It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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My name is Thomas Shelby, and today, I'm going to kill a man.
Today is Derby Day, and the murder will take place this afternoon at the Epsom races. It may be that I'm able to escape after the killing. The odds are not good, which is why I'm writing this letter. I've been forced by Agents of the Crown to carry out this murder, and in the event of my own death. I want the following facts to be known: My family are innocent of any involvement and while some of them are guilty of other things, I've not shared details of this mission with any of them and how company assets were used.
Agents of the Crown joined forces with pro-treaty Fenians to arrange this murder. I believe the government intends to falsely blame the anti-treaty IRA. Therefore, the bullet I fire this afternoon will be the starting gun for civil war in Ireland. The man I've been instructed to kill is Field Marshall Russell, formerly Black and Tan commander who committed many atrocities in the county of Cork. There's no remorse in my heart at the prospect of his death. However, the conspiracy behind the killing is cause for the international concern. Such is the gravity of my mission that after I've served my purpose I believe they intend to kill me.
I, therefore, want to name a particular individual in this letter. The agent who's initiated and orchestrated this crime is Major Chester Campbell of the British Secret Intelligence Service. He chose me for this dirty business as an act of vengeance, prompted by hatred of longstanding. In the events of my death, it is imperative he be brought to justice. If you're reading this, then I'm dead already. I hope that living as you do, in a truly free country, you'll be able to make the facts above known to the world.
Yours sincerely,
Thomas Shelby
THE ROOM WAS QUIET AND SOMBER, a single lamp glowed in darkness as Thomas put the pen down on the table. He stared at the paper and at the open locket next to it, deep in thoughts for a few minutes. His breathing slowed down as he felt layers of unsettling emotion, somehow, he was scared of dying for a split moment. He wasn't scared for himself, but for the woman he loves.
A stinging and bitter tingle ran across his skin as he let out a loud sigh. The man got out of his chair and walked over to the large window, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. As he opened it, a blast of chilly air greeted him. With a burdened and troubled heart, he closed his eyes, as though time slowed as the gravity of the situation weighed him down.
His demons were clinging to him again, yet a pair of warm hands suddenly wrapped around his body, "What are you doing so late in the night?" Mercedes asked, half yawning as she rested her forehead on his back.
"Did I wake up my angel?" Thomas said, gently squeezing the hands that encircled him before turning to face her. Her hair was a mess from sleeping, yet she looked stunning in his eyes. Mercy shrugged and hugged him again, her face buried in the crook of his neck.
