Angel

39

            "Arthur, for fuck's sake what is it?" John asked. "Yes, what's so important you've called me all the way from Camden Town?" I asked, reaching my brothers in the shipyard. "No. We wait for Tommy," Arthur replied sternly as I took a seat in the empty chair next to John. I watched through furrowed brows as Arthur pulled a cloth over the small table in front of him, placing a brown bagged bottle of champagne on top. "I've got a stolen statue back there with its dick hanging out waiting to be melted down," Charlie complained, "Tell us. Tell Tommy later." "Yeah, look, he's not here. He's not here. I'm going," John sniffed, rising to his feet. "Hold your horses. There he is," Arthur pointed. I rose to my feet, turning around to see Tommy quickly approaching. "Alright? What is it?" Tommy asked bluntly as he reached us. "Arthur's fucking giving us all this shit," John hissed. "Come on, come on," Tommy spoke, urging John to stay. I watched as Arthur put the champagne bottle to his teeth, struggling to pop it open. "Arthur you got wire on the fucking cork, give it here," I sighed, reaching out and taking the bottle from him. "Right. Gentlemen! A-and Lena," Arthur called out, scrambling to stand on the top of the chair as I removed the wire from the cork. I raised an eyebrow, watching as Arthur swallowed, removing his hat as he surveyed us all. "Linda is up the swanny. I'm gonna be a fucking dad," Arthur told us proudly.

            "Fuck off," I gasped, my hand on the bottle slipping as I accidentally sent the cork flying. The boys began to laugh as Arthur stepped off the chair, standing before Tommy. "Arthur, I knew you had it in you," Tommy muttered. "I knew he had it in him," Charlie chuckled as he quickly embraced Arthur. "September, she reckons. Her tits feel different already," Arthur told us. "I could have done without that information, but congratulations," I chuckled, embracing Arthur tightly as I smiled. "Yeah, that's not the only thing that's gonna be different, brother. You're fucked now man," John laughed. I rolled my eyes and brought the champagne bottle to my lips, drinking it straight. "Fucked. Absolutely fucked," John chuckled, clapping Arthur's shoulder. "Oh, nothing's gonna change, John," Arthur insisted, and I bit back a laugh. "Goodbye, Arthur," Tommy nodded, "I have a meeting I have to go to." "Yeah," Arthur mumbled in understanding as the two embraced, "Yeah, of course you do. Yeah, you...we got you mate." "Congratulations," Tommy muttered earnestly, stepping back. "I'm gonna be a dad," Arthur repeated himself. "Proud of you," Tommy told him, clasping his hand once more before turning away from us.

            "Lena, come on," Tommy called out as he walked away. I quickly shoved the bottle into John's hands and gave Arthur one last congratulatory smile before quickly hurrying after my brother. "Russians?" I asked, and he nodded in reply. "I've kept you and Alfie up to date on our plans, our business with them. We're to give them a mission report tonight," Tommy replied, and I nodded in response. Night fell quickly as we drove to the manor, nothing but silence between us. "Izabella Petrovna will be there," Tommy muttered as we entered into the house. I nodded in response. "I'm not gonna tell you to remain silent during this meal, I trust you," Tommy muttered. "I know," I mumbled, following him into the dining room, where two empty seats awaited us, next to the duchess Tatiana. "Your highness, Mr. Tommy Shelby, and Miss Elena Shelby," the doorman announced as we entered the room. "Welcome, Mr. and Miss Shelby," Leon spoke as we reached the table, "I believe you've met everyone apart from my wife, Grand Duchess Izabella Petrovna." I looked to my right, at the seated duchess, greeting her with a nod, my lips pressed together tightly. "Please, take a seat," Leon gestured to the empty chairs. I followed my brothers lead, sitting down in the empty chair next to him. "Before we begin, Mr. Shelby, we must offer you our sincere condolences on your recent loss, which some of us witnessed," Tatiana began softly, "And we are glad you seem to have healed well, Miss Shelby."

            I nodded politely in response, not daring to utter a word as my brother locked gazes with Father Hughes. "Did you drive, Mr. Shelby?" Tatiana asked. "Yes," Tommy replied stiffly, his gaze unmoving from the priest. "They say you're an expert on cars," Tatiana spoke after a moment of brief awkward silence. "Yes, I am," Tommy replied. "I am curious. What was your father's profession?" Izabella Petrovna asked, and Tommy's gaze moved to her. "Well, he told fortunes, and he stole horses," I spoke up. "Often, he would tell a man that his horse would be stolen, and they would marvel at his powers when it was," Tommy added. Another small silence filled the room as dinner was placed before us. "Before we eat, should we say grace?" Father Hughes spoke. Tommy remained unmoving as the rest of the table clasped their hands together, slightly bowing their heads. "For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen," the Father prayed. "We're not here to eat," Tommy muttered with a shake of his head, "We're here to do business. What we have to say can be said before the main course. Then we will leave you all to your evening." "Grand Duchess, I must apologize for the bad manners of my compatriot," Father Hughes sighed. "This is a report on the mission's progress so far," I interrupted him quickly.

            "I have made only one copy for security. Who should I give it to?" Tommy questioned, pulling an envelope from his waistcoat. "My husband is in charge of this operation," the grand duchess replied, watching as Tommy handed the envelope over to Leon. "But, since there will no doubt be vodka later, perhaps you should give it to me for safe-keeping," the grand duchess reached out, taking the envelope from her husband. "Speak, Mr. Shelby, while we eat," she turned her attention to Tommy. "Five factory foremen on our payroll have begun a campaign of victimization against communist workers in five factories across Birmingham. Anger amongst the workers will grow, but we will control it. On the night of June 21st, a general strike will be called across the city. Protests will develop into riots, and all police that are not already under our control will be busy. The city will be paralyzed," Tommy informed them. "So how will you move the train?" Leon asked. "We have two locomotive drivers who've been allocated to drive the midnight goods train to London, which Lena will oversee. The armored vehicles will be waiting on flatbeds," Tommy answered. "And ammunition?" the grand duchess asked. "The ammunition..." Tommy started. "I have to say that this soup is exceptional," Father Hughes interrupted, "Absolutely delicious."

            "Ammunition, incendiaries will already have been packed up and crated for transport to Istanbul," Tommy ignored the priest. "And how long to London?" Leon asked. "The train won't reach London. All the goods will be unloaded at a coal yard at St. Albans and put onto Shelby Company trucks. From there, they will go directly to the Poplar Docks," I answered, knowing that portion would be partly under my supervision. "Your Highness, if you're having difficulty understanding their accent, then I can go through the plan with you at a later date," Hughes interrupted once more. "If there is no ship waiting for our men, all goods will be dumped into the sea before first light," Tommy ensured. "What happens when they discover the armored cars are missing?" one of the Russian men asked. "During the rioting, the Lanchester factory will be firebombed. A scrap metal dealer of my acquaintance will declare that all the armored vehicles are in the wreckage and should be written off as salvage. No one will know that they are in your possession," Tommy replied. "We formulated this plan when we met at Birmingham. I'm certain that nothing has been overlooked," Hughes assured them. "This is the amount of extra expense I believe we will incur for trucks and fuels," Tommy interrupted, scribbling something down on a napkin and handing it across the table to the grand duchess, "I trust you will respond in kind." "But of course, Mr. Shelby," the duchess replied. Tommy nudged me in the side as the room fell into silence and we rose to our feet. "Before we go, I would like it known that I'm unable to swallow food in the same room as this priest. Enjoy your evening," Tommy muttered, taking one last glance around the room. We exited the room quickly, stopping outside the front door to the manor, knowing one of them would soon be after us. Hardly a few seconds had passed when Tatiana reached the front door. "Walk with us," Tommy muttered, and she obliged, trailing along behind us as we walked to the car.

            Tommy handed us each a cigarette, and I lit mine quickly, taking a deep drag as Tommy lit Tatiana's and then his own. "The priest is passing information about the robbery to a Lloyds underwriter called Monkland. He, in turn, is passing information to the Soviet Embassy," Tommy started, "You want him dead? I'll kill him, no charge." "Why would the priest pass information to our enemies?" Tatiana asked, stopping in her tracks. "I'm being paid to act and observe, like a soldier. The complexities are your business. Go and speak to Izabella. I trust her to decide," Tommy told her. "You were able to contain your business dealings even after what happened. Perhaps you didn't love her," Tatiana mused. My blood boiled in my veins at her words. At once, Tommy whirled around, his hand tightening around her throat as he leaned in towards her ear. "She's here by my side, and she says, 'Don't trust these people'," he hissed, "Now give me permission to kill the priest." Without another word, he slowly let go of her throat, and beckoned me to follow him the rest of the way to the car. "You'd do well not to insult my late sister-in-law," I hissed at the duchess before following after Tommy. "Take me home, I have a fiancé to return to," I muttered as I slid into the passenger seat of the car.