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22
John had slipped away for a minute with a mumbled excuse. But it wasn't until she saw Tatiana lingering by the doorway, barely hidden by orange light, that Anastasiya knew something was happening. Something she didn't know about.
"You aren't keeping me out of things again, are you sister?"
If Tatiana was startled by the sudden appearance by her shoulder, she didn't show it. Remaining solidly planted against the wall, she scoffed, pushing off and walking away.
"Why do you think I'm here?" Tatiana lead her down the hallway to another study room that was hidden away behind the dining room. "We go down to see the treasury now."
"I'm surprised I get to see this."
Tatiana brushes her off. "We don't question Aunt's business."
Tommy Shelby was in the room when they arrived, watched closely by the soldier that would see them further into the treasury. It was hidden by a vault in her uncle's private office, hidden by heavy drapes and many locks.
They walked for longer than they expected, the tunnel looking endless in the dingy, green-cast light, that clung to the shadows. Her eyes were drawn to the edges of the ceiling, spring with weeds and darkened leaves, and dripping with icy water that was both rhythmic and deafening. As they neared their destination, dog barks echoed through the walls, like growls of wolves. They were the size of wolves too, Ana noticed as they pushed open the last of the locked metal gates to see a tiny room, surrounded by soldiers but with her aunt and uncle in the middle with an unknown man.
"We are now underneath the river Thames."
Tatiana showed them in, leaving Tommy to stand next to the man as she sat beside Ana and Izabella. The slim red dress hind by her feet, slipping against the floor like a pool of blood, spilling beneath Ana's low heels.
"Your jeweller."
The man nodded, his wide, brimmed hat finally lifting to reveal a handsome face and bright eyes. His face creased with laughter lines, mocking as he looked down at the cuffs on his wrists.
"I don't think they trust me Tommy."
Tommy nodded to his hands. "Mr Solomons is the only jeweller I trust in London."
Her uncle stepped forward, releasing the cuffs. Mr Solomons rubbed his wrists smugly, setting out to stand in front of the table that the Russians now say at.
