smoke storm. peaky blinders

𝗦𝗶𝘅

𝙘 𝙝 𝙖 𝙥 𝙩 𝙚 𝙧   𝙨 𝙞 𝙭

The chaos that had ensued in Small Heath after the night in Charlie Strong's yard had seemed to increasingly get worse and worse for Adelaide. The guns, first of all, had been moved to someplace that Adelaide could not trace. The Shelbys' horse had won the race, not a good thing keeping in mind that Billy Kimber might've soon been in their tail, and Inspector Campbell had raided the local church, as well as many family homes in search of both the guns and the communists that were etched onto their lists.

Pubs had been hit too. The same pubs that the Peaky Blinders were paid to protect. It was all a set-up, of course. A perfect plan blamed on the Birmingham gang. The Inspector was a clever man when he wanted to be if these hits were anything to go from. Adelaide herself would have been delighted at such chaos, had it not meant that he was getting closer to her goal than she was. Working at such rate, he was bound to find the guns and be rid of the Peaky Blinders, while she herself had nothing to go on.

As for her encounter with John Shelby, his Aunt and then his brother, Adelaide had not told Harry or the rest of the men or women she met with for business. There was no need, she tried to convince herself. Her vulnerability that night had not put them at risk. If anything, they were now closer to the Shelbys than ever, and that must have been good- beneficial, even. Or, at least, that was what she told herself when she fretted over it.

It was when she was sitting with Harry and Rob, that thoughts of the three overtook her. She'd woken late enough, for them to prod at her, but the silence of thoughts had certainly not helped. Her brother watched her with a humoured glance. It made her angry.

"So what now?" Harry asked as she finally slid her empty glass across the short, wooden table, beckoning for another drink.

Adelaide pulled in a heavy breath. "We distract them, bombard them with enough problems that their grip on the guns will slip under the pressure."

"So what do you suggest?"

"The horses. He did the powder trick, Tommy Shelby. He's fixing a race. No one foxes a race without the approval of Billy Kimber," she said, smiling slightly as realisation set upon Harry's face. "Set a war with Kimber and he'll have much more to think about."

The plan, in theory, would work. The Peaky Blinders held enough on their plate without an out of town threat. But Billy Kimber was a tricky man, in that he liked to think himself more intelligent than he truly was. No matter the bargain, there would be something in the side with him, even with how little the Newcastle Gang would come into contact with him. Emilio Smith would deal with him, though with his power, perhaps it would not be well enough.

It was already late when she left her brother with Robert and headed to the Garrison. Winter nights were shortly cutting into the minimal light of day. The permanent thick, black smog didn't help.

The pub was quieter than the last time she'd visited. Grace stood behind the bar, delicate hands shoved into a glass with a towel, her blonde curls pulled over one shoulder. When Adelaide sat at the corner of the bar in front of her, Grace's head lifted, a small smile gracing her pink lips.

"Afternoon, Grace," Adelaide said as she pushed her bag to the bench. "Thought I'd bless you with my presence. With the promise of a drink, of course."

Grace let out a chuckle. "Whiskey or gin."

"Whiskey," she said, nodding to the end of the shelf. "Irish."