Chapter 38) A Pack of Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

.-.-.

The moment the Blinders entered the warehouse at Schinkelkade 30, Tommy knew he'd made a fatal mistake in judgement.

As far as his research went, the Nederlandsche Cocaine Fabriek had been founded by the Koloniale Bank, in the early 1900s. And since the NFC had been granted a permit to produce and export cocaine, morphine and other usually illegal substances to foreign countries and corporations, such as the Burroughs Wellcome & Co, the creator of the Forced March, Tommy figured the NFC would be managed by upper-class sophisticated gentlemen.

They were greeted by no-one less than Director Herman H. Baanders himself, with open arms, which showed a fair share of tattoos beneath the rim of the collar of his neck and wrists. A bright toothy smile showed a golden canine and two calculating beady dark eyes that zigzagged underneath bushy eyebrows of white steel wool.

Polly's lessons taught Tommy to never underestimate an old man doing a young man's job and although Director Baanders appeared to be around the age of sixty, Tommy sensed the man was a wolf in fancy sheep clothing and they just had walked into a lion's den.

"Gentlemen, fine gentlemen," the Director corrected himself, shaking hands with Arthur and then with Tommy.

Tommy noticed a small tattoo between the man's thumb and index finger; it was the face of a little devil, flicking its forked tongue. The handshake was short and firm, a possible asset to reassure that those tattooed hands were capable of a lot more than simply signing papers.

"Miss," the Director took hold of Maria's hand with both of his and pulled her closer, "welcome to my humble factory, I honestly hope you'll enjoy your stay."

They were given a grand tour, in which Director Baaners directed himself fully to Arthur, or Dr. Rivers as he presumed, but flashed his beady eyes over to Maria every once in a while. The glances weren't hard to notice and it made Maria uncomfortable. Stiffly, she walked close to Arthur, nearly touching shoulders and her hands clenched around the small suitcase filled with paperwork and cash.

The inside of the packing station of the factory was a dump; most of the windows were covered with thick layers of dust and spider webs. The assembly lines were managed by young lads and occasional little boys. The workers shared the same dead tired stare as the factory workers in Small Heath. Along the lines of working lads a pack of tall, broad men marched around, armed with clubs, iron poles and bare fists. Those men kept the workers in line and 'eager' to pack as efficiently as possible, as Director Baanders put it.

The producing area was a restricted part of the factory and for a moment Tommy's heart dropped as he feared they might be body searched. Arthur seemed equally alarmed, as he'd also brought his gun along the ride.

But all they had to do was press their feet into a basin of alcohol and wash their hands in a dingy lavatory.

Maria had never been so pleased to see them return and she immediately retreated back to Arthur's right side. Tommy knew it was premeditated, she was supposed to play the role of Dr. River's assistance and Tommy played the role of silent patient, but seeing her plastered to Arthur's side stirred up a humbling bit of envy.

The production area of the factory was something to honestly marvel at. The high ceiling and vents dispatched the chemical fumes coming from the raw product material. The workers in this area appeared older, healthier and were all wrapped in white lab coats and armed with thick leather boots and gloves.

"In 1875, our first coca plants were transferred from Brazil to the colonial botanic Garden's Lands Plantentuin te Buitenzorg,' in Java," Director Baanders explained, "shortly after, commercial production started in Java. Coca leaves were exported, mainly to Germany, through our Koloniale Bank. This trade moved between 34 and 81 tons of leaves annually from 1892 to 1900. Because of the growing demand, the Koloniale Bank decided to start production of cocaine in Amsterdam. Our factory was named the Nederlandsche Cocaine Fabriek at the 12th of March, 1900 and soon the NCF became the major cocaine producers in Europe, before the name change we produced mainly opiates," the Director added with pride.

Arthur's eyes grew large as he Director nodded to a massive iron silo, "our aim is to fill up at least two of those beauties with pure cocaine, twice a week, "and of course our aim is to keep our quality."

Their next stop was at the quality check, a cramped room storing a variety of medical machinery and a lab worker, focusing on a dozen glass tubes.

"We take our responsibility very seriously," the Director vowed, "a bad product means a bad name. Before our factory became the NCF, it had been in my family for two generations, father to son and the prize is very high if something or someone fucks up," the threat was aimed at the lab worker, who quickly started to scribble down notes.

The three Blinders were also shown the area where they produced other medical supplies, such as morphine, heroine and other opiates. Although Director Baanders kept repeating that their main product was cocaine, because cocaine sold.

Their tour ended inside the Director's office, a large pompous room filled with dark oak furniture, a massive desk and large pieces of unfamiliar art plastered on the walls.

"Who painted that?" Maria whispered astounded underneath her breath, staring at a painting of a girl wearing impossibly large pearl earrings.

The sharp ears of the Director overheard her question and granted the young woman a golden smile.

"Ah, an art fanatic, that's a Vermeer. I'm a collector so to speak and since cash flows like water," he made a gesture to the painting, "I like to surround myself with the beauty within the world."

To give his words more meaning, he slouched down at his desk and pulled out a box of cigars.

"So, fine gentlemen, what do you think of my humble factory?" He held out the box and put his feet up on his desk.

Arthur exchanged a hurried gaze with Tommy; who nodded, it was time to start their act.
"You've got a fine establishment," Arthur started, picking his words with care, "our new pharmacy would be eager to do business with you-"

"-Ah, yes," the Director cut Arthur off, "Dr. Rivers, you've mentioned that in your letter, but failed to inform me what kind of pharmacy that exactly is."

The way Director H. Baanders picked his words pinned the hairs on Tommy's neck up into the air. There it was, the huge flaw in his plan. He hadn't done the proper research. Being on the spree to gain a legal cocaine import contract, he had failed to take a few steps back and do a better background check on the Director.

Tommy had figured H. Baanders was an upper class rich prick, who had better things to do than sit around, listening to a presumed doctor. Tommy had thought the Director would be eager to show off his emporium and seal the deal with an outstanding member of the Birmingham society, a medical war veteran.

But this Director was a crook, maybe not in the illegal sense, but he was a bad man, just like Tommy and Arthur. And what do have all bad men in common? Common sense, gut feeling and a fucking gun.

Before Tommy knew it, Maria was staring into the barrel of a Webley 455 MK. Both the Blinder men remained frozen in their seat because if they pulled out their gun right this instance, their deal would be over. Even worse, their lives might be over, starting with Maria's.

Another ice cold thought crashed down on Tommy. He didn't load his gun. As Maria's face paled, Tommy instantly remembered how hers had paled last night, as he'd pressed his revolver into her hands. The same revolver he'd used to scare off two youngsters, the same revolver he'd emptied to prevent himself from blowing his crazed brains out.

He walked into a lion's den, with a wolf in sheep's clothing, with an empty gun.

This would be the second mistake he'd made that could cost them their lives.

Sucking on the end of his cigar, the bushy white eyebrows on Director Baanders roze sky high.

"Well, can any of you explain to me why a knighted Doctor would bother to show up in here to seal a deal with a poor sod like myself? Any good Doctor would send an ambassador, one he wouldn't mind losing his head," pulling the hammer of his gun back and aiming right between Maria's two huge terrified eyes he puffed out circles of smoke, "well? Does anyone care to do a little explaining or should I redecorate my office with the blood of this fine young thing?"
Craning his neck towards Tommy he continued, "What the fuck is your purpose in this whole fiasco?"

Tommy's jaw dropped open and gently he held his hands up.

"Director Baanders, I can explain the whole thing, if you could just lower your-" Arthur started but the Director snapped at his words.

"-You are not in the position to negotiate! And I don't want to hear a word from you. I want to hear it from him, the silent klootzak," the Director cursed in Dutch.

"He can't speak," Maria murmured, eyes still fully focused on the deadly weapon pointing at her, "I'm his speaker. And you are right, we aren't here to make a deal for a presumed pharmacy or charity"

Tommy heard himself moan and he closed his eyes in defeat, that good Catholic mouth of hers was going to end them all today.

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," the Director spoke with glee, but his cold eyes told a different story, "now since you're the only one who made an attempt to be honest, please be so kind as to explain why the three of you dared to enter my factory. Who are you? My bets are on Scotland Yard."

Maria's terrified eyes turned to Tommy, but the Director nudged her cheek with his gun, "tut, tut, eyes up here, to the thing that will blow your pretty face off if you speak anything but the truth."

The only time Tommy could recall seeing his speaker in this state of utter terror was the time the both of them were down in Russo's basement. Only that time she had feared for his life when he was being tortured, not her own. It made Tommy wonder if she will be pleading for her life as much as she had pleaded for his.

"We're not from Scotland Yard. We're the Peaky Blinders," Maria spoke in a soft broken voice. And there it was, curtain closed for Tommy's master plan, and the curtain closed for the three of them.

"Peaky Blinders?" The Director partly choked, partly laughed. "And who might that be?"

"Gangsters from Birmingham, sir," Maria explained soft-spoken.

Now the Director did laugh, out loud, to her face, harsh and cold. "You're a gangster?!"

"I am on their payroll," Maria carefully explained, earning another round of laughter.

"You doll?" Another chuckle escaped the Director's lips, "honestly, do share, what's the worst you've ever done?"

Maria's shoulders taut and her lips turned into a thin line, "I've once nearly cut a man's cock off for harassing me, sent 'im to the hospital. A week later, his head was sent in a box to his family, we wrapped it nicely."

A startling tremor made the gun tremble for a moment; the director dumped his cigar in an ashtray and scanned the young woman over a few times.

"If you're lying dolly…"

"Am not, why would I lie over such hideous sin? I'm being held at gunpoint, maybe I should be lying about dismembering a man. He deserved it though," Tilting her chin she gave off a strange aura of entitlement, "he should have known better than to fuck with the Peaky Blinders."

Now the Director appeared entertained, "is that a threat princess?"

"No sir, that's common sense. The Blinders own Birmingham, parts of Manchester and our allies are the Lee's. Criminal travellers sir, spread all over the globe."

"Your lot are Gypsies? Oh, this just gets worse and worse doesn't it?" The Director bellowed as Maria nodded, "so do tell me, why on Earth did you lot come in here, with a bad impression of a Doctor, unarmed-"

"-Who said we're unarmed?" Maria retorted humbly.

"Hands up! All of you!" The Director spat hurriedly, pointing his weapon all over the room. Arthur and Maria quickly did as told and Tommy knew Maria just blew their last bit of hope. Surely Arthur hadn't been dumb enough to bring an empty gun, but with his hands in the air, he sure as hell wouldn't be able to reach it faster than the Director.

"Well, now that I know who you are, allow me to tell me a bit about myself," he said while unbuttoning his first button, "as I've mentioned my family has been in charge of this empire for two decades. But we all started from nothing somewhere along the line, right? We didn't start as a legal blooming business, far from it," he pointed out, starting to undo his second button, "I'm not just a fan of art, I'm also fond of music. You can say it's in my blood." Pulling aside his shirt, the Director revealed parts of his tattooed chest. A traditional black raven, on top of a Nomad woman's shoulder decorated the place above the Director's heart.

Tommy swallowed dryly exchanging concerned gazes with Arthur. Director Baanders was a Rudari, a distant Romani relation from Northern Hungary. Most of them wiped out, by the strict regime that wanted to cleanse their country from ethnic minorities.

"Most of my kin migrated to America, but a stubborn few, found their fortune closer to home. In Amsterdam," Director Baanders pointed out content, "that being said, you have about one minute to explain what your reason is for being here," the Director pointed his weapon to Arthur, "you, speak."

"We are planning to start up a cocaine imperium in the UK. Our base is Birmingham but we have ways to easily export it to Manchester, Liverpool and possibly London," Arthur started stiffly, "but our business needs a bigger and better distributor than we have now and seeing your business is equipped to produce tons and is completely legal, we decided to have a meeting with the NCF."

"And why the whole act?" The Director fired.

"'Cause we didn't think a rich prick from Amsterdam would want to do business with a bunch of Gypsy gangsters," Arthur pointed out bluntly.

"Isn't it a small world after all?" The tight lips of the Director turned into a wry grin and casually, he lowered his gun down onto his desk. "Just for your information, I have about two dozen armed and angry men guarding my business, do not think you can harm me and make it out alive."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Arthur responded, slowly lowering his arms.

As Maria and Tommy did the same, the Director opened a drawer and took out various heavy solid glass containers, the size of ashtrays. The content was the purest snow Tommy had ever laid his eyes on.

"Fine gentlemen, dolly, have a seat," The director points to the chairs, "and let's do business."

.-.-.

With a body stiff from the purest cocaine he'd ever snorted, Tommy exited the Nederlandsche Cocaine Fabriek, unarmed, unharmed and with a decent contract.

Arthur, with a body in the same energetic euphoric state came right after him, with Maria still glued to his side.

Arthur was able to keep his hysteria under control until they walked around the first corner. There, his euphoric frenzy erupted and he started laughing frantically. Picking up Maria around her waist, he twirled her around on the sidewalk, being granted many strange gazes from bystanders.

"You must be our lucky charm love!" He exclaimed, kissing both her cheeks before placing her back on her own two feet. "The Peaky Blinders slash NFC fundaments have been signed and the start of our own cocaine empire has been born today!"

Before Tommy could brace himself, he was being pulled in by the two strong and powerful hands of his brother. He responded stiffly, tapping Arthur on the shoulder as the air got knocked out of his lungs by a tight hug.

"Now, Tom, we are never going to pretend to be something we're not!" Arthur snarled into his ear. "We're the Peaky Blinders, gypsies, born and raised in Birmingham. We are proud of that. No business meeting, no other type of bullshit will ever make me say otherwise, got that?"

Tommy nodded sheepishly as Arthur pulled back, ruffling his hands through his eyes.

Maria suddenly burst into tears. Knees, buckled and she dropped down onto the filthy streets, wailing, burying her face into her hands.

Being on a cocaine frenzy and establishing the impossible made Tommy momentarily forget that his speaker wasn't a war veteran, nor a cut throat gangster and minutes ago had been held at gunpoint.

Hunching down to meet her at eye-level, Tommy was unflatteringly pulled down to his knees as a result of Maria's arms clinging around his neck.

"I t-thought I was going t-to die!" The poor young woman choked through her tears, "a-again!"

Being a poor excuse for anyone who was remotely comforting, Tommy awkwardly stroked through her hair and really wished she wouldn't break down in broad daylight with an entire city -and Arthur- to notice.

To prevent an audience to form for a show, Tommy pulled her back on her feet, trying to balance between being her consoler and remaining callous in the eyes of Arthur.

He failed miserable at both as Maria sniffled against his chest and he pressed his chin down onto her head.

The slight gesture of Maria breaking down made Arthur more uneasy than it did with Tommy and so his brother offered the only solution to fear and heartache he knew.

"Let's get a drink then."

.-.-.

A/N: Ok, this chapter didn't remotely go as planned and by God I'm so happy it took a big turn. Mainly because I was bored, by the thought of writing a decent meeting with some Director block who thought he'd be better than everyone else in the room. So as I made up the fact that H. Baanders was pretty much alike Tommy and Arthur, I figured they needed something that bound them. I figured this out around the time I typed down Maria being held at gunpoint. Everything turned out completely different than I had in mind, simply because I didn't want to force myself to write 'a boring meeting'. Halfway I didn't even know how it was going to turn out and made everything up after that. Worked out, very well.

I like that Maria pretty much saved the day, without being out of character. I love that Tommy really fucked it up. Also love Arthur for pointing out to Tommy that they should be proud of what and who they are. Also, liked to make up another OC with a little background and foundation.

Loved to write this entire chapter in general, simply because it's all made up spontaneous.

Oh Mute-Tommy, you've come so far from being the damaged stable lad…

All feedback, big and small will be highly appreciated, comments are my muse3

Xoxoxo Nukyster