Ex-soldier Birmingham-gangster bets his life on luck and illegalities, adroit wit and burning passion streaking his blood-stained fingertips as a dire quarrel commence between himself and the disturbed Dane who purloined his lover.
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THE ZEALOT
IN THE WARM SNUG of the Garrison pub, an odd number of Blinders were closely congregated. It was Thomas who had called the untimely meeting to clear the air of unwarranted questions of which he knew would surface later on. Only beer was served for the comers, and although it earned him complaints around (from his brother, Arthur, that was) he needed their heads clear for his gut told him the recent attack only was a taste. If that was so and Thomas rarely found it he was wrong, they would need more men for they only had encountered four up until now, and one of their own had gotten shot in defense.
"I'm sure you all know this by now, but one of our own was shot during the shootout just this morning. Isaiah will be alright and will stand a solid example of why we need to be ready for more to come. These few men were only a scrap of the Spinietta clan and from their performance today, it appears they are careless as to who gets hurt, as long as the Peaky Blinders are eliminated."
He paused only to light a cigarette.
"More troops will be needed and I don't want a single house to think we do not have the situation under control. Every man that can shoot a gun, will shoot a gun. I want every corner manned down to Tyseley to Bordesley. We have lookout out in Sparbrook, ensuring no one will get in or out."
His command did not fall on deaf ears and all seemed to take it to heart, bracing themselves for the worst. Contact was to be made every to hours and if one beat was missed, they would conclude Italians were once again infiltrating their fortified land. Omitting such detail which could have been pacifying Thomas had decided, for he did not want a single man to relax, waiting for a breach in the agreement. He wanted them on their feet, never hesitant and taken back to their war days.
"Keep your revolver close to you at all times and know when I say this; do not hesitate to call out your suspicions—"
And the prolonged silence left only a hint to leave and downing their dark ale, the men were off in a fashion with such attitude and high spirit one might think they were not off to fend for their lives.
Arthur was the man to push men out the door, vigorously reminding them to gather their brothers in arms. Only few men were left now; Thomas himself, Arthur, Finn, and Jeremiah and Thomas looked to the preacher.
"Though Arthur mauled him well, the Italian that shot Isaiah is alive and in our keep. We plan—"
"That bastard's still alive?" interrupted Jeremiah with his teeth grit and in seconds he felt the blood go to his head. The very thought made him sick to his stomach, deeply wishing he could have been the one to bring an end to such a penny ante. It arose a loathe he rarely felt and while he knew his God would disapprove he felt it was obligatory to erase a man like that from the earth his son walked on, for although Isaiah appeared to have taken a great liking in this life, Jeremiah only wanted a safe world for his progeny.
