Tommy listened to Jimmy's proposal in the private office with the same expression he'd worn when evaluating the Chandler operation—calculated assessment of risk and potential reward. Polly sat in the corner, cigarette smoke curling around her like physical manifestation of disapproval.
"You want to let Ada continue betraying us," Tommy said. Not a question.
"I want to control her betrayal." Jimmy spread his notes across the desk—three different operational plans converging into single strategy. "Make it serve our interests instead of undermining them. She gets to act on principle. Winters gets help that doesn't threaten us fundamentally. We maintain influence over both campaigns."
"That's manipulation," Polly observed.
"That's strategy." Jimmy met her eyes. "Ada will continue helping Winters regardless of what we do. We can exile her and lose control completely, or we can guide her 'resistance' in directions that serve multiple purposes. She thinks she's being heroic. We let her think that while managing outcomes."
Tommy studied the plans with his usual precision. "And Webb?"
"Show him Birmingham's reality. Not threats—just truth. Protection rackets that actually provide services. Illegal operations that serve community needs. The gap between theoretical governance and practical power."
Jimmy flipped to his Webb strategy. "He's intelligent enough to understand complexity once he sees it. Convert him from hostile puppet to willing ally."
"Willing ally who knows about our involvement?" Tommy's skepticism was evident.
"Willing ally who accepts that Shelby connections don't prevent him from helping people. Who chooses pragmatic cooperation over pure opposition." Jimmy tapped his notes. "He'll work with us when our interests align. Oppose us when they don't. That's more sustainable than forced compliance."
Polly stubbed out her cigarette. "You're describing triple manipulation. Webb thinks he's independent. Ada thinks she's resisting. We think we're in control. What happens when any of them discover the truth?"
"They won't. That's the elegance of it—everyone believes their own version of reality because each version is partially true."
Jimmy kept his voice steady despite knowing Polly saw through every justification. "Webb IS independent, just within parameters I've established. Ada IS resisting, just in ways that don't threaten core interests. Tommy IS achieving his goals, just through influence rather than control."
Tommy lit a cigarette, thinking through implications. "And Section D?"
"We feed them intelligence through Ada. Make them think they're successfully opposing us while actually receiving managed information. They document our operations, but only operations we want documented. Eventually, we'll have enough evidence of their domestic spying to neutralize them through mutual assured destruction."
The room was quiet for a long moment. Tommy and Polly exchanged one of their wordless communications—decades of family history compressed into glances.
"It's brutal," Tommy said finally. "But effective. Do it."
"And Ada?" Polly asked. "You're comfortable letting Jimmy manipulate your sister?"
"I'm comfortable letting Jimmy protect her from consequences of her own choices." Tommy's voice was flat. "She committed treason. The alternative is exile or worse. If Jimmy can manage her betrayal into something useful, that's better than destroying her."
Polly's expression suggested she saw this differently. But she nodded, signaling acceptance if not approval.
Jimmy gathered his papers, preparing to execute the operation. Seventy-two hours had become sixty. The clock was running.
"One more thing," Tommy said as Jimmy reached the door. "Don't lose yourself in this. Manipulation for family protection is one thing. Manipulation as default response to every problem is something else. Keep that distinction clear."
"I will."
But walking out of Tommy's office, Jimmy wondered if that distinction still existed or if he'd already crossed the line without noticing.
---
Small Heath looked different at dawn—factory smoke just beginning to build, workers starting their shifts, the honest poverty of Birmingham's working-class neighborhoods visible without evening's concealing shadows. Jimmy walked Webb through streets the teacher knew intellectually but had never properly seen.
"This is the Garrison," Jimmy said, gesturing to the pub that anchored Shelby operations. "Officially, it's just a drinking establishment. Actually, it's where disputes get settled when police won't help.
Man has wages stolen by his supervisor—goes to the Garrison, presents evidence, Shelbys ensure he's paid what he's owed. Woman's husband drinks away rent money—Garrison bartender cuts him off, sometimes arranges conversation that motivates better behavior."
Webb said nothing, just observed with the careful attention of teacher evaluating new information.
They continued walking. Jimmy showed him protection rackets that actually protected—shopkeepers paying Shelbys for security that prevented other gangs from extorting them. Illegal betting operations that provided entertainment safer than legal alternatives where police took bribes and cheated outcomes.
The complex web of services that the Shelbys provided to communities that legitimate government had abandoned.
"This is what Birmingham actually looks like," Jimmy said. "Not the theoretical governance you'd find in books. Not the democratic ideals politicians perform. This is power working to serve people because the people with power choose to serve rather than exploit."
"It's still criminal," Webb said quietly.
"It is. But so is Lawrence Blackwood's legal exploitation of tenants through landlord laws he helped write. So is the police corruption that lets factory owners violate safety regulations if bribes are paid."
Jimmy stopped in front of a small grocery where the owner was arranging produce. "Ask him about the Shelbys. Go ahead."
Webb approached the shopkeeper hesitantly. "Excuse me. Can I ask you about the Shelby protection payments?"
The man looked up, recognized Webb from campaign materials. "You're the schoolteacher running for council."
"I am. I'm trying to understand how Birmingham actually works."
"Shelbys?" The shopkeeper shrugged. "I pay them ten pounds monthly. For that, my shop doesn't get robbed, gangs from other territories don't harass my customers, and if I have problems with suppliers or difficult customers, someone handles it.
Before the Shelbys controlled this area, I paid fifteen pounds monthly to three different gangs and got nothing but threats for my money. Shelbys are honest criminals—you pay, they deliver, nobody bothers you."
"And if you didn't pay?"
"Then I'd have problems. But everyone pays something—protection rackets, police bribes, landlord exploitation. At least Shelbys provide value for their fee."
Webb thanked the man and returned to Jimmy, expression troubled.
They spent the morning walking through Small Heath, Digbeth, Sparkbrook—the working-class wards that would determine the election. Webb spoke to factory workers, shopkeepers, mothers with children.
Every conversation revealed the same reality: the Shelbys were criminals, but they were criminals who kept their word, who provided services legitimate government didn't, who were part of Birmingham's fabric rather than external parasites.
By noon, Webb looked exhausted—not physically but intellectually. The weight of complexity pressing against his idealistic certainties.
"You wanted me to see that Shelby connections don't prevent me from helping people," Webb said as they sat on a bench near the cemetery. "That the question isn't whether I'm connected to criminals, but whether those criminals serve working families or exploit them."
"Something like that."
"It's more complicated than I wanted to believe." Webb was quiet for a moment. "I thought politics was about choosing right over wrong. You're showing me it's about choosing which compromise serves the most people."
"Welcome to Birmingham governance."
Webb pulled out the campaign materials he'd been carrying—speeches about reform, promises about fighting corruption, idealistic language about democratic principles. He read them over with new eyes.
"I can't make these promises anymore," he said finally. "Not honestly. If I'm connected to the Shelbys, I can't pretend to be pure reformer fighting criminal influence. That's the exact hypocrisy I criticized in other politicians."
"So don't pretend. Be something different—pragmatic reformer who works within reality rather than ignoring it. Politician who admits power structures exist and chooses to work with them when serving people requires it."
"That's still corruption."
"That's pragmatism." Jimmy kept his voice steady, guiding without forcing. "You can withdraw and accomplish nothing. Or you can stay in the race, win the election, and help Small Heath families knowing your help is complicated by Shelby connections. Neither choice is pure. Question is which impure choice serves more people."
Webb stared at his campaign materials for a long time. Jimmy waited, letting the silence work. This was the crucial moment—Webb's choice between ideological purity and practical impact.
"If I stay," Webb said slowly, "it's on my terms. Not as puppet, but as independent politician who happens to have Shelby connections. I'll work with you when our interests align. Oppose you when they don't. Vote my conscience even when it costs you politically."
"Agreed."
"And you'll be honest with me. No more hidden funding sources or managed information. If I'm accepting compromise, I do it knowingly, not as manipulated fool."
Jimmy felt the knife-edge of this negotiation. Webb was demanding exactly what Jimmy couldn't provide—full honesty. But he could provide the illusion of honesty while maintaining strategic control.
"I'll be as honest as Birmingham politics allows," Jimmy said. "Which means honest about goals, strategic about methods. I won't lie to you about what we're trying to achieve. How we achieve it requires some... flexibility."
"That's not the same as honesty."
"It's the most honesty anyone in Birmingham politics offers." Jimmy met Webb's eyes directly. "You want perfection, withdraw. You want impact, accept complication."
Webb was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded. "I'm staying. But understand—I'm not your puppet. I'm your complicated ally. There's a difference."
"I understand."
They shook hands on the compromise that felt like victory and surrender simultaneously. Webb thought he'd negotiated independence. Jimmy had guided him to exactly that conclusion while maintaining the control that mattered.
The first piece was in place. Now for the harder manipulations.
---
Ada's residence felt different in early evening light—less like sanctuary, more like territory where difficult conversations happened. She answered Jimmy's knock with wariness that hadn't been present weeks ago.
"James."
"We need to talk. About your betrayal and what happens next."
She let him in without argument, the resignation of someone who'd been expecting this conversation. They settled in her sitting room, familiar books and photographs surrounding them like witnesses to friendship's deterioration.
"I told Tommy about your work with Winters," Jimmy said without preamble. "He knows you're the leak. Arthur wanted you exiled immediately. John agreed. The family vote was unanimous—you betrayed us, consequences follow."
Ada's face paled but her voice stayed steady. "So you're here to deliver Tommy's judgment?"
"I'm here to offer an alternative." Jimmy pulled out his notebook, where he'd documented the strategy that saved and damned her simultaneously. "I convinced Tommy to let you continue helping Winters—but under our control."
"What?"
"You keep attending Reform Club meetings, supporting Winters' campaign, providing her with information. But the information you provide is managed—true enough to be useful, limited enough not to threaten us fundamentally.
You get to act on your principles. Winters gets genuine help. The Shelbys maintain influence over both campaigns."
Ada stared at him. "You want me to actually betray Winters while pretending to help her?"
"No. I want you to actually help Winters while helping us simultaneously. This isn't betrayal of Winters—it's strategic support that serves multiple interests."
Jimmy leaned forward. "You believe Winters should win. We believe Webb should win. Neither of us will convince the other. But both candidates can strengthen their campaigns through this arrangement. You provide Winters with real assistance in ways that don't fundamentally undermine Webb. Everybody benefits."
"That's insane manipulation."
"That's politics. Finding solutions where competing interests can coexist." Jimmy kept his voice reasonable, as though proposing collaboration rather than exploitation. "Tommy wanted you exiled. I'm giving you a way to stay in the family, continue supporting Winters, maintain your conscience—all while protecting you from consequences of choices you've already made."
Ada stood, pacing her sitting room with agitated energy. "You're describing controlled betrayal. Making my principles serve Shelby interests while letting me believe I'm acting independently."
"I'm describing reality. You were always choosing between competing goods—family loyalty and political principle. I'm making that choice sustainable instead of destructive."
"By manipulating me."
"By protecting you." Jimmy allowed emotion into his voice—genuine concern mixed with strategic calculation. "Ada, you committed treason against the family. Without this arrangement, you lose everything—family, home, resources, belonging. This way, you keep it all while actually helping Winters. That's not manipulation. That's mercy."
She faced him directly, eyes bright with anger and hurt. "When did you become this, James? When did you start treating people like chess pieces while calling it protection?"
"When the alternative became watching people I care about destroy themselves through principled stupidity." The words came out harsher than intended. "You chose resistance. I'm making your resistance survivable. You're welcome."
"I didn't ask for your protection."
"You asked for it the moment you committed treason." Jimmy stood, matching her intensity. "You want to help Winters? Fine. I'll make sure your help doesn't get you exiled. You want to maintain your conscience? Excellent. I'll structure your choices so conscience and family can coexist.
What you won't get is the satisfaction of suffering heroically for your principles while I watch you destroyed."
They faced each other across the sitting room, the space heavy with everything unsaid.
"I hate this," Ada said finally. "I hate that you're manipulating me. I hate that you're probably right that this is the best option available. I hate that you've become the kind of person who thinks this is acceptable."
"I hate it too." The admission surprised them both. "But I'm doing it anyway. Because family matters more than your approval or my self-image."
Ada sat down heavily. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
Jimmy explained the operational details with clinical precision. Ada would continue her Reform Club activities, maintain her relationship with Winters' campaign, provide assistance that Jimmy pre-approved.
In exchange, she'd receive intelligence about Webb's campaign—carefully curated information that made her help to Winters more effective while not truly threatening Shelby interests.
"You're creating a triple-cross," Ada said when he finished. "I think I'm helping Winters independently. Winters thinks she's getting unsolicited assistance. You're controlling both of us."
"I'm managing a complicated situation in ways that protect everyone involved."
"That's not the same thing."
"It's the best thing available." Jimmy stood, preparing to leave. "You don't have to like this arrangement, Ada. You just have to accept it. The alternative is exile and losing everything you've worked to build."
"And if I refuse? If I expose this whole manipulation?"
"Then you destroy yourself, damage Winters' campaign with scandal, and accomplish nothing except proving you value gesture over outcome." Jimmy's voice was cold. "You're too intelligent for that. You'll accept the arrangement, hate me for creating it, and continue acting on principles I've made sustainable."
He left without waiting for her response. Behind him, Ada sat in her sitting room surrounded by books about political theory and justice, facing the reality that principles without pragmatism were just performance.
Jimmy walked back toward Small Heath feeling the weight of what he'd done. He'd protected Ada by deceiving her, saved her by manipulating her, demonstrated love through cruelty disguised as mercy.
Intelligence without empathy. Strategy without conscience. Protection through violation.
The blood kept seeping somewhere, even when surfaces appeared clean.
---
[SECTION D SAFE HOUSE ]
Captain Shaw received the latest intelligence report from Asset: Observer with satisfaction. The asset continued providing valuable information, still unaware they were serving government intelligence operations.
"Asset reports Webb continuing in race despite discovering Shelby connections," Lieutenant Hendricks summarized. "Also mentions tensions within Shelby organization about political operations. Asset believes they're successfully undermining criminal influence in Birmingham government."
"Excellent." Shaw made notes in his ledger. "Asset's idealism makes them incredibly useful. They document everything, analyze strategic implications, provide context we couldn't access through paid informants."
"Asset also provided information about Shelby enforcement operations in Digbeth. Detailed schedule of protection collections, names of soldiers involved."
Shaw frowned slightly, reviewing the information. "That's unusually detailed. Asset normally focuses on political intelligence. This operational data feels... comprehensive."
"Problem?"
"Not necessarily. But unusually specific intelligence sometimes means someone wants you to have it." Shaw set aside the report. "Continue monitoring. If Asset is being fed information rather than discovering it independently, we need to know."
"You think the Shelbys have identified Asset?"
*"I think the Shelbys are intelligent enough to recognize patterns. If they've identified their leak, they might be managing it rather than eliminating it. Feed Asset information that appears valuable but actually serves their interests."
Shaw pulled out a communication protocol. "Increase verification of Asset intelligence. Cross-reference with other sources. Make sure we're not being manipulated."*
Hendricks departed to implement new procedures. Shaw returned to his files, the slight doubt nagging at him.
Intelligence work was always about trust and verification. Asset: Observer had been reliable for months, providing actionable intelligence about Shelby operations. But Shaw hadn't survived twenty years in intelligence by accepting information uncritically.
If the Shelbys had identified their leak, Ada's usefulness became questionable. But determining that required careful observation without alerting her to suspicion.
The game continued. Someone was manipulating someone. Shaw's job was ensuring he wasn't the one being played.
---
The Shelby betting shop was closed for the night when Jimmy presented his complete operational plan to Tommy and Polly. The three of them sat in the back room with whiskey and cigarettes, reviewing the strategy that would guide Birmingham's political future.
"Three layers of reality," Jimmy explained, spreading his documentation across the table. "Webb thinks he's maintained independence after seeing Birmingham's complexity. Actually, I've guided him to accept exactly the relationship we need—cooperation when interests align, opposition when they don't, all within parameters I've established."
"Second layer?" Tommy asked.
"Ada thinks she's betraying us to help Winters. Actually, she's providing Winters with assistance that strengthens both campaigns without fundamentally threatening our interests. She maintains her principles. Winters gets genuine help. We maintain strategic influence."
Polly lit a fresh cigarette. "And the third layer?"
"Section D thinks they're using Ada to gather intelligence about our operations. Actually, we're feeding them managed information through her. They document what we want documented. Eventually, we'll have enough evidence of their domestic spying to neutralize them through exposure."
Tommy studied the documentation with characteristic precision. "You're managing three different versions of reality simultaneously."
"Four, if you count what we believe versus what's actually happening." Jimmy poured himself whiskey. "Everyone believes they're acting freely while I control outcomes. Webb exercises independence I've made safe. Ada resists in ways I've made useful. Section D gathers intelligence I've made misleading. All of them think they're winning."
"That's sociopathy," Polly said flatly. "Treating people like chess pieces to be manipulated. Managing their emotions like tactical problems."
"It's strategy that protects people I care about." Jimmy met her eyes directly. "The alternative was exile for Ada, violence for Webb, and Section D continuing to undermine us unopposed. This way, everyone gets acceptable outcomes."
"Everyone except you," Polly observed. "You get to live with knowing you've manipulated everyone you claim to care about. That you've turned friendship and loyalty into tools for achieving objectives."
"I can live with that."
"Can you?" Polly's gaze was sharp. "Or have you just convinced yourself that you can? There's a difference between accepting costs and not feeling them anymore."
Tommy interrupted before the conversation could spiral further. "Does it work? Operationally?"
"It works. Webb's campaign continues with real independence within managed parameters. Ada's 'resistance' serves our interests while satisfying her conscience. Section D receives intelligence that appears valuable but actually serves us."
Jimmy pulled out timeline documentation. "Three weeks until election. Webb wins because both progressive campaigns strengthen each other rather than competing destructively. Blackwood loses. We achieve political foothold without obvious control."
"And when someone discovers the manipulation?"
"They won't. That's the elegance—each person's version of reality is true enough to be believed. Webb IS independent, just strategically. Ada IS helping Winters, just carefully. Section D IS gathering intelligence, just managed."
Jimmy closed his notebook. "People believe what they want to believe. I'm giving them versions they'll accept."
Tommy nodded slowly. "Approved. Execute the plan. Keep me updated on complications."
Polly remained silent until Tommy left, then turned to Jimmy with the expression that meant difficult truth was coming.
"You've become very good at this. Too good." She stubbed out her cigarette. "You're managing people the way Tommy manages accounts—numbers to be balanced, variables to be controlled. You've lost sight of the fact that they're humans with agency, not pieces in your strategic games."
"I haven't lost sight of anything. I'm protecting them by managing outcomes."
"You're violating them by denying their reality." Polly's voice was sharp. "Ada thinks she's resisting heroically. You've made her a puppet who believes she's a princess. Webb thinks he's choosing complexity over purity. You've manipulated him into the exact relationship you wanted.
That's not protection. That's exploitation dressed as care."
"What should I have done? Let Ada be exiled? Let Webb withdraw and accomplish nothing?"
"Maybe. Maybe exile and failure are consequences people deserve for their choices. Maybe protecting people from consequences of their own decisions is just another form of control."
Polly stood, preparing to leave. "I'm not saying you're wrong, Jimmy. I'm saying you're becoming someone you won't recognize in a mirror. Be careful. Intelligence without empathy isn't strategy. It's just cruelty with planning."
She left him alone in the betting shop with whiskey and documentation of the brilliant operation he'd designed. The operation that saved everyone while costing pieces of his own humanity he'd never recover.
But it would work. That was what mattered.
Intelligence trumping violence. Strategy achieving outcomes force couldn't. Manipulation protecting people who'd never know they were protected.
Jimmy finished his whiskey and gathered his papers. Three weeks until the election. Hundreds of decisions to manage. Multiple realities to maintain.
The work never ended. The pieces kept moving. And Jimmy Cartwright stood at the center of it all, pulling strings nobody knew existed, achieving perfect outcomes through perfect deception.
He was exactly where he belonged.
Using his brilliant mind to solve impossible problems. Protecting people from themselves. Standing with family while manipulating them.
The devil's advocate had become the devil. But at least he'd saved everyone in the process.
Even if the cost was everything that made saving them meaningful.