Jimmy hadn't slept. Again.
He sat at his desk as dawn broke over Birmingham, surrounded by papers documenting multiple simultaneous crises. The blood had been seeping through his ceiling for the past hour—Morrison starting early, blade working through meat in preparation for the day's business.
Jimmy barely noticed anymore. The smell, the sound, the dark stain spreading across his ceiling had become background texture to existence spent solving problems.
But these problems didn't have elegant solutions.
Problem One: Ada's Exile
She wouldn't speak to him. Wouldn't look at him. Wouldn't participate in family business beyond what was absolutely necessary.
Her absence created genuine security gap—she'd been their connection to progressive politics, their bridge to reform movements. Without her, they were losing intelligence about political opposition before it materialized.
Tommy had mentioned it yesterday: "We need Reform Club intelligence. Ada usually provides that. Can you get it another way?"
Jimmy had no answer. Every other source required time to develop, trust to build, relationships to establish. Things he couldn't manufacture quickly when he needed them.
Problem Two: Mrs. Price's Impossible Request
She was recovering in hospital, stable but requiring extended care. Jimmy had visited twice, each time trying to just sit with her, be present without strategizing.
Each time his mind had spun with treatment options, specialist consultations, recovery timelines, logistical arrangements.
She'd asked him to leave both times. Gently, sadly, but firmly. "Come back when you remember how to be human, cariad."
Problem Three: Webb and the IRA
The threat was real, imminent, credible. Webb needed protection. But Tommy had rejected Jimmy's perfect plan, demanded honesty instead of manipulation. "Tell him the truth. Let him decide."
And somehow that straightforward approach felt more impossible than the elaborate deception Jimmy had designed.
Problem Four: Billy's Conditional Help
Genuine partnership where Jimmy didn't control outcomes. Trust without manipulation. Working with variables he couldn't predict or manage.
Everything his strategic thinking had trained him to eliminate.
Problem Five: Tommy's Lost Faith
For the first time since joining the Shelbys, Jimmy's strategic brilliance had been rejected. Not because it wouldn't work—because the method was wrong.
His entire value was built on being able to solve impossible problems, and Tommy had just told him his solutions weren't acceptable anymore.
Jimmy reviewed his notes, trying to find angles, identify leverage points, design strategies that would solve everything simultaneously.
Nothing emerged. Just the hollow recognition that every problem required something he'd systematically eliminated: genuine human trust.
The blood kept seeping. The dawn kept coming. And Jimmy sat alone with the terrifying realization that for the first time in eighteen months, he genuinely didn't know what to do.
---
The morning meeting at the Shelby betting shop was smaller than usual—Tommy, Polly, Jimmy, with Arthur and John arriving late after handling overnight protection racket issues.
The atmosphere was tense, everyone aware that yesterday's confrontation with Ada had shifted something fundamental.
Tommy got straight to business. "Webb protection. Where do we stand?"
Jimmy pulled out his revised plans—stripped of elaborate manipulation, reduced to basic security protocols. "Without using deception to remove him temporarily from Birmingham, we need direct protection. Guards positioned at his home and office. Monitored routes between locations. Intelligence gathering on IRA movements."
"That's Arthur's approach," Tommy observed. "Crude force instead of strategic elegance."
"You rejected strategic elegance," Jimmy said, hearing the bitterness in his own voice and not entirely caring. "This is what remains: simple security through visible force."
"I rejected manipulation, not strategy. There's a difference." Tommy lit a cigarette, studying Jimmy carefully. "You're going to Webb's office this morning. You're telling him about the IRA threat honestly.
No manipulation, no guided decision-making. Just truth. Then we protect whatever choice he makes."
"What if he chooses wrong?"
"Then that's his choice to make. Not ours to manipulate." Tommy's voice was firm. "You can't solve this through cleverness, Jimmy. You broke the trust necessary for the solution. Now you need to fix that trust, and trust can't be manipulated into existence."
Polly spoke for the first time, her gaze sharp. "The problem isn't Webb's choice. The problem is you can't guarantee outcomes when people make their own decisions. And uncertainty terrifies you more than any actual threat."
"Uncertainty introduces variables I can't control—"
"Exactly." Polly's interruption was gentle but devastating. "You've spent eighteen months optimizing away every messy human element—trust, honesty, genuine connection.
Now you need those things to solve this problem, and you don't have them anymore."
Jimmy had no counter-argument. She was right. The strategic brilliance that made him valuable had eliminated the human elements now required for success.
"Go to Webb," Tommy said. "Tell him truth. Let him decide. We'll handle protection regardless of his choice."
Jimmy gathered his papers and left, feeling like man walking to execution. Not his own death—something worse. The death of certainty that intelligence always had answer.
---
Birmingham City Hall loomed ahead, Victorian stone and classical columns representing legitimate power Jimmy had spent months trying to infiltrate.
Webb's office was on the second floor—modest space for junior councilman, nothing like the grand chambers senior politicians occupied.
Jimmy climbed the stairs slowly, rehearsing approaches. How did you tell someone they were in mortal danger without guiding them toward preferred response?
How did you present information honestly while accepting they might choose option you knew was wrong?
He knocked on Webb's door.
"Come in."
Webb sat at his desk reviewing education funding proposals, reading glasses perched on his nose. The office was exactly as Jimmy remembered from previous visits: student drawings pinned to bulletin board, photograph of Webb's late wife on the desk, education policy manuals filling bookshelves.
Everything modest but purposeful, reflecting genuine care about the work rather than political theater.
"Mr. Cartwright." Webb removed his glasses, gesturing to the visitor's chair. "I wondered when you'd arrive."
Jimmy sat, noting Webb's calm demeanor. No fear, no visible concern. "We need to discuss a serious matter. Intelligence has confirmed—"
"That the IRA is planning to kill me as symbol of Shelby political expansion," Webb finished. "I know."
Jimmy stopped mid-sentence, thrown completely off balance. "You know?"
"Danny Whizzbang came to see me three days ago. Told me directly about the threat, explained the intelligence sources, laid out the danger honestly."
Webb's voice was matter-of-fact. "I appreciated that he came to me as adult capable of handling difficult information rather than trying to manage my response."
"Danny told you." Jimmy's mind raced, trying to process this complication. "Without consulting me first. Without strategic coordination."
"He respected my autonomy in ways you wouldn't have." Webb leaned back in his chair. "And I've already decided. I'm staying in Birmingham. I'm continuing my work despite the danger."
"Staying means genuine risk of death."
"I know. But the work matters more than my safety." Webb gestured to papers on his desk—education funding proposals, housing committee reports, constituent letters. "I've spent six months doing actual good for Birmingham families. Not performing politics, not positioning for advancement.
Actually helping people."
He met Jimmy's eyes directly. "If I run, that work stops. Someone else takes this seat, probably someone worse. Someone who doesn't care about Small Heath children getting proper education or working families having decent housing."
"The IRA will kill you—"
"Maybe. Probably." Webb's calm was unnerving. "But if I spend my life running from danger, what kind of life is that? What kind of example am I setting? What kind of principles am I actually maintaining?"
Jimmy experienced something unfamiliar: respect for courage he couldn't control. Webb wasn't being brave because Jimmy had positioned him to be brave. Wasn't choosing principle because manipulation had guided him toward principle.
This was genuine human courage—real, unpredictable, messy, admirable.
"I don't understand," Jimmy admitted. "You know the risks. You know death is probable, not just possible. Why stay?"
"Because running means the IRA wins. Means organized crime gets to decide who serves in government and who doesn't. Means fear determines who gets to help working families."
Webb's voice strengthened. "I'm not running from fear, Mr. Cartwright. I'm staying from principle."
The distinction landed with uncomfortable weight. Webb was choosing values over safety, authentic courage over strategic positioning. Everything Jimmy had optimized away in pursuit of perfect outcomes.
"The question isn't whether I trust you," Webb continued. "The question is whether you can work with someone you haven't manipulated into cooperation. Whether you can protect someone who's making their own decision instead of following your plan."
He leaned forward, expression serious. "Can you protect genuine human courage instead of managed compliance? Can you work with real choice that introduces chaos into your perfect systems?"
Jimmy realized the terrible truth: he didn't know.
His entire approach to protection involved controlling variables—positioning people in safe scenarios, managing their decisions to eliminate risk, ensuring optimal outcomes through strategic manipulation.
Webb's genuine courage created variables Jimmy couldn't control. Real human choice introduced unpredictability into systems designed to eliminate uncertainty.
"I don't know," Jimmy said honestly. "I've spent eighteen months learning to see people as chess pieces to be positioned. I don't know how to protect someone who's refusing to be positioned."
"Then learn." Webb's voice was gentle but firm. "Because I'm not changing my decision to accommodate your methods. I'm staying. I'm continuing my work.
And if you want to protect me, you'll need to figure out how to do that while respecting my agency rather than violating it."
Jimmy left Webb's office in a daze, walking through City Hall's corridors without seeing them. Webb's challenge echoed in his mind with uncomfortable persistence.
Can you protect someone who's making their own decision instead of following your plan?
For the first time since joining the Shelbys, Jimmy genuinely didn't know the answer.
---
The evening strategy session at the betting shop brought everyone together—Tommy, Polly, Arthur, John, Jimmy, and Danny.
The atmosphere was tense, everyone recognizing they were facing threat that required coordination rather than individual brilliance.
"Webb's staying," Jimmy reported. "He knows the risks, chooses to stay anyway. Genuine courage based on principle rather than strategic positioning."
"Stupid courage," Arthur grumbled. "Getting killed for principle doesn't help anyone."
"It helps everyone if it works," Tommy corrected. "Shows that Shelbys protect rather than control. That working with us doesn't mean abandoning autonomy."
He turned to Jimmy. "How do we protect him?"
Jimmy pulled out his basic security plan—the crude approach stripped of manipulation and elegant complexity. "Guards at his home and office. Monitored routes. Intelligence gathering on IRA movements. Billy Kitchen has offered help through Glasgow connections."
"Billy Kitchen?" Polly's eyebrows raised. "The traitor you saved three years ago?"
"He has Irish community connections that could provide intelligence. But—" Jimmy paused, recognizing the complication. "He'll only help on condition that I work with him as genuine partner. No manipulation, no control, no managing his decisions three moves ahead."
The request was clearly difficult for Jimmy to articulate. Tommy studied him carefully.
"Can you do that? Work with someone you don't control?"
"I don't know," Jimmy admitted. "Everything in my training, my instincts, my methods—it all centers on controlling variables. Billy's offering help I desperately need while demanding I give up the only approach I know."
"Then learn new approach," Tommy said flatly. "Webb's courage requires us to be better than we've been. Can't protect genuine principle through methods that violate principle."
Arthur shifted impatiently. "Why don't we just kill the Irish? Find out who's planning this, eliminate them, problem solved."
"That starts gang war we can't afford," Jimmy said. "IRA has resources, international connections, political support. Killing their members means retaliation that escalates beyond our capacity to manage."
"So what do we do?" John asked.
"We coordinate." Tommy's voice was decisive. "Danny maintains intelligence gathering through his contacts. Billy provides Glasgow intelligence under his stated conditions. Jimmy coordinates protection without trying to control everyone involved.
Arthur and John handle actual security—guards, routes, physical protection."
He looked around the room. "This isn't one person's brilliant plan. This is family working together, trusting each other to do their parts without perfect coordination. Messy, imperfect, but functional."
The meeting continued another hour, mapping logistics and assigning responsibilities. Jimmy participated mechanically, providing strategic input while recognizing that his usual role—designing perfect plan everyone else executed—had been replaced by collaborative approach where he was just one voice among many.
It felt wrong. Inefficient. Full of gaps and uncertainties his previous methods would have eliminated.
It was also the only approach that might work when protecting someone who'd refused to be controlled.
---
Jimmy returned to his office above Morrison's butcher shop near midnight, exhausted from the day's impossible complications. He sat at his desk, pulling out his notebook, trying to design protection strategy for Webb that worked despite uncertainty.
The exercise was frustrating. Every plan he drafted had gaps—variables he couldn't control, outcomes he couldn't guarantee, contingencies that depended on other people making decisions he couldn't predict.
Traditional Approach:
Position Webb in secured location
Control his movements and communications
Eliminate threats before they materialize
Manage all variables to ensure optimal outcome
Required Approach:
Webb stays visible, continuing his work
Respect his autonomy in scheduling and decisions
React to threats rather than preventing them
Accept uncertainty and imperfection
The second approach terrified him. Too many variables beyond his control. Too much dependence on other people's judgment. Too much risk of failure because he couldn't eliminate chaos.
But it was the only approach that respected Webb's genuine courage while providing protection. The only way forward when traditional methods had been rejected.
Jimmy made notes, drafted protocols, tried to design framework that allowed flexibility while maintaining security. The work was unfamiliar and uncomfortable—creating structure that accommodated unpredictability rather than eliminating it.
Hours passed. His tea went cold. The cigarette in his ashtray burned down to ash. Blood seeped through his ceiling as Morrison worked late on some special order.
And Jimmy sat alone with the recognition that he was trying to solve problem his entire skillset had been designed to avoid: genuine human unpredictability.
---
Morning light was filtering through his office windows when Polly arrived, finding Jimmy still at his desk surrounded by papers covered in crossed-out plans and revised protocols.
"You haven't slept," she observed.
"Can't solve the problem." Jimmy gestured to his failed attempts. "Every plan has gaps. Every strategy depends on variables I can't control. I don't know how to protect Webb while respecting his autonomy."
"That's because you're still trying to solve it alone." Polly moved to his window, looking out at Small Heath waking up. "Intelligence reports—who usually provides information about Reform Club activities?"
"Ada. She attends their meetings, knows the organizers, understands progressive movement strategies."
"And now?"
Jimmy understood immediately. "We have no one. Ada's exile created security gap we haven't filled."
"Progressive movements are planning things we don't see coming. Opposition organizing without our knowledge. Intelligence gaps forming because you destroyed relationship with our primary source."
Polly turned back to him. "That's what I meant about perfect systems failing catastrophically. You optimized Ada into perfect intelligence asset through manipulation. Now she's gone, and the system that depended on her can't function."
"I can develop new sources—"
"With what? Trust you've proven you'll violate? Genuine relationships you've forgotten how to build?"
Polly's voice was gentle but devastating. "You broke something that can't be quickly replaced. And now we're paying the price when we need it most."
She moved to the door, pausing. "Get some sleep, boy. You can't solve this through exhaustion and desperation. Sometimes you need to accept that problems don't have elegant solutions."
Polly left. Jimmy sat alone with the papers documenting his inability to protect Webb through methods he'd perfected.
The problem was clear now, brutally visible in ways he couldn't avoid:
To protect Webb, he needed:
People Webb genuinely trusted (but Jimmy had manipulated Webb's entire network)Intelligence about IRA movements (but Ada's exile created gaps in intelligence gathering)Coordination with allies he didn't control (but Jimmy had trained himself to see only controllable variables)Trust-based cooperation (but Jimmy had systematically eliminated trust through manipulation)
Therefore: The problem was unsolvable through traditional methods because Jimmy himself was the obstacle. His brilliant manipulation had created situation requiring solutions he couldn't provide.
His strategic thinking had eliminated human elements now necessary for success.
He was the problem. His perfection was the catastrophe. His optimization was the failure.
Jimmy had spent eighteen months proving intelligence beats violence. He'd achieved everything through strategic manipulation. He'd become exactly what Tommy hired him to be.
And now he faced problem that couldn't be solved through intelligence alone—because the solution required trust, genuine human connection, vulnerability, all the messy elements he'd optimized away in pursuit of perfect outcomes.
For the first time since joining the Shelbys, Jimmy Cartwright didn't know what to do.
And that terrified him more than any threat he'd ever faced.
---
The day continued in uncomfortable blur. Tommy sent him home to sleep—not a suggestion, an order. "Can't have strategist making decisions on no sleep. Get four hours minimum."
Jimmy tried. Lay in his bed above the butcher shop, eyes closed, mind spinning. But sleep wouldn't come. Just the endless loop of impossible problems, unsolvable complications, recognition that he'd built cage of his own brilliance and couldn't find exit.
He returned to the betting shop that afternoon, finding only Polly at her desk.
"Couldn't sleep," he admitted.
"Didn't think you would." She gestured to papers she'd been reviewing. "Been looking at Reform Club activity reports from before Ada's exile. Comparing them to what we know now."
"And?"
"Multiple meetings we didn't know about. Two progressive organizing efforts we only learned about after they'd mobilized. One candidate announcement that caught us completely by surprise."
Polly looked up. "We're operating blind in areas where Ada used to provide sight."
"Tommy knows?"
"Tommy knows. He mentioned it this morning—we need Reform Club intelligence, Ada usually provides that, can you find alternative source?"
Polly's expression was knowing. "You couldn't answer. Because every alternative requires time to develop and trust to establish. Things you can't manufacture when you need them."
Jimmy sank into a chair, the weight of accumulated failures pressing down. "I destroyed her. And in destroying her, I destroyed system that depended on her. Perfect operation failing catastrophically, exactly as you warned."
"Yes." Polly's voice held no satisfaction, just sad recognition. "You're finally seeing it. The cost of treating people like chess pieces. Ada wasn't just intelligence asset—she was person who cared about progressive movements, who had genuine relationships with reformers, who provided information because she trusted you despite family complications."
"And now she's gone. Because I violated that trust so completely she can't look at me."
"Now she's gone," Polly confirmed. "And we can't protect Webb properly because intelligence gaps are forming. Can't anticipate IRA movements because sources have dried up.
Can't coordinate with allies because you've trained yourself to see only controllable variables."
She leaned back in her chair. "This is what catastrophic failure looks like, Jimmy. Not dramatic collapse. Just slow recognition that perfect system you built can't function when single piece breaks. And you broke her."
Jimmy had no response. The assessment was accurate and devastating.
He left the betting shop, walking through Small Heath's afternoon streets without destination or purpose. Just movement to avoid sitting still with recognition of what he'd become.
Children played in streets—more visible now in spring's lengthening daylight. Women shopped at market stalls, gossiping about neighbors and politics. Men returned from factory shifts, tired but heading home to families.
Normal life continuing despite Jimmy's crisis.
He'd spent months seeing all of it as variables to be managed. Demographics and economics and social structures that could be understood, predicted, controlled.
But they were people. Living actual lives independent of his strategic calculations. Making choices he couldn't predict, having experiences he couldn't manage, existing in ways that had nothing to do with his operations.
The recognition felt like death of something essential—the certainty that intelligence could solve any problem, that careful planning could achieve any objective, that strategic thinking was sufficient for all challenges.
Some problems couldn't be solved through cleverness.
Some challenges required trust Jimmy had destroyed.
Some solutions needed genuine human connection he'd optimized away.
And Jimmy stood alone on Small Heath corner at twilight, brilliant strategist facing unsolvable problem, recognizing for the first time that his greatest strength had become his most devastating weakness.
The blood would keep seeping through his ceiling.
The problems would keep multiplying.
But for the first time in eighteen months, Jimmy Cartwright genuinely didn't know what to do.
And the not-knowing terrified him more than any threat he'd ever faced.
Because if intelligence wasn't enough—if strategic thinking couldn't solve everything—then what was he?
Who was he?
What remained when brilliance proved insufficient and perfection revealed itself as catastrophe?
The questions followed him back to his office as darkness fell completely, as Morrison's blade resumed its work below, as Birmingham's evening continued around him.
Questions without answers.
Problems without solutions.
And Jimmy Cartwright, brilliant fixer who'd solved impossible problems for eighteen months, sitting alone with the terrifying recognition:
He'd become the problem he couldn't solve.
The darkness swallowed Small Heath. The blood kept seeping. And Jimmy sat at his desk, papers spread around him documenting failures and impossibilities, genuinely uncertain for the first time since Mary's death had set him on this path.
The work never ended.
But this time, Jimmy didn't know how to do the work.
And that was worse than any crisis he'd ever faced.