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𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 occurred on the day Billy Kimber died.
First, the Liverpool warehouses that had formerly been rented by Cardinale Company Import - the deal in question was struck at the Cheltenham races - were taken over by the latter and immediately transferred into Roberto Cardinale's possession with a help of some family friends on high legal positions.
Second, a deal made by Thomas and Caterina was finally settled. It was a contract of mutual benefit between the two, made seemingly long time ago, on the day fate and Danny Whizz-bang helped them meet, that they split the Worcester races business - Shelby Company LTD picking the bookmaking profit while the Clarkes monopolised the sales of liquor on the racetracks.
The bricks fell into their place, and the day seemed almost perfect for such a victory. It would have been, were it not for a meddling barmaid and one stubborn Inspector.
Caterina Cardinale clutched her left arm tightly. The red liquid seeping out of her wound made her fingers stick, unsettlingly warm and creeping down her shirt sleeve.
If that old bastard Campbell had positioned his hand any more to the right she would've met her maker on the cold tiles of Birmingham's train station.
That was not quite they way she intended to go.
The graze on her arm was a small price to pay for what she did to her opposing party - she faintly remembered the Inspector buckling at his knees, the very similar trickle of blood flowing down his immaculate suit. In came the London bound train rushing onto the platform, its ripping whistle masking the gunshots.
Most prominent in her memory remained Grace's pitched scream, luggage falling out of her grasp and reaching down to steady him.
The young woman rounded the corner of the Bradford street sharply, eager to exit the shadowy lanes of Digbeth now the sun had set. It was dangerous place for one to find themselves unarmed, especially a woman. Especially a woman like her.
Blood pounding in her ears and head bowed, Caterina hardly looked around herself, the only thing running through her mind being the monotonous rhythm of her shoes hitting the damp pavement.
Left, right, left - pass the puddle - left.. look behind you... left, right-
Four figures stood in her path, their silhouettes elongated by the street lamp. The light narrowed down their coat clad shoulders and onto the black muddied boots, faces hidden by the very familiar type of hat.
Though their faces were unknown to her, the features they all possessed churned her insides most unpleasantly; the eagle-like slope of their noses and slicked dark hair, and the olive shade of their skin so similar to her own.
