𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 loomed over the canal like a silent vigil over the grim scene playing out in its shadow. Through the smoke stepped out two men - Thomas Shelby and Danny Owen, the latter shaking like a leaf on an autumn breeze. Glancing from beneath his peaked cap, Tommy spotted the three expecting, coat garbed figures on the other side of the canal.
There, as negotiated, stood Caterina flanked by two Italians, brothers of the fallen waiter.
As the condemned man glanced to his left, his face grew even paler than it was before. A coal barge glided over the oily waters, inching closer like his planned demise.
"Danny, as you know, the man you killed was Italian. And those two men down there are his brothers, and the woman, that's their boss," for a moment Danny lets his eyes flicker towards the grim figures glaring at him from beneath their fedoras, a rush of remorse filling his heart.
"Now if I let the Italians do this they'll cut off your manhood and let you drain. That's how those bastards do things," they stopped by the edge of the canal, the ill-fated man stepping forward.
"So to stop a war breaking out between us and the Italians, and to save you from their barbarity, I said I should dispatch you myself." Danny nods, having expected such conclusion, eyes fixed at the dreary waters bellow. He let out a shuddered breath, clutching his cap tightly to his chest.
"They are here to witness."
He then reached into his pocket and fished out a packet of cigarettes, offering one to the condemned man. With shaky hands he took a big drag before peering at Thomas with tears in his eyes.
"I died over there anyway Tommy. I left my fucking brains in the mud."
Thomas nods gently in agreement. "Yeah. You have any last requests comrade?"
One of the scowling men beside her stirred, checking his watch and huffing out in irritation. "Will they hurry up already? Siamo arrivati per l'esecuzione, non l'opera in tre atti."
Whipping her head towards the man she hissed through her teeth. "Basta, Leonardo. You will have justice. Or do you doubt me?" The tone of her voice left no space for discussion.
"Apologies, signora."
"In the bleak midwinter..."
Danny nods, tightly screwing his eyes shut in preparation. The boat is alongside. A moment later, Tommy pulls the trigger followed by a resonating bang echoing through the yard, the body of Danny Whizz-Bang falling face first onto the deck of the boat as it passed, a gruesome splash of blood and brains painting the executioners face.
"The blood debt has been paid." She stated gravely, and then let her eyes soften at the two grieving brothers. "Go home."
With a thankful nod of their heads and another look over at where Tommy stood, the two brothers disappeared, satisfied with the job done. She felt a twinge of guilt creeping at her for deceiving them so. If it were someone of her kin that had been killed, she knew she would have taken the life of the murderer herself. It's for the greater good, she reasoned. If I keep telling that to myself I might even start believing it.
After making sure the two left, she crossed the flimsy bridge connecting the two sides of the canal to where Tommy Shelby stood, still gazing at the Cut, an unreadable look on his face - as if he was miles away in his head. She joined him on his left, holding out a white embroidered cloth for him to take. He nodded his head in thanks before wiping the remains of blood off of his face.
"I'll ruin your fancy handkerchief with blood." He remarked, tracing the embroidered initials CC now speckled with angry red blots.
"Throw it out, keep it. I'll just make a new one." She kicked a pebble into the murky water of the canal. "He's off to London now, aye?"
"Aye."
"Well, I'd say you owe me a drink, Shelby." The said man turned in her direction, eyebrow raising in question. People were rarely so bold in addressing him, and yet he didn't find himself irked by the woman's forward, temperamental demeanour.
"Do you ever stop demanding things?" The tone of his voice was supposed to be irritated but even she could see the corner of his lips curling into a smile.
She let out a huff of laughter as they moved towards the road. "Get used to it, Mr Shelby. I'm insatiable."
Instead of replying he shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets only to fish out a pack of cigarettes, offering for her to take one.
"Thomas."
It was more than a simple word - or an informal introduction. It was a sign of a deal struck, and somewhere along that line, a friendship. Pleasantly surprised, she gave him a grin, flashing her pearly whites as she swiftly drew one from his pack.
"Caterina."
*:･ﾟ♛･ﾟ:*
Polly's vigorous polishing of a brass pot was suddenly interrupted by the noise of someone entering the Shelby household. Even before he rounded into the dining room she knew it was Thomas, easily recognising his purposeful strides. She glanced up as he produced a wad of notes and two bags of coins, placing them on the table in front of her. Reaching forward and weighing them in her hand she concluded.
"A bad week." It was more of a statement, than a question.
Thomas removed his hat, sitting down opposite of her. He rubbed his eyes wearily, far too drained to talk about it.
Polly began counting the money and spoke up casually, hiding her anxiety. "There was no moon last night. I looked." Ignoring her musing he lit a cigarette, staring blankly at the opposite wall.
"Did you do the right thing?"
"Yes I did the right thing." He snapped firmly, rising from his chair and turning away.
Polly stopped counting, staring at him in suspicion. Since he was a little boy, wreaking havoc of much smaller scale than now, she could read him like a book.
"Thomas. I heard Caterina was here, about Danny." That stopped him in his tracks. He turned back towards his aunt, letting her continue.
Polly's demeanour changed, suddenly growing more serious than she had been. She put the bags back on the table before narrowing her eyes at her nephew. "You listen very carefully. If as much as a hair falls from her head because of this business you've been running, by the Oath Tommy Shelby, I will cut you. Am I clear?"
He crossed his arms over his chest, levelling her with a stare of his own. "How did you befriend her? Not only is she Italian - and God knows you've always been against foreigners - but runs a bloody business, too."
"Church book club."
"Polly."
For a moment she hesitates, and then sighs, eyes dropping towards the roaring fire to her right. "I'm not proud of it, but when you boys were away there was a time when money was lacking. I took from my mouth and gave to Finn and John's children. But then Martha got sick and couldn't work so I had to get a loan."
She stopped, waiting to see if he would react. "All the women talked about a girl that ruled the Italian Quarter and lend money to widows and those who needed it for a fair fee."
"She knew who I was, what we did. A fierce little thing but I could see she was lost and alone. So I came round more often, and so did Ada - the two of them went to school together, you know - and then Finn. Did you know she taught him how to read?" She pursed her lips in a tight smile, glancing at where Tommy stood brooding in the doorway.
"I love her Tommy. As if she were my own daughter."
"Noted Pol. Noted."
He turned on his heel and disappeared up the stairs, coat flickering behind him. Polly knew he didn't dispose of the guns, and she shouldn't have expected anything different. Stubborn as those horses of his. Sighing she turned to the pile of coins laying atop the table. She could feel, there are dangerous times to come.
*:･ﾟ♛･ﾟ:*
Caterina stared nervously at the entrance of The Garrison. It was not that she had never been to a pub, no - she successfully owned three of them - but this was an unknown territory to her. Even as she stood on the street she could feel the mistrustful glares of factory workers. She did, in fact, stick out as a sore thumb in the filthy, garish Garrison Lane, her sharp navy blue coat and polished shoes, with neatly combed hair beneath a soft black beret being a mocking contrasts to the poverty of Small Heath.
She sucked the cold air in through her teeth and pushed through the door. The men enjoying their pints looked over to inspect the newcomer, their conversations lowering to a murmur as she strode in, head held high. Disregarding the several hostile glares thrown in her direction, she tightened the coat around her and marched to the bar.
A blonde woman stood behind the bar, a cloth slung over her shoulder and sleeves of her pale blue blouse rolled up to her elbows as she washed the glasses in the sink behind the counter.
"Give me a gin. And double it." She fished some money from her silk purse, slamming it down on the counter sticky from all the spilled drinks.
The woman looked up from her work, surprised by the appearance of the unknown woman. "Unusual to see a woman here in this hole." She remarked, sharp Irish accent flowing into her words.
"Unusual to hear an Irishwoman, in Birmingham of all places." She countered, pleased to have found someone willing to counter her bants.
The bartender chuckled, refilling her glass before shrugging noncommittally. "New beginnings I suppose."
"I'll drink to that. Caterina Cardinale." She stretched her hand over the counter to shake her hand. The blonde gratefully accepted, flashing her a wide smile.
She took a moment to properly take a look at the friendly barmaid that served her drink. A pretty, pale face framed with blonde tresses and lively blue eyes. For a moment she found herself self conscious over the lack of that gentle femininity, dressed in her tweed suit and coat, boyish compared to the effortless class that radiated off the barmaid.
"Grace, pleased to meet you. What brings you to The Garrison?"
"Just business." At that the Irish woman looked up from the glass she had been polishing. It was the way Caterina said business that made her believe it was not an ordinary affair. Emboldened by her instantaneous camaraderie with the petite Italian she pipped up feigning curiosity.
"With the Peaky Blinders?"
That earned her a raised eyebrow. "Heard of 'em? You sound scared Irish girl." Caterina sipped her gin, leaning on her elbow.
"Well, Harry said they own half the Birmingham."
She responded with an unladylike snort. They bloody wish they owned half of Birmingham. "You don't seem so scared of me."
"Should I be?"
"I own the other half."
Their conversation was suddenly cut short as two loud figures bounded up to the bar, the taller being the first to spot Caterina absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass. He swiftly poked the other man with an elbow to his ribs efficiently shutting him up.
" 'Ello lovely lady what's that charming face doin' in a place like this?"
Glancing in the direction of the gravel like voice she finally spotted the two strange men. The tall, lanky one that attempted to flirt with her sported a thick moustache over his lip while the shorter one smirked cheekily, a toothpick dangling from his lip. Besides their elegant appearance, the duo had another peculiar similarity - a peaked cap over their heads, an object she became awfully familiar with over the last few days.
"Business."
The moustached men squinted at her, as if assessing her appearance. "You a whore?"
The sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated through the pub as she slapped him soundly over the right cheek, heads turning in alarm to look at the fuming woman that dared to hit one of the most feared men in Birmingham.
"I'm a businesswoman." She hissed furiously, glaring upwards. The shorter man hollered with laughter at the hilarity of the situation. A tiny woman slapping his brother so hard she left a red imprint of a ring on his right cheek, oh he'll never live that one down.
"Aye they call themselves a lot these days."
Just as she was about to slap him on the other side, too, a firm voice stopped them.
"Arthur. Stop your nonsense."
Thomas Shelby stood at the doorway, eyes narrowed at his two brothers causing trouble in their favourite pub. Caterina retracted her hand, going for the her liquor instead.
"Thomas, just in time. I was just about to shoot your brother."
Rolling his eyes he crossed the pub, shrugging the coat off his shoulders."Get in line for that. Arthur, John - our newest business partner, Caterina Cardinale." He glanced at her glass halfway filled with transparent liquid, silently asking for permission. She nodded and he proceeded to down the remainder of her gin.
"Alright Tommy. What the fuck are you doing?"
"Caterina here is a representative of the Cardinale Import." He gestured in her general direction from where he stood leaning on the bar, hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets, a look of disinterest plastered across his face. He was growing tired of his brothers' constant nagging.
"Well we don't need no fuckin' lemons, Tommy."
"We have a common interest."
The two scoffed cynically before Arthur continued. "Trustin' Italians now? You think we 'aven't heard of your ways here in Small Heath?"
Suddenly the one with a toothpick hanging from his mouth - John Shelby, she made sure to remember - piped up. "Is it true you 'ave Earl of Coventry under your protection?"
She nodded in affirmation."Aye I do. Lovely man, always pays on time. Tried to fuck me over once so I burned down his car warehouse." That seemed to shut the brothers up, until John smirked, eyes flitting between Caterina and his brother.
"Feisty and beautiful; you sure know how to pick 'em Tommy."
Growing tired of their petty accusations he raised a cigarette threateningly in their direction, making a shooing motion with it. "Alright that's enough chit chat. You two should be at the betting shop." He straightened from leaning at the counter, opening the door behind him.
"Barmaid, a bottle of whiskey." He signalled to Grace, before motioning to Caterina to pass through the door he was holding open for her.
She snapped her head to flash one last friendly smile at the barmaid behind the counter."It was lovely meeting you, Grace. Swing by Nechells and we'll have some tea, yeah? Us girls gotta stay together." And then disappeared into the little room, doors slamming behind them.
"I'd love that, thank you." Whispered the blonde, more to herself than anyone else.
"I heard Monaghan Boy won again. I applaud you - it's an incredibly smart plan. I would have definitely done the same thing - if I was into bookmaking, that is." Thomas snorted in amusement at the woman's preaching as he poured them some whiskey. She nodded appreciatively, leaning into the leather seats of the booth, amber liquid sloshing about her glass before she necked it. Setting the now empty glass on the table she grew serious, lacing her fingers in front of her.
"Four families run this city: Cardinale, Changretta, Kimber and Shelby. I reckon - if our plan goes as expected - we can make it three by the end of the year."
*:･ﾟ♛･ﾟ:*
"Any progress with the Shelby's?"
The museum they chose as their meeting place was sparsely crowded, Grace standing in front of the large painting on the wall, pretending to admire its lively depictions of Renaissance Italy. She squared her shoulders as Campbell came to stand behind her, before delivering her report.
"A woman came in yesterday. She introduced herself as Caterina Cardinale and then went to private booth with Thomas Shelby. I suspect they discussed some kind of business, possibly the guns."
She bit her lip, feeling the guilt creep over her shoulder. "I believe I successfully befriended her as she invited me over for tea." She's a bad person, she reasoned with herself, and yet why do I feel as if I'm betraying her?
The Inspector squeezed the end of his moustache angrily, a fire familiar to Grace flickering in his eyes as he pretended to regard the painting in front of them. But the last time she had seen it, it was channelled at the IRA. "Excellent Grace. I knew that little harlot had her fingers in the pie."
"Try to uncover as subtly as possible the nature of her partnership with the Peaky Blinders."
He smiled softly at her, a semblance of pride in his eyes. "Well done indeed, Grace."
Tipping his hat in her direction, he turned, disappearing among the marble statues, leaving Grace Burgess - for the very first time - conflicted over the mission on her hands.