smoke storm. peaky blinders

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sun was just setting behind the hill, as they walked through the graveyard, solemn and quiet. Adelaide didn't like the air that hung about the space, so grey and thick and still. It seemed a bad omen, to find her treasure buried six feet deep, a gravestone to mark it, but she headed toward it nonetheless.

"There are a few things I need clarifying," Harry said, hands in pockets as the siblings walked side by side. Adelaide only had to nod to get his questions beginning. "Kimber. We made a deal, he's been seeking you out."

She knew what he was implying. The worry was evident on his face with the way his lips pulled thinly into a line. Robert walked behind them, young Col in tow, but neither listened, only held their caps to their chest superstitiously and looked about the yard as if the dead might rise any moment.

"Kimber wouldn't care about fucking us over, so we don't care about him. He'd drop us in a heartbeat if it suited him. And I've seen all I want to of him," she said, and Harry gave a grimace.

"Understandable."

"I should hope so," Adelaide said, but the teasing smile on her face was transparent. "Besides, I have something else that needs to be brought to attention."

"What is it?"

"The guns."

He watched her for a moment, eyes roaming her face. When he found whatever he was looking for, his eyes widened as swiftly as his grin did. She might've been offended at his shock, had he not looked so excited.

"Fucking hell, Adelaide, you've done it," he said, engulfing her with a bear-like hug. "You've really fucking done it."

"You'd be surprised how easy it was," she said, patting his back so he would release her. Then they were walking forward again, reaching the highest point of the graveyard, to where a wide oak sat atop the hill.

"You going to elaborate?"

"I'd rather not."

"At least give us a hint," Harry said, his tone jolly despite their surroundings.

Adelaide only nodded her head to the grave she stopped at. The stone that marked it was simple, shape with a rounded edge and scratched imperfectly. Daniel Owen, beloved father, son, and husband.

"The man who was supposedly buried here is in London. Arthur Shelby himself let it slip," she said as Robert finally joined their side, staring bleakly at the grave. The idea of digging it up unsettled them.

"The bastard will regret it," he said, teeth gritted with unease. "The IRA are in town, heard it down at the black swan. Tommy Shelby is going to let them buy the guns."

"Why don't you look certain that it's the truth?"

"Because I'm not," he said. "Tommy Shelby would rather hand the bastards in than give the guns up. He'll make an offer, no doubt of it."

"To the police? Would he really be stupid enough?" Harry said, but Adelaide shook her head.

"He still thinks he has the guns, he still thinks he has the high ground," she explained, turning away from the grave, motioning for Col to start digging. "Smart, really, giving the coppers a play. The Inspector won't be able to refuse."

The sun had disappeared completely from the sky, the night black and dark, the moon the only lamplight above the yard, and yet the headstone seemed to be illuminated purposefully, guiding their way to the guns.

"That's assuming the inspector will respect a deal," Robert said, finding her eyes amongst the shadows. She couldn't understand that look he was giving her, so guarded but meaningful. "Tommy could be delivering himself and the IRA here."