The sounds of men, drunk on whiskey and joy over a victorious soccer match, changed very little over the centuries.
The Garrison, despite its new and fancier stylistic choices, was still at heart, a blue color establishment, as evidenced by the loud boasting of uneducated, but passionate voices. If she closed her eyes and just took in the ambiance, Anna could easily pretend to be in a British tavern of the 14th century or a American sports bar in the 21st.
There really was something reassuring about the way people never changed. Except, of course, for the fact that change was exactly her trade of choice, and being a person herself, a daunting task even in the smallest of senses. Never mind the course of an entire World War.
Another thing that hadn't changed since the dawn of the human race, was people's instinctive reaction to powerful men (and Miranda Priestley). Her back was turned to the entrance, but she knew Tommy Shelby had walked in only by the way the bartender abandoned a well dressed costumer, mid-pour, retrieved the very expensive whiskey and the glass cups from the top shelf rushed to the small private area adjacent to the counter. Anna could only catch a brief glance of a very particular haircut, before the door to the private area was closed, and the room deflated to an almost normal level of revel.
It was reassuring how easy it was to differentiate the Peaky Blinders from ordinary working men. They dressed and talked the same; most of them even had guns strapped to their visible holsters; But the line between them was made clear when Tommy Shelby walked in and caused half of the men to almost salute and the other half to throw mildly aprehensive, looks his way.
That was good. No gangster was ever good in the biblical sense of the word. She didn't expect, and in this particular case, didn't want them to be. It was, however, important to make sure this gangster was, at the very least, stable and moral. The head of the Peaky Blinders inspired petrified fear or burning hate in everyone, except his own people. She could work with that.
"Excuse me miss, but mister Shelby asked if you would like to join him for a drink." The bartender said, pointing to the sliding doors.
"How nice of him to ask." Anna said, smirking on the inside. Eyes followed her around the room in variant degrees of curiosity.
She expected the room to have more luxurious furniture than the outside, but the chairs and table seemed to be of the same, if a little cleaner. As the bartender closed the door behind her, Tommy leaned back on his chair, blowing a large cloud of cancerous smoak up into the air. Then righted himself on his seat and pointed to another one with his cigarette.
She sat down without a word and waited for him to say something. Her mind already racing for other arguments to convince him, not only of what and who she was, but also of the urgency of her mission. In her experience it took about 3 encounters of very careful explaining before a mark could be turned into an ally; But her experience had, to that day, only been with homely housewives and young soldiers. So it had no impact whatsoever over the speed of her heartbeat.
"I talk to my dead wife sometimes. In my dreams." He said. None of her comebacks quite fit with that sentence so Anna refrained from responding with a unintelligible sound and stayed silent.
"My aunt Polly sees the future in peoples tea leaves and my father used to tell people's fortune at carnivals." He let the silence stretch a bit longer before asking. "Do you know what that means Ms. Strauss?"
"No" She answered in a flat voice.
"It means" He leaned his elbows on the table and locked clear eyes on her."That I know bullshit when I hear it"
"Mr. Shelby I-"His raised right hand stopped her mid sentence.
He pulled another drag of his cigarrette, held it in for a second and blew it out again before continuing:
"My father used to tell farmers that they were about to encounter shifting luck in their future, and then send me and my brothers at night to steal their horses. My aunt has great intuition that she mistakes for second sight in order to feel close to our heritage and I know very well that my dreams have a lot more to do with the opium I take before bed than with the willingness of my wife's ghost to visit and give me sage advice."
"I know what bullshit sounds and tastes and smells like Ms, Strauss. Which is why I'm so intrigued with your particular brand of it." With a dull thunk he dropped a large roll of money on the table and leaned back on his chair. "Because even being bullshit, it is the profitable kind and that is another thing I am very well acquainted with."
"So you don't believe that I'm telling the truth?"
"No, I don't. But I did make 8000 pounds on your very unlikely advice. And that makes me wonder how exactly you came about that kind of information, seeing as rigging football matches is not as easy as doping up a horse." He took a sip of whiskey and poured her a hefty dose. "I would pay a lot for that kind of secret"
"I'm not bullshitting you Mr. Shelby." She infused some sadness in her mostly professional voice and looked down at the money before brushing back her auburn curls and looking at him once more.
"Would you like some more proof?"
Thommy Shelby looked back at her with a poker face that would make her Social Management teacher jealous. His shoulders squared with hers reminded her even more of a poker game and she hoped he could catch truth on her expression.
"No"
"Mr. Shelby I assure you-"
"I just got out of a political mess that almost got my entire family hanged Ms. Strauss. If you want to talk business, we can do that, but I will not discuss the impending doom of the world and what I can do about it!" His voice sounded like steel but it felt hollow and frail to her. Like cracked ice.
Anna was ready for that situation and that did not stop her at all from being disappointed with the turn of events. He needed to believe in her soon because helping Tommy Shelby to increase his fortune would not get Adolf Hitler killed.
"Well then," she sighed and sipped the golden liquid in her cup. "Let's make a deal Mr. Shelby." She took a small sheet of paper from her pocket and placed it between them.
"Those are 3 more sports matches that are about to happen in the next 3 weeks."
"Two of these are American matches" he interrupted, looking down at the paper.
"Yes, and I'm sure your sister can place the bets for you in New York." She waved her hand. "Now, here is my deal: After you win each of those bets, you will call me -the number to my hotel is there at the bottom- and you will give me one hour of your time, so that I can convince you of my endeavor." Her voice was infused with a small amount of well practiced exasperation.
"Will I?" he said still looking down at the paper. Face blank.
"Yes you will" She got up from the table and paused with her back turned to him, before opening the door. "Also, call Charlie's doctor, and have him put epilepsy into your son's records. The British government won't be able to legally put him in the front lines that way."
Anna then opened the door and left.