CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sun was just setting behind the hill, as they walked through the graveyard, solemn and quiet. Adelaide didn't like the air that hung about the space, so grey and thick and still. It seemed a bad omen, to find her treasure buried six feet deep, a gravestone to mark it, but she headed toward it nonetheless.

"There are a few things I need clarifying," Harry said, hands in pockets as the siblings walked side by side. Adelaide only had to nod to get his questions beginning. "Kimber. We made a deal, he's been seeking you out."

She knew what he was implying. The worry was evident on his face with the way his lips pulled thinly into a line. Robert walked behind them, young Col in tow, but neither listened, only held their caps to their chest superstitiously and looked about the yard as if the dead might rise any moment.

"Kimber wouldn't care about fucking us over, so we don't care about him. He'd drop us in a heartbeat if it suited him. And I've seen all I want to of him," she said, and Harry gave a grimace.

"Understandable."

"I should hope so," Adelaide said, but the teasing smile on her face was transparent. "Besides, I have something else that needs to be brought to attention."

"What is it?"

"The guns."

He watched her for a moment, eyes roaming her face. When he found whatever he was looking for, his eyes widened as swiftly as his grin did. She might've been offended at his shock, had he not looked so excited.

"Fucking hell, Adelaide, you've done it," he said, engulfing her with a bear-like hug. "You've really fucking done it."

"You'd be surprised how easy it was," she said, patting his back so he would release her. Then they were walking forward again, reaching the highest point of the graveyard, to where a wide oak sat atop the hill.

"You going to elaborate?"

"I'd rather not."

"At least give us a hint," Harry said, his tone jolly despite their surroundings.

Adelaide only nodded her head to the grave she stopped at. The stone that marked it was simple, shape with a rounded edge and scratched imperfectly. Daniel Owen, beloved father, son, and husband.

"The man who was supposedly buried here is in London. Arthur Shelby himself let it slip," she said as Robert finally joined their side, staring bleakly at the grave. The idea of digging it up unsettled them.

"The bastard will regret it," he said, teeth gritted with unease. "The IRA are in town, heard it down at the black swan. Tommy Shelby is going to let them buy the guns."

"Why don't you look certain that it's the truth?"

"Because I'm not," he said. "Tommy Shelby would rather hand the bastards in than give the guns up. He'll make an offer, no doubt of it."

"To the police? Would he really be stupid enough?" Harry said, but Adelaide shook her head.

"He still thinks he has the guns, he still thinks he has the high ground," she explained, turning away from the grave, motioning for Col to start digging. "Smart, really, giving the coppers a play. The Inspector won't be able to refuse."

The sun had disappeared completely from the sky, the night black and dark, the moon the only lamplight above the yard, and yet the headstone seemed to be illuminated purposefully, guiding their way to the guns.

"That's assuming the inspector will respect a deal," Robert said, finding her eyes amongst the shadows. She couldn't understand that look he was giving her, so guarded but meaningful. "Tommy could be delivering himself and the IRA here."

"He's walking into a trap," she said.

Adelaide was walking before they could realise she was gone. It took Harry a moment to shuffle forward, skipping between headstones in the dulled moonlight. The lights of the car lead them from the graveyard and her brother took her by the arms, leaning against the car so she would not move.

"Where are you going, Adelaide?" He asked, but Harry knew where and only wanted to know why.

"To stop it from happening."

Taking his face in her hands, she urged him to understand why, to see it in her face. She watched his eyes flicker, realisation dawning on his face like a light. Adelaide couldn't know if it was the truth he saw, but whatever it was had him pushing her into the car.

"I'll help," he said.

"No, no," Adelaide began, stopping him from moving his way to sit beside her. "He knows you. He knows who you work for. He cannot know your link to me."

"Damn your plan, Adelaide. He'll find out eventually anyway," Harry said. "I'm not letting you walk into a trap alone when you could get caught in the middle of it."

"I have to do this, Harry," she said.

There were no orders in her voice. Harry had seemed to age into maturity swiftly within the past few weeks, and it wouldn't do well to command him in this. He needed to respect her in his own right, as a brother and with her as their leader. Finally, he nodded, lips thinning to show he didn't like their agreement.

"I'll drive you."

Adelaide pushed through the large doors of the Garrison in a flurry of anxiousness. The shadow seemed to cling to her heels. A warning, they were, to the darkness she was walking into. This territory was the unknown- balanced between the knowledge of her knowing and whatever she'd sat in before. This would change things. She knew it for certain the moment her gaze fell on Tommy Shelby, sitting in the middle of the room, three empty glasses in front of him, his own face open with dark confusion.

He didn't speak, didn't stand, and Adelaide faltered in her step, lingering by the door. Thinking it through had not been the priority, and now that she stood by the feet of his home ground, she was at a loss for words. But the arrival of the IRA took the need for them anyway. Their shadows made shapes against the stained glass of the windows, coming closer and closer to the door.

Tommy's eyes went wide. It was the first time she'd ever seen him panic. In the most rapid of seconds, he was on his feet and at her side. He took her elbow in his hand and pulled her backwards, to his side so he could whisk her away.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said.

"I couldn't let you walk into a trap."

He had no time to question her. The IRA chief strode into the pub, his second by his side.

"This was not the agreement," the first man said. He was the taller of the two, with dark hair and even darker eyes, that landed on her with malice.  "You were supposed to be alone."

"Barmaids don't count," Tommy said as he positioned himself back down at the table. "She's here to pour us a drink."

She did as he said, sensing the cover, pouring three glasses of whisky as they began to talk. Only Tommy drank from it.

"Lost your thirst, eh?" Thomas said as one of the men scraped the glass against the table, pushing it away.

"Just show us where."

From his coat pocket, Tommy pulled out a map- one that would undoubtedly lead to an empty plot. Only when a packet of cash was handed over, did he slide the map across the table. "You're going to need a shovel."

"You thick fucking tinker. Did you think we'd let you live?"

The man stood then, his friend sitting lazily in the chair, like a king lounging on his throne. She could feel the arrogance, a bitter thing that had her stiffening into a glare. Tommy only watched them with a stillness that was eerie. The click of a gun came next. The man's eyes flickered to her, wide and taunting.

"You've condemned your woman to the same fate as yourself," he said. "Make your peace, Mr Shelby."

They would kill them both. She had no weapons except the blade that was hidden in her stockings. Adelaide thought about how she might defend herself, but her ideas came up empty.

"I will make my peace my own way," Tommy said. He raised his glass to the air. "To barmaids who don't count."

Adelaide didn't get time to comprehend what was happening. The doors to the Garrison were thrown open, and for a moment, she thought she might've been wrong. That the police had stayed true to the plan Robert had figured out and were capturing their targets. But one lone figure stood in the doorway.

Two gunshots rang out and Adelaide flinched at the same time Tommy reached for her, pushing her down the floor by the shoulders, crowding over her body. She looked up in time to see two bodies dropping to the floor, one after the other, laying limply as blood began to pool.

Harry stood at the doorway, gun still raised, chin tilted upwards.

"Mr Smith sends his regards."

Edited