They walked in a straight line down the street, completely in-step. John and a few others stayed back with the cars parked along the road. They walked in one cohesive movement. It was more of a march, a procession, like a well oiled machine. The Peaky Blinders were going to work.

"You're sure?" Tommy was asking as they rounded a corner.

"Yep," his man confirmed it. " Solomons' men saw him wave down a car. He bought a train ticket. He's trying to give us the slip. We didn't get all off Kincaid's goons so one of em must've given him the heads up."

"Not enough time," Tommy replied, shaking his head. There wouldn't have been enough time for any of Kincaid's men to get to the hotel where Churchill was staying and they wouldn't be stopping to make a telephone call until they were far from the Peaky Blinders who were picking them off in the alleys. No…. This was premeditated.

"Guess he was all talk."

"Damn yellow bellied bastard," Arthur spat to his left.

That was Tommy's thought exactly. They were close to the train station. When the'd reached the outskirts of the station, Tommy stopped them to go over the plan one more time.

"Alright everyone you know what to do, spread out, get to the tracks. Find his seat and don't let him get off that train. If he steps off the platform and starts running we can't chase him down because of the coppers. Keep your weapons at your sides at all times. Nothing will land you in jail faster than drawing a pistol in a train."

They began to move again. People quailed and jumped out of their way as the Peaky Blinders strode towards the platforms. Some of the men went ahead to interrogate the people at the ticket booths.

"Platform number." Tommy asked as they returned to him.

"Fifteen."

They boarded the train.

"We're lookin for a Mr. Churchill," Arthur bellowed, first in line, pushing past the conductor. "Churchill!" he called. The passengers looked at him with wide eyes, mostly women and children. Arthur could be a little off-putting. However, only one person had anything to worry about today.

"Not the bloody Prime Minister! For Christ's sakes.. Move all of you!" Arthur and the muscle moved down the line, scanning the seats. Tommy saw him in the back, hat over his eyes and a paper right up to his hawk nose, but Tommy recognized the coat.

Big mistake.

"We got im Tommy, we got im!" Arthur crowed, lifting a visibly shaking Churchill up by the front of his coat and dragging him into the aisle."

The police came in then, ready for a scuffle. That was why Tommy stayed in the back of the line towards the conductor in the front. His reputation's reach extended far past Birmingham. All he needed to do, was be rational. The cops stopped in front of him, clubs at the ready.

Tommy put his hands up.

"Good evening gentlemen."

"These men just barged onto my train," the conductor said, looking pleadingly at the police.

"My apologies officers. Ladies, gentlemen," he addressed the passengers. "There's no need to charge us for assault. It's very important that we have a conversation with a Mr. Churchill and this train was just about to set off before we could do that."

Tommy recognized the cop behind who he assumed was the captain, a bought cop. Tommy wasn't a fool though. He wasn't going to pay the cop with witnesses present, but the man's words would count for something.

"Captain, that's Thomas Shelby. He's a war-hero," the bought cop said. There was a tense moment of silence before the captain gave a curt nod.

"Let Mr. Shelby have his chat," the man said in resignation. Tommy saw the reluctance in his face. "Back to work. No trouble here." The men in blue filed out of the train.

"Again, my apologies," Tommy said. "Good day to you sir," he said, nodding at the conducto. As he walked down the aisle he saw a woman holding a surprisingly quiet baby in her lap. They made eye contact for one brief moment before she looked quickly away in fear. He thought of Grace. The Peaky Blinders filed out of the train, Churchill sandwiched between two men.

Churchill was visibly shaking as they shoved him off of the train and escorted him forcibly away from the train-station.

"Any last words, Mr. Churchill?" Arthur sneered as they rounded the corner, away from the prying eyes of cops.

"Please… Churchill began begging. "Please, I wasn't going to do anything. This all went to far…"

"Aw shut up will ya?" Arthur cut him off by slapping masking tape over his mouth and a sack over his head. The cars were waiting not far from the station. The two men holding Churchill stuffed him into one of the cars. The others separated and Tommy and Arthur climbed into the car John was driving. They drove in silence to the shipyard. They all reached the agreed to place, parked, and walked to the pier. Tommy took the bag off of Churchill's head and ripped the masking tape off his mouth. Churchill immediately began talking again as they dragged him over to the water.

"Thomas…." "Thomas," he blubbered. "Thomas, you're a reasonable man. I'm not a threat to you. This is all one big… Let me tell you who I really am.. My name's not Churchill. It's…."

One shot to the forehead and it was over. John's face was filled with rage as he fired the gun, which was now smoking. Churchill's body thudded to the ground. John fired another shot at the body.

"John," Tommy said and John dropped the gun, turned, and stalked back to the car, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and looking as if he were about to be sick.

We should have let him talk first.

He had been curious as to what the man's name was, but the deed was done and there was no going back. Tommy bent and picked up the gun.

"Alright boys, you know what to do with the body."

He turned and walked back to the car. Arthur followed behind him. He reached the car first and climbed into the back-seat. John sat at the wheel, hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes staring into nothing. Tommy got into the passenger seat and looked over at John whose face began to quiver.

"Tilly, and the house, and the kids…." He was trying to explain. He'd never killed a man before and his nerves were shaken. Tommy couldn't remember how that felt, not after the war.

"John," Tommy said as he saw his brother start to break. He put a hand on John's shoulder.

"What?" John cried, giving a start and looking at him with wide eyes.

"I'm driving," he said, nodding at the wheel.

"Oh," John nodded, taking his hands off the steering wheel and opening the car door. Tommy walked over to the driver's side, John slid over to the passenger side, and Tommy took the wheel. No one spoke the entire drive home, not even Arthur, who usually had something to say.

Tommy looked out the window, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

It was finally over.