Thomas hated the most about humans. The way they talked incessantly to anyone who would listen. The way information that needed to stay secret, never stayed secret.
He bet his entire fortune that Freddie learned about the guns from someone who worked at the BSA. Freddie had a lot of Communist contacts in the factories and someone had to let something slip. He cursed inwardly and vowed to find out who couldn't keep their fucking mouth shut.
Right now, a gun pointed at his head was his first priority. Thomas needed Freddie distracted long enough for him to get the gun out of the way. As his mind raced, he knew he had seconds to distract Freddie.
He brought up a pastime they used to indulge in when they were children and the second Freddie looked at the water, Thomas took his chance and twisted his body to kick the gun out of Freddie's loosened fingers.
Freddie fell back onto his arse and scrambled to chase after the gun. Before his fingers could wrap around the butt of the gun, Thomas pulled his gun from the shoulder gun holster and aimed at Freddie. He aimed the gun at Freddie's head, as Freddie aimed his gun at Thomas's.
Thomas had no compunction of shooting Freddie to save his sister, and he reasoned Freddie was doing the 'right' thing to kill Tommy so he could live his life with Ada. Both men contemplated pulling the trigger and ending things as they were, but Thomas didn't want to die...at least not right away.
"You loaded Ada with your bastard because she's a Shelby," Thomas accused coolly, cocking his gun. "You thought it would make you somebody. I won't let you fuck up my sister's life for you cause."
It was the same reason Thomas gave Polly when he learned Ada was pregnant with Freddie's child. Anger boiled in his stomach, the wolf growling softly in his head as a warning to Freddie. Thomas wanted to put a bullet through Freddie's head, but Freddie's next words stopped him.
Freddie panted heavily as the barrel of Tommy's gun pointed directly between his eyes. It shocked him when Thomas kicked his gun away before pulling one. His heart hammered in his chest as his former friend eyed him with disdain. When Thomas accused him of getting Ada pregnant on purpose, it appalled him that Thomas could think so little of him.
Maybe this was the way he was supposed to go. Maybe Thomas would shoot him for all the sins Freddie had committed. Freddie knew in his heart that he loved Ada just as much as she did him. Deep down, he knew that if he shot Thomas, Ada may never forgive him.
Freddie eyed him intently for a minute before lowering his gun. "My God," he breathed, "you really think that, don't you? I love her, Tommy. I've loved her since she was nine and I was twelve and she loves me the same."
Thomas stared at Freddie, contemplating Freddie's declaration. Deep down, he couldn't fault Freddie for loving someone his entire life. Whether he admitted it to himself, Thomas loved Maze just as deeply and probably had been since she was fourteen and he was eighteen. He watched as Freddie rose to his feet, tucking the gun away from his sight.
"Do you even know what the word means?" Freddie asked scornfully. "Love. Do you love anyone, Tommy?"
Silently cursing Freddie, Thomas didn't blink as he took the two steps into Freddie's personal space. "This marriage will not stand." He said nothing else as he backed away and walked off, leaving Freddie standing there alone.
It irritated him that Freddie would ask a question like that. Did he know love? Of course, he knew it. He didn't let everyone know he felt deeply. Unchecked emotions would destroy him if he let it. The only time he trusted himself to let his guard down was when he was with Maze. Regardless of the crimes he committed and the lives he could destroy, she was unwavering in her support for him.
He might even call it love.
He scoffed, shaking his head as he walked. He wasn't sure if Freddie understood Thomas could love anyone but power. His love for his family ran deep and now that he knew what Maze was to him, it ran deeper. But he couldn't let his emotions overrule his common sense and dedication to his own cause.
He opened the door to Polly's later that evening and received a quiet 'shhh' as he stepped inside and closed the door gently. Once his talk with Freddie ended with him declaring the marriage wouldn't stand, not that he knew how he would not let it stand, he needed to speak with Polly. Thomas gave her the task of trying to convince Freddie and Ada to leave the country in any way possible.
She failed, but he understood Freddie would not leave voluntarily. He would have to be run out of Birmingham or the Inspector would have to drop his interest in Freddie. Thomas speculated the Inspector would give up his chase of Freddie Thorne if Thomas gave him a different man to chase. He would have to find the man that was higher than Freddie.
Of course, with his luck, the Inspector would want Freddie's head on a platter. Thomas rolled his head around, pushing down the anger that threated to spill over. He could only imagine the conversation he would have with the Inspector shortly, especially since Freddie would not leave.
Thomas had half a mind to have a Blinder discreetly follow Ada around in case the coppers stopped her in town. He knew if he tried that avenue, she would pull a gun on him as well. It would outrage Freddie that Thomas would interfere with like so.
He found her sitting on the sofa with his youngest brother wrapped in a blanket, fast asleep. Sighing, he plopped down in the chair across from her and snatched her glass from the table and emptied it into his mouth. He relished the sharp tang of the bitter fruit of the wine he ingested before setting the small glass down with a slight thunk. He rubbed his tired eyes as the day finally caught up to him.
He pulled the stack of money and the boat ticket from his coat pocket and slapped it gently down on the table, letting her see what was in his hand. She looked at it and he could see a flash of anger cross her eyes before she lowered them to stare at the money. The money idea had been an excellent incentive, but throwing money at Freddie Thorne would not make him listen.
"Freddie didn't want the money," Thomas whispered, aware his brother was sleeping. "The coppers stopped me the other night and told me if we don't turn Freddie in, they're going to arrest Ada as an accomplice." he paused for a second, judging her reaction to the returned money. "This is where your compassion gets you, Pol."
"From now on, we're going to do it my way," he concluded.
He hated doing it to Polly, but she wanted to appeal to Freddie's good nature and the fact that he and Ada were going to be parents instead of forcing Freddie to do what needed to be done. Thomas didn't care about Freddie's good nature. If it had been just Ada to convince, then Polly would have succeeded, but she couldn't do it against Freddie.
"Or what?" she whispered, challenging him.
Thomas sighed deeply, dropping his head at her words. Couldn't this fucking family understand what needed to be done rather than what they wanted? Polly wanted them to stay in Birmingham, whilst Thomas wanted them gone. It drove him mad. She couldn't see that he was trying to protect Freddie and Ada by forcing them to leave the country. He would have been happy if they made it to London and stayed there.
He rose from the chair in a huff. At that moment, Thomas didn't have the patience to deal with Polly's challenging nature. He let her have a go at it and it didn't work. Now it was his turn. He yanked the door open and walked out without saying another word.
Thomas sat heavily on his bed later that night after leaving Polly's. He briefly stopped by Maze's house to see about dinner, but found she wasn't home. Her six-month service wasn't over and he reasoned she was at the hospital for the night. Turning away from her house, he traveled back to his flat and felt a wave of tiredness overcome him.
He opened the box slowly, revealing the pipe and opium that laid in there waiting on him. He wanted to throw it in the cut and out of his life, but sleep was hellish on him without it. After two inhalations, he sighed as the opium made his brain fuzzy. Sleep didn't come easy and his mind trembled from the onslaught of the nightmares he faced nightly.
A pounding on the door woke him from his nightmare infested sleep and he jerked up from sleep, panting hard.
"Tommy!" the voice called out through the closed door. The knocking continued as Thomas shook the cobwebs and nightmares from his mind to clean the opium up, locking it in the box.
He steadied himself, rising to his feet, and hoped that Danny wouldn't recognize the box. "It's open," he said, standing to his full height and shaking off the terror from his nightmare.
The door pushed open, revealing Danny, who saluted him as always. Inviting him inside his one-bedroom flat, Danny casually looked around the room before turning his attention back to Thomas. Thomas took a seat on his bed, wondering why Danny would knock at his door in the middle of the night. If someone knocked on his door at night, then something had happened.
Nothing good ever came from a middle of the night knock.
Danny sat his lantern on the chest of drawers and took a seat in the only chair in the room.
"What news from London?"
Danny sighed, his face furrowed in concentration. "I was in a pub called the Mother Red Cap. It's an Irish pub," he added quickly. "I was talking to a bloke about Birmingham, and he mentioned trouble." Danny paused to look at Thomas for a reaction. "Said an IRA man has been shot. Their high command thinks the Peaky Blinders shot him. I knew you needed to be warned, so I took the first boat here. Is it true?"
Thomas cursed silently, scratching the scuff on his cheek. "No, it's not, but lies travel faster than the truth." He turned to Danny, his mind reeling from the information Danny presented him. "Get a message to them. Tell them to send some to parlay. Let them know there's been a misunderstanding and we don't want trouble."
He reached for the half empty glass of whiskey and tipped the glass back to empty it. The sting of alcohol burning the back of his throat woke him further. He rubbed his tired eyes for a moment, wishing he were still asleep.
"You've got enough trouble, don't you, Tommy? The whiskey and the smoke?"
Thomas looked at Danny, and a trace of fear washed over him. He scratched the bridge between his eyebrows and felt he was being judged. Judged for not handling shit well enough that he resorted to opium.
"I could smell it," Danny explained, before turning away from Thomas. "I've used it meself a few times."
Thomas rubbed his tired eyes roughly with his hand and huffed. There were days he didn't think he'd make it through with all the stress that heaped upon him. He could have stepped back and said no to the call to change his path, but he didn't. Few understood his ambition, his drive to make a name for himself.
"Some nights it lasts all night, but there are times it doesn't," he confessed softly. "There are nights I lay here in bed and can hear the shovels, the picks, and the crumbling dirt by the wall over there. I hope every time it happens that the sun shines through the curtains before the wall crumbles. Sometimes they make it through."
Danny nodded his head mournfully, knowing exactly how Thomas felt. He was there with Thomas during those long days and nights under the ground and in the tunnels, hoping the Germans didn't break through the dirt wall. The one time they did, Danny savagely killed one of the two men as Freddie took a bullet.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Danny muttered he needed to be going. The boat would leave in an hour, and he promised he would get the message sent out. Thomas said nothing but watched as Danny disappeared from his one-bedroom flat, leaving him to his nightmares.
The next morning, the sun poured into his one-bedroom flat, rousing him from his sleep. He groaned deeply, rubbing his hands over his face before moving to a sitting position. He could hear the clomping of a horse from outside his window as someone pulled a wagon.
There were some mornings it was hell to wake up and move. He found a note from Danny before tossing it back on the small side table. He turned his head and glared with pure hate and loathing at the wall across from him. Talking to Danny hours ago reminded him how much he tried to avoid those four years he was gone. He tried to forget what he saw and what they forced him to do, regardless if he agreed with it or not. Dropping his head into his hands, he let out a shaky breath. If he closed his eyes, he could see the dimly lit tunnel and the fear that he might not make it home.
In the comfort of his home, he could let his guard down. No one in the room would judge him for his weakness. He understood why Heather was there for Maze once she returned from the future. Pride kept him from seeking help and asking the questions that burned in his mind.
Later, once he shoved emotion back into the box, Thomas dressed for another day. Arriving at Maze's, he knocked on the door and was greeted by the blonde hair of her friend, Heather.
"Where's Maze?" he asked, removing his hat.
"Upstairs asleep. She didn't get home until five this morning. You need to tell her to quit." Heather offered, holding the door opened, but not letting him inside.
"And you think she will listen to me?" he asked, huffing quietly.
"Maybe. She trusts you more than anyone else." Heather said before bidding him goodbye.
It irritated him he hadn't seen Maze since the day at the Asian market. His skin itched like mad lately, adding to the stress he was under. He would find breakfast elsewhere.
Walking down Garrison Lane, he felt the heat from the wild sparks come from the building to the right of him as he walked. The street wasn't busy at that moment, making him grateful that people worked.
Entering the Garrison, he stripped off his coat, hanging it on the chair before the door opened as Grace walked in holding a bottle of his preferred whiskey. He barely glanced at it, wondering if she expected him to drink this early in the morning.
"Your sister was here," she whispered, hoping to see if he confessed anything new to her. She set the bottle of whiskey and tumbler on the table, enticing him to have a drink. Grace knew if men indulged in alcohol, they were more inclined to speak.
Thomas sat down heavily, sighing as he did. He didn't have the patience this morning to listen to someone berate him about what had transpired the day before. Thomas felt the wolf prowling impatiently in his mind as he sat wondering why Grace was still in the room. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey she brought it and untwisted the cap before pouring himself a drink.
"She was worried that you and Freddie…." Grace paused, unsure how to finish her sentence. "It made her sick. She's all right," Grace assured him, "but in her condition she needs peace, not war. Women talk."
"That is something they do," Thomas muttered, uninterested in the conversation. He wasn't sure why Grace thought it was a good idea to come in and start this conversation with him. Thomas slapped the box of cigarettes down on the table and placed one in his mouth before lighting it. Thomas inhaled immediately, hoping the nicotine would soothe the irritation he felt crawling under his skin. He hoped his disinterest would turn Grace away.
"She talked about you," Grace continued, much to his dismay. "Said you lock everything up inside."
"Well," he snapped softly, extinguishing the match, "that's what men do."
"You know you can talk to me," Grace offered, hoping he would confide in her. "Men always talk about their troubles with barmaids. I'm good at listening."
"To you?" he snapped, taking her aback as if he struck her. She needed to leave the room before he truly lost his patience with her. He couldn't tell her what was wrong with him. No other but family knew how the Shelby men reacted on the day of the full moon.
"Why not?" she challenged.
He didn't look at her, but her words touched something inside him. It was something he avoided doing. Talking. If he wanted to talk to someone, it wouldn't be Grace. No matter how friendly she was trying to be with him. He hadn't seen her in days and now she thought she could come into his meeting room to cajole him into revealing his darkest secrets to her?
Thomas kept his eyes on the whiskey bottle, contemplating her words. It would ease the stress if he spoke with someone, but he couldn't trust their reaction to his ambitions. He tended to keep everything to his chest instead of confiding in others.
If he talked, it would be to Maze. Maze was someone he knew he could ultimately trust to keep his secrets. Her mind had been exposed to the war and the horrors the befell everyone who volunteered to fight in France. She'd listen to him without judging him for his deeds. Polly would listen to him, but he could hear the tongue lashing she'd give him.
"What is it you and Freddie are fighting over?" she pressed, hoping he would tell her.
Thomas paused, looking at the bottle of whiskey in front of him. He parted his lips to say something, but changed his mind. Instead, he reached across the table and snatched up the newspaper. Opening it up, he scanned over the headlines as Grace waited for his next words.
"I'll meet you here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning," he said, flipping the page. "You have a dress?"
"Of course I do," she said, smiling coyly at him. The girlish part of her wanted to giggle at the notion that he could be interested in her, but the cop in her was still wondering why he asked about a dress.
He flicked the paper again and ignored as she walked out of the room. Rolling his neck around, he felt a bone pop. The full moon was tonight. Cheltenham started today, but he knew he'd be hard pressed to handle anything remotely taxing today. He swore, tilting his head back as he remembered the Pack meeting that was set for this afternoon.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered as he turned the newspaper page.
