Chapter 44) Fire starter

.-.-.

Arthur had set up a meeting at the Garrison. In the snug, only a handful of the most trusted men had gathered around to be briefed on the latest events.

Tommy only partly participated in the meeting, listening to Arthur while drumming his fingertips on the wooden frame of the table.

John had been late and it bothered him a lot. The way John refused to look him straight in the eyes or even acknowledge his presence bothered him even more.

Taking the cap off his pen, he slammed his notebook down on the table causing an unsure pause in Arthur's speech.

While keeping a sharp eye on John, Tommy wrote down a short note and slid the notebook over to Arthur's side.

His older brother's eyes briefly skimmed over the words and resolutely added them into his speech.

"John, where the fuck is the Chinese whore?"

John's teeth bit down on the toothpick that was pressed between his lips: "Couldn't find her."

Tommy gave him a long piercing stare which made John sit upright and bang both hands down on the table; "I said I couldn't find her alright! Besides she's got nothing to do with this!"

Tommy tsk'd as a response to his younger brother and wrote Arthur another note.

"Where did you take her John?" Arthur asked, "don't lie to me brother."

John's cheeks paled a shade and a muscle twitched in his jaw: "I put her on the first train and told her never to come back, she's gone, you won't be able to find her."

Tommy glanced arrogantly at his younger sibling, slipping John a note across the table: We'll see about that.

The unquestionable threat caused John to shoot up from his seat and throw the notebook across the room and said while nearly spitting out his words: "don't you dare fucking touching her!"

"Relax Johnny Boy," Arthur meddled, "we just want to have a little talk with her."

"Oh fuck off Arthur; I've seen that damned look in 'is eyes before!" John snarled pointing directly at Tommy, "that's a bloodhound tagged on a track, he ain't resting until he mauled her!"

"John, Pol is put in the hospital because of those Chinks. If the whore had anything to do with that, you should be the first to put a bullet between her-"

"-She's carrying my fucking child!" John burst out, leaving the cramped up snug in complete silence.

Tommy closed his eyes and exhaled. Of course, John had to create a poor reenactment of Romeo and Juliet. Of course his kid brother had to fall head over heels for a Chinese brothel worker. And of course, he had to knock her up with a bastard child.

Retrieving his notebook from the floor, Tommy wiped the dust off the leather and wrote down one word: Congratulations, and underlined it three times.

The clear sarcasm that dripped off of every syllable was enough for John to get up, grab his coat and leave the meeting early.

Tommy only glared at the slammed shut door; if John was going to be a blockade in their fight against the Red Dragon, he'd better take the next train too.

For the rest of the meeting, Tommy kept to himself. Arthur mainly spoke about how to keep their clubs and pubs safe, wondering what the Red Dragon might be targeting next.

It bothered Tommy; they were one step behind in all of this. They were recovering, in defense mode. Which was a good thing because that greedy old bastard was not to be underestimated.

If it were up to him, he'd walk into the Chinese district with all their ammo swinging. They had rifles, shotguns, pistols, revolvers. Even a few hand grenades and knives, not to mention their trademark caps. The Blinders had the numbers and probably the weapons too.

But that was the thing; he wasn't one hundred percent sure about that.

And the second thing was all the casualties; the innocent men, women and children who'd die in the crossfire.

One dead old man, one exploded shop, one hospitalised woman did not set the score with the possible dozens of innocents who'd die due to Tommy's taste for vengeance.

Tommy thoughtfully bit at the end of his pen, staring at the tainted window of the Garrison. He needed another strategy, one that didn't involve great numbers nor guns. In all honesty, he did not want a war with the Chinese. All he wanted was to wipe out the Red Dragon. So all he needed was one good hit. To make a statement, in case the Chinese thought about avenging their leader. Bloody fuckers had a strict code of honour, but they weren't brainless.

Tommy wrote another note and shifted it to Arthur: Set up an official meeting with the Red Dragon, for tomorrow at noon, at the remains of our bakery.

When Arthur read the note and stared at him as if he thought Tommy had lost the last bit of his sanity, Tommy pulled the notebook back and rapidly scribbled down: trust me.

.-.-.

The only thing that made the house arrest worse than it already was, were the scornful glares her mother sent her every time the twins weren't looking.

Maria and her family had been strictly forbidden by Arthur to leave the house. There were men on guard, blocking their door in case some Chinese assassin tried to get in. Of course she didn't tell her mum any of that, in fact she didn't communicate with her mother at all.

For the first time in weeks, she spent real quality time with her two younger siblings. Like the three musketeers they played card games. When their mum was busy preparing dinner Maria tried to teach them Tommy's deviant card tricks, which they picked up rather quickly.

As she put April and May to bed she told them all about Amsterdam, a fairytale like version of what happened during her trip overseas. How tiny she'd felt on the ferry, startled by the endless amount of salt water. How pretty all the paintings had been inside the Director's office, leaving out the bits that regarded her staring into the barrel of a loaded gun. She told them about the magnificent beauty of Saint Nicolas; and of course her encounter with elephants, zebra's and exotic fish.

Her little sisters were glued to her every words, eyes shimmering with awe and innocent wonder. April wanted her to draw an elephant first thing in the morning and May could not grasp the fact that there were animals as big as a house.

When Maria tiptoed out of her sister's bedroom to head over to her own bedroom, there were three short knocks on her door. She recognised the rhythm, it was Tommy's.

Her heart sank; the last thing she wanted was to have him and her mum in the same space.
But since she was his lap dog and had absolutely no say in what he could and couldn't do, she quickly reached for the door.

Tommy stomped out his cigarette when she opened the door, watching her with dejected hollow eyes.

In a weak attempt to keep him out of the house, Maria remained in the doorway and didn't invite him in. He caught on to her weak attempt and didn't bother to take a step in her direction.

Instead he leaned back, rested his elbows on the balustrade and started fingerspelling:
T-o-m-m-o-r-r-o-w, a-t, t-h-e, b-a-k-e-r-y, n-o-o-n.

"Aye, Mister Shelby," Maria responded through pursed lips, "If I may ask, what will happen tomorrow at the bakery at noon?"

Tommy seemed bothered by her question and lazily pushed himself up so he could use sign language: we meet with the Red Dragon.

Maria's eyebrows disappeared underneath her short bangs; did she read his signs correctly? Did he honestly want to meet with the man who put his aunt in the hospital and sent an innocent man into an early horrific death?

"You are meeting the Red Dragon tomorrow?" She asked baffled, praying she misunderstood his signs. But Tommy nodded, sealing her possible early grave.

"I'm not going," she told him short and firmly, "I don't want to die."

Tommy watched her with those calculated, stoic icy blue eyes and suddenly leaned forward. It startled her, making her jerk back over the doorstep.

I made you a promise, gave you and your family a roof over their head and protection, Tommy reminded her once again, nudging his chin towards the broad and angry looking fellow who'd be forced to spend his night at her doorway.

In return, you're my voice. And I need my voice tomorrow, at noon, at the carcass of what once was my bakery. Do I make myself clear?

"Yes mister Shelby, you make yourself clear. I'll be there tomorrow, but I'll pray that if I die right there and then, you'll be damned and go to hell." Maria promised.

There's already a place reserved, so don't burden your precious Catholic soul, Tommy signed back arrogantly.

.-.-.

At half past eleven, Tommy showed up still wearing the wrinkled three piece suit. This time it was decorated with mud splatter and his shoes were soiled with muck and grime. He'd had a clean shave, but the near manic glance in his red-rimmed eyes revealed that he hadn't been able to rest.

Sniffing a line of cocaine off the balustrade, he waited for her to get into her coat and grab her purse.

Before her sisters had gone to school, she'd kissed them goodbye and hugged them a lot longer then she usually did. She'd even tangled her arms around her mum, who seemed to have caught on that her daughter was about to face something horrible. Her mum had tried to communicate with her, but she'd kept silent, fearing that if she'd speak up she'd break down.

Tommy sensed her fear of marching off into a deadly scenario and stopped her before heading into the streets.

You are not going to die, I swear, he signed to her, I'll keep you safe.

Tears provokingly burned in her eyes but she swallowed them and nodded unconvincingly.

Tommy sighed frustrated, pulling her back by her arm to give them some form of privacy at the end of the stairs.

What can I say to make you believe me?

"That I can stay home?" Maria pleaded desperately. She'd seen first-hand what the Chinese did to Russo. And although the Italian deserved every bit of his torment, she certainly didn't want to be the next murdered, decapitated body to be sent off to her loved ones.

Tommy grunted and bit his lower lip: You can't stay home, I need you present, it needs to look real.

"What needs to look real?" Maria asked.

I can't tell you, just please trust me, Tommy signed and pulled his watch out of his pocket, we need to go. Now.

.-.-.

As Tommy and Maria approached the bakery, she noticed a massive antique desk being placed in the middle of the street. On both sides was a line of matching chairs, one side was already taken over by familiar Blinders. None of them appeared heavily armed, which scared Maria. They were sitting ducks out there, in the middle of the deserted street.

"You're out of our mind, you're serving us on a silver platter," Maria whispered breathlessly to Tommy who forced her to continue walking.

Arthur's pale face spoke volumes. The leader of the Blinders tapped his cap back in a way to greet her and pressed a leather suitcase in her hands. Without being granted time to ask what it was for, Tommy pushed her forward into the direction of one of the chairs.

She'd been seated next to Tommy and one Blinder who she'd only recognised by face.

At noon, the first oriental faces started to come out from the shadows of a back alley. A small army of Chinese gangsters rapidly took over their side of the table. Maria didn't recognise any of the face besides the man with the tonsure haircut.

"Fucker didn't bother to show up himself," Arthur cursed under his breath.

"I am Yazhou Gu, representative of Master Cheng," the servant informed them.

"You blew up our business," Arthur stated, barely able to contain his anger.

"Yes, we did," Yazhou Gu responded without a second thought, "you've offended Master Cheng's."

"We did not mean to offend your master," Arthur continued through gritted teeth, doing his best to keep his face from showing its true emotions: "as repentance, we'd like to present your lot a token of our respect."

Tommy nudged Maria on the shoulders and tapped on the suitcase, craning his head towards the table. Understanding her cue, Maria got up, placed the gift on the table and unlocked the hinges.

"That's a thousand pound, the exact amount of money we've already paid your lot for your cocaine," Arthur explained, "take it so we can remain at peace."

Yazhou Gu stared at the prize money and spoke in his mother's tongue to the small army of Chinese.

"We accept your attempt to repent," Yazhou Gu told the Blinders, while one of his workers snapped the suitcase shut and took it to their side, "you are wise men, knowing better than to face our mighty Red Dragon."

"Hear that fellas, we're wise men," Arthur repeated staring at the revival gang, "fucking wise men." he repeated again as the Chinese started to leave the meeting.

"I hope you know what you're doing Tom, that was a lot of fucking money to be given away over nothing," Arthur whispered, barely loud enough for Maria to overhear.

Maria, still jittering on her seat while cold sweat poured over her forehead immediately leaned over to Tommy.

"What does he mean by that, weren't you here to establish peace?"

Tommy gave her a condescending smug glance, as if talking with a slow child.

That bastard nearly killed my aunt, there is no peace, there was however, a Trojan horse, Tommy pointed at the antique table and passive Blinders, this was all an act to get a step ahead, Tommy held up his pocket watch and smiled, you've got that old cuckoo clock at home right?

Maria nodded, feeling like a slow child because she had no clue where he was going with this.

This evening, at exactly eight o'clock you can gather your little sisters up around the living room window, don't be alarmed by any loud bangs, just enjoy the fireworks.

.-.-.

Polly watched the small drips of fluid leak into her IV. Her body was in agony and she hadn't been able to bring herself to stare at her crumbling, blistering skin. The doctor had informed her that the burn wounds on her thighs would heal properly, but the ones on her arms would remain scarred and disfigured. The burns on her chest flared up every so often, skin raw and vividly red. It made her breathing difficult and coughing hurt; throat damaged from breathing in hot air and smoke. Her voice sounded as if it belonged to a stranger, gravelly and cracking like an old record.

It made her sympathise more with Tommy's struggles of using someone else's voice.

If only that voice of his wouldn't present such a holier-than-thou aura.

Speaking of the devil, her brightest nephew dragged his sorry ass into her room.

Disheveled from his usual arrogant stance, he dropped down on to the iron seat next to her bed and pressed his forehead lightly against her shoulder.

She could smell him, sweat mixed with too many types of alcohol, gunpowder and earthy soil. He breathed in slow, a little tremor breaking through.

"Where have you been? You smell like you dug yourself out of a grave." Polly asked, clearing her throat.

Sewers, with Uncle Charlie, Tommy scribbled down, showing her the note.

He flipped through a few pages and tore out a few pre-written ones:

Last night, me, Arthur and Charlie roamed through the sewers, mapping. It took us a while, but we found what we aimed for. Today, I set a Trojan horse, to get all their Chinese heads turned towards our bakery and humble demeanor. While Arthur spoke about repentance and peace, Johnny-boy and a few of the younger lads went to the Chinese district. Didn't cause a riot, didn't provoke or destroyed anything. We simply took the things we needed. To make a point.

Tommy showed her a hastily scribbled map of sewer lines and a red cross in the middle of the lines. And then handed her another note:

Those fuckers aren't the only ones who're good with explosives, Tommy's next note read, me and Arthur made a few dozen bombs, we've traced down the Red Dragon's location and harboured Uncle Charlie's spare boat inside the sewer line. Filled with Shelby's homemade explosives, Gelignite, also known as blasting gelatine, enough to send the fucker back to hell. We've also added a little bit more to the mix, Chinese fireworks. The best of the best.

Polly had to read the note over twice, wondering if the morphine was playing tricks on her. Did her nephew seriously crawl his way through darkness and filth, to then turn the other cheek, playing the repenting gangster, only to stab the knife deep into the back of one of their enemies?

The manic and malicious grin plastered on his face told her enough. Tommy glanced up at the window with dog-tired, yet, thrilled eyes.

Just a few more minutes Pol, he scribbled down for her, staring at his pocket watch, we're about to watch some fireworks.

.-.-.

"There isn't going to be any fireworks," April told them firmly, crossing her arms as she sulked, "it's not even close to New Year's eve."

"Well, then go to bed if you don't believe me," Maria retorted to her sister who was in a sour mood. April stuck out her tongue but remained near the window.

"Why are there fireworks tonight?" May asked sucking on her thumb "is it a special day today?"

"Not really no, but it's a nice way of celebrating we're still together and safe, I guess." Maria said, glancing at the cuckoo clock, "just thirty more seconds."

"Should we count down, like we always did at home?" May asked, "Like with New Year's Eve?"

"Sure, why not?" Maria said, realising it was rather morbid counting down for one of Tommy's schemes. But both her sisters seemed thrilled by the idea of an early New Year's Eve, favoring their memories of that day.

"Ten, nine," April and May started counting, "eight, seven, six," April took the best spot in front of the window, "five, four," May tried to nudge her sister aside but when that failed stood on the tips of her toes, "three," Maria lowered her head and pulled both her sisters closed, "two, one…"

Nothing happened, for a few seconds, Maria thought Tommy's secret plan had failed. Then a huge explosion erupted, making the floor underneath their feet shake. A fist of orange flames punched its way into the murky air. Smoke and fire gushed out into the open, followed by bangs and cracks from fireworks. Red, vivid green and purple blazed into the night sky, lightening up the darkness. Pencils of colorful light shot through the sky. Alarms from the local police and firemen shrilled through the streets. People from their apartment complex rushed outside, staring from the balustrade up into the sky, baffled by the magnificent show.

Maria had to give it to Tommy; he had a way of delivering the message: Don't fuck with the Peaky Blinders.

.-.-.

A/N: I wrote this and last chapter in one go, bang twelve hours of my weekend well spent. I loved every bit of writing this. John surprised me there, but isn't he the sweetest? He didn't have the heart to hurt the woman he loves and carries his child.

Tommy, well he hasn't been very kind to Maria. But he hasn't slept in days, crawled his way through sewer pipes (probz having some PTSD flashbacks) so give him a break. Just as in the show, he'll be able to switch from cutthroat gangster back to that kind, broken man we all loved a few chapters back.

About the whole scheme to murder the Red Dragon, let's not get too much into detail alright. I will come clean, I haven't googled the sewer lines of Small Heath, I have no idea how many explosives you need to destroy a house, just bear with me. I'm just a humble part-time write and MuteTommy enthusiast!

And last for best! I'm officially engaged! And also working close to full time, a wedding to plan, volunteer work and a busy social life… So, it'll take some time for me to write/post new chapters. Sorry in advance!

Xoxox Nukyster