Devil | A Solomons

THIRTY SIX - A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

Irina thought the last thing on Earth she wanted to do was approach Thomas Shelby asking for his help, but since their phone call, she came to realise than the actual last thing on Earth she wanted to do was ask Alfie Solomons for help.

She was alone in London, and she always had been. It had never been a problem for Irina, who thrived off of her independent nature and felt most comfortable in her own company, and up until then, she had never needed anybody's help for anything.

However, the day had come. After checking with the head of her offices in Liverpool, she had discovered that over thirty-thousand pounds had been stolen from the vaults, but the factory had been left untouched.

Irina had taken a day to mull over the advice Tommy had given her. She didn't want to ask Alfie for his help, she didn't even want to see his face, but the worry that perhaps the robbery of the vault in Liverpool was just the beginning was eating away at her viciously. Irina's pride and joy was her business, her entire life was her business and it's success, so the idea of having her empire torn down was simply terrifying to her.

It was midday when Irina ventured out of her office, following the length of the canal a short distance down from her building. It was still sunny for early September, but dark clouds over the horizon in the distance gave Irina an ominous feeling as she walked alone.

She approached Alfie's offices, removing her sunglasses and sliding them into her handbag as she waited by the door, peering inside into what looked like an endless, black corridor.

"Can I help you?"

"Ollie, isn't it?" Irina smiled at the dark haired young man that appeared out of what seemed like thin air.

"Yes," he nodded, a shyness in his voice and stature that reminded Irina of Kristian, "Is there something you need?"

"I need to speak with Mr Solomons, is he available?"

"He's a very busy man, he usually only takes meetings that have been arranged in advanced. I can take a look at his diary and see if I can fit you in later this week?"

Irina smiled at him, knowing he was shaking in his boots at having to use authority towards a woman like herself. His eye contact was scattered and he repeatedly scratched the back of his neck or twisted the collar of his shirt, but Irina didn't mind, in fact, she found it quite adorable.

"Could you ask him, please? Tell him it's Irina Zakharov, and it's rather urgent."

"I'll see what I can do."

Ollie nodded and disappeared with his head down into the black corridor, walking so fast it seemed like his feet were moving quicker than the rest his body could keep up with.

Irina stood alone for a while, picking at the skin around her nails and eavesdropping on what turned out to be incredibly dull conversations between men loading crates of stock onto canal boats behind her.

"What's a gorgeous woman like you doing hanging around Camden?"

Irina turned around to find a sweaty gentleman dressed in trousers that were rolled up at the legs and an open white dress shirt, oil staining the front of it and red suspenders hanging down from his waist. He was handsome, dark black hair slicked back with strands falling across his face, deep brown eyes that made him look dangerous, but in an intriguing way.

"I'm here to see Alfie." She replied, looking him up and down as he did the same to her.

"Yeah? What about?"

She scoffed, crossing her arms, "None of your business."

"None of my business," he mused, a confident smirk on his lips, "Can you at least tell me your name?"