Jimmy presented his findings to Tommy at dawn, spreading Billy Kitchen's documents and his own analysis across the dining table in Tommy's house.
The family gathered in various states of exhaustion and tension—none of them had slept properly since the raid, and the uncertainty of potential prosecution hung over everything like Birmingham's perpetual smoke.
"Billy Kitchen didn't betray us," Jimmy stated without preamble. "Section D found him in Glasgow and tried to use him as an informant, but he refused. The leak is coming from someone else—someone currently active who's using Billy as convenient cover."
Arthur's fist slammed the table. "So we killed the wrong man. Except we didn't kill him at all, thanks to you."
"Billy gave me this." Jimmy distributed copies of the questions Section D had asked. "These are about recent operations—things Billy couldn't have known. Whoever the real traitor is, they have current access to sensitive information."
Tommy studied the documents with calculating intensity. "The raid specifically targeted our betting records and financial documentation. Nothing about the warehouse, nothing about Mr. Cartwright's investigation into Chandler. That's interesting."
"Why?" Polly asked.
"Because it means the traitor doesn't know about our most sensitive operations. They know gambling business, enforcement activities, daily operations. But they don't know about the Chandler investigation."
Tommy looked at Jimmy. "Who knows about Chandler besides family?"
"Just us," Jimmy confirmed. "I've been careful to keep it compartmentalized. The warehouse search was just you, me, and John. The evidence compilation has been private. Even the soldiers don't know what I'm working on—they think it's general business documentation."
"Then the traitor is focused on operational intelligence, not strategic planning," Tommy concluded. "Someone in the betting shop or enforcement division, not someone in the inner circle."
"That narrows it down," John said. "Maybe a dozen people with that level of access."
"We'll find them," Tommy decided. "But not today. Today, we deal with more immediate problems—Inspector Morrison's case and the fact that Mr. Cartwright has apparently decided to steal evidence from Chandler's warehouse without informing me first."
Jimmy set the wrapped ledger on the table. "I retrieved it last night during the meeting with Billy. The photographs are good, but the original is better. More authentic, harder to dispute. We need it for what comes next."
"Which is?" Polly asked.
"Destroying Robert Chandler." Jimmy unwrapped the ledger with careful precision. "I've compiled everything—this ledger, Harold Pierce's testimony, Dmitri Volkov's pending statement, factory records, Mary's reports. It's comprehensive and damning. The question now is deployment. How do we use this to destroy him?"
Tommy opened the ledger, scanning pages with increasing satisfaction. "This is good. Better than good. But we can't just release it publicly—people will assume the Shelbys forged evidence against a political enemy. We need a credible source, someone beyond reproach."
"A journalist," Ada suggested. She'd been quiet until now, listening to the strategic planning with her characteristic thoughtfulness. "Someone respected, with a reputation for integrity. If they break the story as an investigation rather than an accusation, people will believe it."
"I know someone," Jimmy said slowly. "Martin Webster, writes for the Birmingham Gazette. We were at King Edward's together years ago. He's made a career of exposing corruption in local government. If I bring him evidence this substantial, he'll investigate independently and publish it properly."
"Can he be trusted?" Tommy asked.
"He can be trusted to chase a story. Whether he can be trusted with our involvement is another question." Jimmy considered.
"I'll present it as an anonymous tip from a concerned citizen. Give him enough to start investigating, let him verify everything independently. That way the story breaks clean, with no connection to the Shelbys."
"Except that Chandler will know it came from us," Arthur pointed out. "He's not stupid. The timing is too convenient—he's been attacking us politically, and suddenly his past crimes are exposed? He'll know we orchestrated it."
"Let him know," Jimmy said coldly. "Let him understand that Mary Cartwright's death wasn't forgotten. That his victim had a brother who spent three months compiling evidence and years waiting for the right moment. I want him to know exactly who destroyed him and why."
The table was quiet for a moment. Then Tommy nodded. "Contact your journalist. Arrange the handoff. But be careful—if this goes wrong, if Chandler has warning or the story doesn't break properly, we've shown our hand for nothing."
"It won't go wrong," Jimmy promised. "I've been planning this for three months. Every detail is accounted for."
---
But planning and reality were different things, as Jimmy was about to discover.
He contacted Martin Webster through a carefully anonymous letter delivered to the Gazette's offices, suggesting a meeting at the library where they could talk privately.
Webster agreed, intrigued by the cryptic message and the promise of a significant story.
They met in a quiet corner of Birmingham Central Library two days later. Webster was forty now, greying and slightly heavier than Jimmy remembered, but his eyes still had that hungry look of a journalist who lived for breaking important stories.
"James Cartwright," Webster said, shaking hands. "It's been years. I heard you were disbarred—sorry about that. Working as some kind of independent investigator now?"
"Something like that." Jimmy pulled out a carefully prepared folder. "I have information about Robert Chandler. Extensive documentation of crimes he committed during the war—weapons theft, black market sales, murder. Everything verified, everything documented, everything true."
Webster's expression shifted to professional interest. "Chandler the councilman? The anti-corruption crusader?"
"The same. Turns out his entire political career is built on profits from selling stolen weapons and killing a girl who discovered his crimes."
Jimmy opened the folder. "This is explosive, Martin. Career-ending. Possibly criminal prosecution if authorities take it seriously. But I need you to investigate independently, verify everything yourself. I'm giving you the roadmap, but you have to walk the path."
Webster examined the documents with increasing excitement—excerpts from the ledger, Pierce's contact information, references to Volkov's testimony.
"This is incredible. If even half of it checks out—" He looked up sharply. "Why are you giving this to me? What's your stake in this?"
"Personal," Jimmy said simply. "The girl Chandler killed was my sister. I want justice, and I want it public. But I can't be the one to break the story—I'm too compromised, too connected to interests that would benefit from Chandler's destruction. You're respected, independent. People will believe you where they wouldn't believe me."
"Fair enough." Webster made notes furiously. "I'll need time to verify this. Interview witnesses, check records, build the case properly. Two weeks minimum, maybe three."
"Take whatever time you need," Jimmy said. "But Martin—once you start investigating, be careful. Chandler has connections. Resources. People who'll want to protect him. Don't let anyone know what you're working on until you're ready to publish."
"I've been doing this for twenty years, James. I know how to protect a story." Webster tucked the folder into his briefcase. "But I appreciate the concern. And James? If this is as big as it looks, I'm sorry about your sister. No one should die for trying to expose corruption."
After he left, Jimmy sat in the library feeling both satisfied and anxious. The story was in motion now, beyond his control, dependent on Webster's skill and timing.
All he could do was wait.
He was gathering his things to leave when he noticed Nell Morrison watching him from the reference desk. She approached hesitantly, clearly uncertain whether she was welcome after their last conversation.
"James. I saw you with Martin Webster. Are you finally destroying that councilman you've been investigating?"
"Hopefully," Jimmy admitted. "If everything goes according to plan."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then I've wasted three months and achieved nothing except revenge fantasies." He tried to smile. "But I prefer to think positively."
Nell was quiet for a moment, then spoke carefully. "I heard about the police raid on the Shelby offices. I heard you were there, that you ran from the police like a criminal. That must have been frightening."
"It was illuminating," Jimmy said. "I've been working for criminals for months, but running from police made it real. Made me understand what it means to be on the other side of the law I used to serve."
"Do you regret it? Joining them?"
Jimmy considered the question honestly. "No. I regret the circumstances that led to it—Mary's death, my disbarment, the failure of legitimate systems to provide justice. But the Shelbys? They're criminals, yes. But they're also family. Loyal, protective, willing to help me achieve justice when no one else would. I can't regret that."
"Even if it costs you everything else?" Nell's voice was gentle, sad. "Your respectability, your reputation, any chance at a normal life?"
"I lost all that when I was disbarred," Jimmy said. "The Shelbys didn't take anything from me. They gave me purpose when I had none. They gave me belonging when I was isolated. They gave me the resources to destroy my sister's killer. Whatever I've lost, I've gained something more valuable."
"I hope you're right," Nell said quietly. "I hope it's worth what you've sacrificed. Goodbye, James. I hope your plan works."
She walked away, and Jimmy watched her go with a strange mixture of regret and acceptance.
Nell represented the life he might have had—respectable, safe, conventional. But that life was impossible now, had been impossible since the day Mary died and the systems meant to provide justice failed her completely.
He was a Peaky Blinder now. A forger, a fixer, a man who solved problems through intelligence and manipulation rather than law and order.
It wasn't the life he'd imagined, but it was the life he'd chosen.
And he wouldn't apologize for it.
---
The next week passed in tense anticipation. Jimmy divided his time between helping the Shelbys defend against Inspector Morrison's investigation and waiting for word from Martin Webster.
The journalist was conducting his investigation quietly, verifying sources, building the case that would destroy Chandler publicly.
But on the eighth day, everything changed.
Jimmy was working late in his office above Morrison's when he received an unexpected visitor. Not a client, not a Shelby family member, not anyone he recognized.
The man was middle-aged, well-dressed, carrying himself with the authority of someone accustomed to wielding power.
"Mr. Cartwright," the man said, settling into the client chair without invitation. "My name is Charles Whitmore. I represent Councilman Robert Chandler. We need to talk about the investigation you've been conducting into my client's past."
Jimmy's hand moved automatically to the desk drawer where he kept the revolver. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please, Mr. Cartwright. Don't insult my intelligence or yours." Whitmore pulled out photographs—Jimmy meeting with Harold Pierce in Liverpool, Jimmy entering the warehouse with John Shelby, Jimmy giving documents to Martin Webster at the library.
"You've been very thorough. Very clever. But not quite as invisible as you thought."
Jimmy's stomach dropped. "How did you get these?"
"Councilman Chandler has resources. Connections. He's been aware of your investigation for some time now. He knows about the ledger, about Pierce, about the journalist. He knows everything."
Whitmore set a folder on the desk. "And now he's prepared to make you an offer."
"I'm not interested in anything Chandler has to offer."
"You should be." Whitmore opened the folder. "Because Councilman Chandler has compiled his own documentation. About you. Your work for the Shelbys. Your criminal activities. And most interestingly, your involvement in helping a man named Robert Walsh."
Jimmy's blood turned cold. "Walsh was years ago. I've already paid for that mistake."
"Have you?" Whitmore pulled out documents—legal papers, court records, detective reports. "Councilman Chandler has evidence that your assistance to Walsh was more extensive than previously known. New witnesses who'll testify you knew about Walsh's predatory behavior before you helped him. Documentation suggesting you were paid specifically to get a dangerous man acquitted. Evidence that could reopen the case and result in criminal prosecution—not just for forgery, but for conspiracy to obstruct justice."
"That's a lie," Jimmy said, but his voice lacked conviction. Because he could see how such evidence could be constructed, how witnesses could be pressured or paid to change their stories, how documentation could be selectively presented to suggest guilt.
Chandler was doing to him exactly what Jimmy had planned to do to Chandler—destroy his reputation through carefully constructed evidence.
"True or false doesn't matter," Whitmore said calmly. "What matters is perception. If this evidence becomes public, your reputation as Birmingham's clever fixer is destroyed. No one will trust you. No one will hire you. The Shelbys certainly won't keep you on staff if you're toxic. You'll be unemployable and legally vulnerable."
"What does Chandler want?"
"Simple. Stop the investigation. Convince your journalist friend to kill the story. Destroy the ledger and any copies you've made. Return to being the Shelbys' fixer and leave Councilman Chandler alone."
Whitmore stood. "Do this, and the evidence about Walsh remains private. Refuse, and it becomes very public very quickly. You have forty-eight hours to decide."
After he left, Jimmy sat in his office staring at the folder Whitmore had left behind. He opened it with shaking hands and read through the fabricated evidence—witness statements from people he'd never met, documents he'd never signed, a narrative constructed to destroy him as thoroughly as he'd planned to destroy Chandler.
It was brilliant and vicious. Chandler had anticipated Jimmy's investigation and prepared a counter-attack that targeted his most vulnerable point—his guilt about the Walsh case.
By threatening to make Jimmy complicit in protecting a predator, Chandler was forcing him to choose between justice for Mary and his own reputation.
The ultimatum was elegant in its cruelty: abandon Mary's justice or be destroyed as a criminal who helped child predators walk free.
Jimmy reached for the phone and called Tommy, his hand still shaking. "We need to meet. Tonight. Something's happened."
---
The Shelby family gathered at Tommy's house within the hour. Jimmy presented Whitmore's ultimatum and the evidence Chandler had compiled.
They read through it in tense silence, each of them understanding the implications.
"It's blackmail," Arthur said. "Pure blackmail. He's trying to scare you into backing down."
"It's effective blackmail," Jimmy corrected. "Even if the evidence is fabricated, once it's public, people will believe it. My entire reputation is built on being careful, thorough, ethical within the boundaries of criminal work. If I'm painted as someone who knowingly helped a child predator, that reputation is destroyed. No one will trust me."
"So we kill Chandler," Arthur said simply. "Tonight. Problem solved."
"That solves nothing," Tommy said. "If Chandler dies suspiciously right after threatening Mr. Cartwright, the evidence gets released anyway. He'll have left instructions with lawyers, with allies. Dead men can still destroy reputations."
"Then what do we do?" John asked.
Jimmy pulled out his notebook, trying to think strategically despite the panic threatening to overwhelm his careful control.
"Chandler is threatening me specifically because I'm the one investigating him. If I step back, if I visibly distance myself from the story, he might hold off on releasing the Walsh evidence."
"You're considering surrendering?" Polly's voice was sharp with disbelief.
"I'm considering strategy. Chandler wants me to stop the investigation and kill the story. I can't actually do either—Webster is independent now, and the ledger photographs are already with him. But I can make it look like I'm complying. Step back publicly, make Chandler think he's won, then proceed with the story under someone else's direction."
"That's not how Chandler will see it," Tommy said quietly. "He's not a fool. The moment Webster publishes, Chandler will know you defied the ultimatum. And he'll release the Walsh evidence anyway."
"Then we're trapped," Jimmy said, feeling the walls closing in. "Either I abandon justice for Mary, or I accept that my reputation will be destroyed. There's no third option."
"There's always a third option," Tommy said. "You taught me that. Find the leverage. Find the angle Chandler doesn't expect."
But Jimmy couldn't see it. For three months, he'd been building a case against Chandler, thinking three moves ahead, anticipating every defense.
Now Chandler had outmaneuvered him, found his weak point, and was squeezing until Jimmy had no good choices left.
The meeting broke up near midnight with no resolution. Tommy promised to think about options. Arthur offered to kill Chandler regardless of consequences.
Polly suggested approaching Chandler's wife, looking for leverage in his personal life.
But Jimmy knew the truth: Chandler had won this round. The ultimatum was perfect because it forced Jimmy to choose between two things he couldn't sacrifice—justice for Mary and his own future.
He walked back to Mrs. Price's boarding house through Birmingham's night streets, feeling more defeated than he'd felt since learning Mary was dead.
Three months of work. Perfect evidence. A story ready to break. And Chandler had destroyed it all with forty-eight hours' notice and fabricated documents about the Walsh case.
Mrs. Price was waiting in the kitchen with tea and worried eyes. "You look like a man who's been beaten, cariad. What happened?"
Jimmy told her everything—Whitmore's visit, the ultimatum, the fabricated evidence about Walsh, the impossible choice. She listened without interrupting, then poured more tea and spoke with her characteristic Welsh practicality.
"So the choice is your sister's justice or your own reputation?"
"Yes."
"That's not much of a choice, then, is it?" Mrs. Price said firmly. "Mary's been dead five years. Your reputation is all you have left. You can't sacrifice yourself to avenge a ghost."
"I can't abandon her," Jimmy protested. "She died for trying to expose Chandler's crimes. If I don't finish what she started, if I let him threaten me into silence, then her death meant nothing."
"Her death meant nothing either way," Mrs. Price said gently. "That's the terrible truth, love. Mary died, and the world kept turning, and Chandler prospered. Whether you destroy him now or not doesn't change that she's gone. But it does change whether you survive with your reputation intact."
"So I should abandon the investigation? Let Chandler win?"
"I'm saying you should think about what Mary would want. Would she want you to destroy yourself trying to avenge her? Would she want you to sacrifice everything for a ghost's justice?"
Jimmy didn't answer because he didn't know. Mary had been nineteen when she died—brave and principled and naive enough to believe that exposing corruption would be enough to stop it.
Would she understand the complexity of adult compromise? Would she forgive him for choosing survival over revenge?
He didn't know. He'd never know.
He climbed to his room and lay awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, trying to see the third option Tommy had promised existed.
Some clever solution that would let him destroy Chandler without destroying himself in the process.
But no solution came. Only morning, arriving grey and cold, with forty-six hours remaining until Chandler's deadline.
---
Tommy came to Jimmy's office the next afternoon with an unexpected visitor—a woman in her late forties, expensively dressed, with the haunted look of someone carrying secrets she'd kept too long.
"Mr. Cartwright," Tommy said, "this is Patricia Chandler. The councilman's wife. She has information you'll find interesting."
Patricia Chandler settled into the client chair and spoke without preamble. "My husband is a monster. I've known it for years, but I was too frightened to act. Too dependent on his money and position. But now he's threatening an innocent man to cover his crimes, and I can't stay silent anymore."
Jimmy leaned forward. "What do you know about your husband's past?"
"Everything," Patricia said. "I know about the weapons theft. I know about the girl he killed at the BSA factory. I know how he bought our current life with blood money."
She pulled out a small key. "And I know where he keeps evidence he thought I'd never find. Documents he's saved as insurance against potential enemies. Including detailed records of his relationship with Section D."
Jimmy took the key, feeling hope kindle for the first time since Whitmore's visit. "Section D?"
"My husband has been working with government intelligence for years. Providing information about Birmingham's gangs, helping them manipulate underworld politics. He's the one who recruited your Billy Kitchen. He's the one who's been feeding them information about the Shelbys."
Patricia's voice was cold with barely suppressed rage. "He's been playing both sides—respectable councilman fighting corruption publicly while secretly being the biggest criminal of all."
"Why are you telling me this?" Jimmy asked.
"Because I'm done protecting him. Done pretending our marriage is anything but a transaction. Done watching him destroy people and climb over their bodies to more power."
She stood. "That key opens a safe deposit box at Birmingham Central Bank. Box number 247. Inside you'll find everything you need to destroy my husband—not just for the wartime crimes, but for his current ones. Section D documentation. Lists of informants. Records of bribes and blackmail. Everything."
"If I use this," Jimmy said carefully, "your husband will know it came from you. He'll retaliate."
"He can try," Patricia said with grim satisfaction. "I'll be on a train to London by the time you open that box. I have my own resources, my own money that he doesn't control. I'm filing for divorce and leaving Birmingham entirely. Let him try to threaten me from a prison cell."
After she left, Tommy and Jimmy looked at each other across the desk.
"That's your third option," Tommy said. "Chandler threatens to destroy you with fabricated evidence about Walsh. You destroy him with real evidence about his work with Section D. Mutually assured destruction becomes actual destruction—of him."
"If the Section D connection is real," Jimmy said, "if we can prove Chandler has been working with intelligence services while pretending to be anti-corruption—"
"It destroys him completely," Tommy finished. "Not just his political career. His freedom. Section D will cut him loose to save themselves. He'll face prosecution for treason, conspiracy, everything. The Walsh evidence won't matter because he'll be too busy fighting criminal charges to worry about destroying you."
Jimmy turned the key over in his hands, feeling the weight of possibility. "We need to verify what's in the box before we move. If it's as damaging as Patricia claims—"
"Then Chandler's ultimatum becomes irrelevant. He can't blackmail you if he's in prison." Tommy stood. "But we need to move fast. You have—" He checked his watch. "—thirty-eight hours before Chandler's deadline. Let's not waste them."
They went to the bank that afternoon, presenting the key and Patricia's forged authorization. The safe deposit box was examined in a private room, and its contents were everything she'd promised and more.
Detailed correspondence between Chandler and Section D handlers. Lists of informants he'd recruited across Birmingham's underworld.
Financial records showing payments for intelligence. Documentation of his role in manipulating gang conflicts to serve government interests.
And most damningly—instructions he'd given to Section D about eliminating potential threats. Including a memo dated three weeks ago suggesting that "the Shelby fixer" should be neutralized before his investigation into past crimes became problematic.
Chandler had been planning to destroy Jimmy long before Whitmore's ultimatum. The Walsh evidence wasn't just defensive blackmail—it was part of a coordinated attack designed to eliminate the threat Jimmy represented.
"He's been playing us for months," Tommy said grimly. "Using Section D to pressure us, recruiting traitors, feeding information to police. All while presenting himself as a respectable councilman fighting corruption."
"And now we have proof," Jimmy said, photographing every document with shaking hands. "Proof that will destroy him completely. The question is how to deploy it."
"We give it all to your journalist," Tommy decided. "Everything. The wartime crimes and the current ones. Make it impossible for Chandler to defend himself because the evidence is overwhelming."
"And the Walsh evidence? The ultimatum?"
"Becomes irrelevant once Chandler is arrested. He won't have the freedom or resources to release anything. And even if he does, it'll look like desperate retaliation from a caught criminal. People won't believe him."
Tommy smiled coldly. "You wanted to destroy him, Mr. Cartwright. Now you can. Completely and irrevocably."
Jimmy felt the satisfaction building—cold, calculated, perfect. Chandler had tried to force him to choose between justice and survival.
But Patricia Chandler had given him a third option: destroy Chandler so thoroughly that he couldn't threaten anyone ever again.
"I'll contact Webster tonight," Jimmy said. "Give him everything. The original investigation plus this new evidence. Let him break the biggest corruption story Birmingham's seen in years."
"Do it," Tommy agreed. "And Mr. Cartwright? When this is over, when Chandler is ruined and your sister has justice—we're going to have a conversation about what comes next. About whether you're staying with us or trying to reclaim some version of independence."
"I'm staying," Jimmy said without hesitation. "Whatever I was before, I'm a Peaky Blinder now. That's not changing."
Tommy nodded, satisfied. "Good. Family stays together. Now go destroy that bastard properly."
Jimmy walked out of the bank carrying copies of evidence that would end Robert Chandler's life as he knew it.
The ultimatum had forty-eight hours. The investigation had three months of careful preparation. And now, thanks to Patricia Chandler's courage and rage, Jimmy had everything he needed to achieve complete victory.
Chandler had tried to destroy him. Had threatened him with fabricated evidence and impossible choices.
But Jimmy Cartwright was done being threatened.
It was time to be terrifying instead.