The Fighting O'Keegans Page 7

  ‘What’s in it for us?’

  ‘Well, today’s you’re lucky day, despite the stitches you’re going to need, we’re recruiting and you boys would be top of my list.’

  One of the other men spoke up, his pinched face and pointed nose giving him a furtive look that only came about on the streets trying to pull each dollar together. He was greedy rather than lazy, his eyes never stopped moving as he considered every angle.

  ‘What do we have to do? What’s the pay?’

  ‘Like I said, today’s you’re luck day. Just keep doing what you have been doing but in a more organized and focused way and you could be in for a lot of cash. Roughing up the odd passer-by or drunk got you so far? You guys rich yet?’ He was rewarded with shaking heads from each of them,

  ‘…Didn’t think so. Come along and talk to our man O’Keegan, .If you’re not interested after you’ve met him then walk away, we’re not the fucking army, if you don’t like it, don’t join. The dock, near immigration, this afternoon. If you’re not there I’ll know you had something better to do, but I’ve done what you’re doing now…I doubt there is anything better. Once in a lifetime chance guys. Don’t be late.’

  Flannery stuck out his hands giving each man his best smile while he shook each sweat filled hand. The past moments and threats forgotten underneath an outward show of friendship. Nodding to Alteri, Flannery began to walk away, not looking back as they walked to find his Cousin’s meat shop. Leaving behind him three confused guys who had gone from hunter to hunted to employed within an hour.

  As Flannery walked away he allowed himself to feel good, he might have add a few more people to the team, people who know their way around Boston, a big hole in their knowledge so far. These were people who were born and bred in this city, they had more information in their heads than O’Keegan and Flannery could hope to learn in a decade. These guys could be critical for what he and O’Keegan had in mind.

  Chapter 19

  Denny Meehan sat in his warehouse office, his good but dusty shoes perched on his ramshackled desk, his soles facing towards the doorway, a sporting newspaper held before him.

  The desk was more for show than anything else, no one ever saw him write anything and they weren’t likely too, writing wasn’t something Meehan did too often, his business didn’t require it.

  The long windows that separate him and his office from the warehouse floor were clouded with grime, dust and soot giving him an opaque appearance to anyone standing outside.

  Just as Meehan wanted it.

  A timid knocked came on the pane of glass of the office door before Meehan yelled in an unmistakable Irish accent,

  ‘Com’on in for Christ sake…’

  Meehan’s younger brother Tony came in and stood before the desk. It’s true that they were siblings but they were near opposites.

  Denny had the physique of an athlete or middleweight boxer and had spent a few years as an amateur before losing his violent temper one too many times, putting his challenger in the morgue.

  But luck was with Meehan and the fact that it all happened within the ring meant he didn’t face time for that death, just losing any chance of ever making it in the ring.

  In contrast, Tony Meehan was quiet, slender and kept his thoughts and emotions to himself, mostly because he had been pushed around by his older brother for as long as he had a memory. Through the years Tony had been beaten by his Brother at just about everything and had given up any thoughts of not being an extension of Denny’s wishes.

  Although he didn’t show it, Denny relied upon his brother and considered that he was the one truly loyal worker that he had on the payroll.

  Tony also had another gift, each of Denny’s men confided in Tony when they were worried or thought something was out of line with Denny’s plans and Tony always brought the important gripes to Denny.

  Tony was a safety valve which meant Denny kept up with what his men really thought and although he relied upon fear and force to keep his position, he wasn’t stupid knowing he needed his men’s confidence and support to survive.

  It was easy to pull a trigger, especially for the people that Denny had working for him, that was what he really paid them for and without Tony keeping up with the grumblings, Denny would likely have found himself wearing a few pieces of lead, on the inside.

  ‘Yeah, what do you want?’ Denny said knowing it was Tony without looking up from his paper.

  ‘There’s one of the collector’s from that last steam ship that just came in outside. Says he would like a quick word.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘He didn’t say…’ Now Denny looked up, his firm eyes locking on Tony from under his dark fringe.

  ‘Well did you fucking ask him?’ Tony shrugged, palms held up to show he hadn’t.

  Denny shook his head, ‘Oh forget it, I have to do everything around here. Tell him to come on in but if he’s wasting my time I’ll kick his and your ass around the docks.’

  ‘OK Denny OK. Keep you’re hair on…’ Tony turned to leave.

  ‘Tony, one more thing. Next time find out what the hell they want, try to act like you’re my brother at least....’

  Denny didn’t move from his favourite position, feet firmly planted at the edge of the desk but he made sure that his brown jacket was pulled slightly back to give a small glimpse of his favourite gun. A .32-caliber five-shot double-action nickel-plated break-open revolver manufactured by Empire State Arms Company and dead accurate up to forty feet, people had died proving it. All, as far as Denny was concerned, that was all that could be asked for in a gun. It didn’t pay to have anyone think he was a pushover and it also didn’t pay not to hit who you were aiming at.

  The ship’s boiler room supervisor was pushed through the door, scuttling forward, Tony walking though after him, the Supervisor did his best not to stumbled from the shove, using his hand to stop himself on Meehan’s desk. He held onto his blue and gold braided tightly, in front of his substantial stomach as if to give himself some protection.

  The supervisor’s few handfuls of hair were swept from left to right across his head by his licked hand as he straightened himself up, waiting for Meehan to notice him. Meehan looked over a sheet of paper he made a show of reading, he Supervisor was scared, it was obvious to Denny as he watched his hand turning the hat repeatedly, fear was a good sign, Meehan took some pleasure in it.

  The Supervisor stood directly in front of the desk, waiting for a sign to talk while Denny meticulously scanned him up and down. Although the Supervisor didn’t look like a killer, you just never knew for sure,

  ‘Did you check him for weapons?’ He looked over at Tony.

  ‘Of course Denny…I ain’t stupid.’

  ‘You ain’t? Well that clears that one up then…I’ll let the folks back home know’

  He ignored his Brothers angry face as he turned back to the Supervisor.

  ‘Well?’ Denny said, expecting a quick answer from the Supervisor.

  ‘Well what?’ Tony asked

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you, you dumb ass. Jesus Christ. You…’ He pointed straight at the Supervisor, ‘what do you want, I haven’t got all day…you have something to tell me?’

  ‘Mr. Meehan Sir, thank you for seeing me. I have some information that I thought you should know and didn’t want to just talk to one of your guys…thought I would bring it straight to you.’

  ‘What’s wrong with my guys? Why don’t you want to talk to them?’

  The Supervisor’s hat began to rotate faster as his nervous fingers moved round around the braid,

  ‘Nothing Sir…it’s just…well, I thought this was something you would know how to handle best.’

  ‘I know how to handle it all best…that’s what I do, but anyway, get to the point, is someone muscling in on the waterfront? People know you work for me…who had the balls to cut you?’

  ‘No Mr. Meehan. At least I don’t think so. Not yet anyway’.

  ‘Well, what is it? ‘No’
or ‘Not yet’?’

  ‘I think it’s ‘No’ Mr. Meehan. Sir.’

  ‘Jesus, why am I surrounded by idiots? Look, let’s take this real slow. One more time. ‘ Slamming his hand flat on the desk in his frustration, the Supervisor jumping. ‘What have you come to see me for?’

  ‘…Sorry Mr. Meehan, just like all the other times, we brought some men over on the ship. They worked their ticket across by working in the boiler room.’

  ‘So what, what’s that to me? You collected my taxes and the other stuff I wanted has cleared…customs…right?’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Meehan, it’s all done…here’s you’re money…’ He placed a wad of dirty bills in the middle of the desk beside Meehan’s feet. Meehan looked them, figuring out how much was laying on his desk. Satisfied, he looked back up at the Supervisor.

  ‘OK. So what’s the problem? Another group of poor suckers who will be running around trying to scratch a living…just like everyone else. Just another boat load to add to all the other crap that comes into this country every day. Now tell me why I should care?’

  ‘It’s just that, Mr. Meehan. They’re a group.’

  ‘That’s what I said, I’m still not getting why you’re bothering me.’

  At that Meehan began to uncross his legs making a show of bringing them to the floor. He began to stand, stretching himself, his arms pointing to the corners of the room. Nothing so natural had ever scared the Supervisor more than seeing Meehan an arm grasp away and limbering up, the gun obvious and swinging slightly against Meehan’s side. He stammered, nervously wiping his hand back across his balding head, his hair sweeping from one side to the other.

  ‘Sorry Mr. Meehan…these guys are working together, they’re a team…a gang. Just like yours…’ His voice trailed off, unsure what more to say.

  ‘Like mine? How many men in the boiler room?’

  Eighteen or nineteen…something like that.’

  ‘Then it’s nothing like mine…what else?’

  ‘Else? Only that I don’t know what the hell happened…I haven’t seen this before and I’ve been on a lot of these journeys. They didn’t arrive all out for themselves, normally they would be standing on each others throats to get out of the boiler room, stampeding to the closest bar, at each other’s throats.’

  ‘It’s that bad?’

  ‘Worse…All the other ships before had guys just like this…they couldn’t wait to take their twenty bucks to the nearest gin joints looking to get unconscious as fast as possible. These guys weren’t like that. Somewhere along the line something brought them together as a gang.’

  ‘Something or someone? Who’s the boss?’

  ‘Two guys telling them what to do, and before you can spit, they’re doing what they’re told. No back chat, no questions. I haven’t seen this before Mr. Meehan, they’d sweated for their money one piece of coal at a time, but these guys handed over every dime they’d earnt to their leader, then walked off the ship together, almost frigging holding hands.’

  ‘Well good for them. At least someone out there has some sense’, Meehan glanced at Tony grinding home an old insult just for the hell of it, yet he sensed there was still more to the story. He looked back at the Supervisor.

  ‘You still haven’t told me who cut you?’

  ‘…one of the leaders. Flannery. He cut me when I went to give them their money…after I took out their ‘tax’ of course’

  ‘Flannery?… You didn’t tell me these guys were Irish…’

  ‘Yes Mr. Meehan, most of the people we get doing this job are Irish.’

  ‘And this Irish cut you, you say? Did you tell him you were collecting for me?’ His voice slow and deliberate.

  ‘Yes, Mr. Meehan, he didn’t seem to care. He cut me and told me he’d do a lot more if I couldn’t organize a meet with you…and…I believe him. These boiler room guys have nothing to lose, if they had anything worth a dime they would have sold it and drunk it already. Most of the people who work their way across just have the clothes their standing in, they’re as low as you get Mr Meehan.’

  Meehan picked up a pencil, his teeth biting on it while he thought it all through. Making a decision, he looked back to the Supervisor.

  ‘So they want to meet me, do they? Well I’d like to accommodate them. Perhaps they can do some work for me, I’m always on the lookout for some more stupid Irish to jump when I tell them too. What about the other guy? You said there were two leaders?’

  ‘The other guy…O’Keegan. He’s the quiet one, the brains of the two I think. Flannery used his muscle to push the others around at the beginning, we left him to it, he helped get the job done…but the next thing I knew something happened to make O’Keegan the real boss.’

  ‘Did O’Keegan have much to say?’

  The Supervisor thought about the deal O’Keegan had offered him, Meehan would want to know O’Keegan wanted him to recruit men from the shipments of boiler room workers. But as the Supervisor stood there he thought back to O’Keegan, and the way the other guys acted towards him, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

  The image of O’Keegan smiling down at the photo of the Supervisors family appeared, underscoring the Supervisor’s decision to keep his lips locked. Maybe it was the photo O’Keegan had taken but he wasn’t about to choose sides, not yet anyway.

  Standing in silence, being this close to Meehan he knew he was afraid, but there was something about even the thought of O’Keegan which made him wonder if Meehan would be up to winning this one. It was true that Meehan was the boss, the Supervisor had seen a whole bunch of men who would do his killing for him as he walked into the warehouse and the Supervisor knew Meehan had many businesses all tied up and paying tribute. But standing here, even within Meehan’s arms reach, O’Keegan still worried him more than Meehan he just couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. After all, all he was here for was to organise a meeting, he would let Meehan and O’Keegan fight about the specifics and, it was just possible, he could make some good money if he could push a few guys quietly towards O’Keegan from the next few ship loads.

  The Supervisor brought his hand to his mouth, coughing as he tried to cover his hesitation.

  ‘No, Mr Meehan, that’s all there is…that’s all that was said, they just want a meet.’

  Meehan held the Supervisor’s gaze for a moment, ‘So there’s nothing else huh?’ Meehan knew the Supervisor was holding something back but what could these guys do anyhow, they were almost too small to notice.

  ‘I ain’t got time to see these guys…they’re not worth my time. Tell me what O’Keegan looks like…where are they now?’

  ‘O’Keegan?’

  ‘Jesus, I’m going to lose my patience, O’Keegan’.

  ‘Er…he medium height, sort of stocky…he’s got a lot of red hair…and a cut…he’s got a cut above his eye’. The Supervisor stopped, pleased with himself that he remembered such details.

  ‘And’

  ‘And?’

  ‘…and where do you think he can be found?’ Meehan growled.

  ‘Don’t know exactly…but fifteen minutes ago I saw him outside immigration’.

  ‘Right’.

  Without waiting, Meehan span the Supervisor around, Tony opened Denny’s office pre-empting his brother’s moves. Pushing the Supervisor through the door, Meehan followed him through making a show of kicking the Supervisor’s ass as he stumbled forward.

  The few handfuls of men in the warehouse looked up as the Supervisor almost fell into the main body of the warehouse, all arms and legs in motion on his way to the doorway out. Meehan’s men chuckled amongst themselves as the Supervisor staggered, Meehan’s foot pushing him forward from the waist. Momentum sent the Supervisor towards the doorway, running him out of the warehouse, his cap spinning across the floor as he almost fell out into the street.

  Meehan yelled behind him,

  ‘Take a good look at his fat face boys, I might need you to plant him if he doesn’t do what I tell him. Keep it in your min
ds boys…’

  Meehan focused again on the Supervisor, his face turning a shade of purple,

  ‘…Now get the FUCK out of my sight…’

  The Supervisor did just that, trying hard to become invisible by getting as far from Meehan as he could, his hat left and lost in his haste.

  Chapter 20

  ‘….get the FUCK out of my sight’

  Shorty looked up from the sidewalk, the next instant his patience was rewarded as the Supervisor popped out of the small warehouse door as if propelled by a slingshot, his cap falling and spinning to the floor as he spilled out onto the street.

  Shorty’s eyes were drawn to the hat, watching roll and come to a stop, it lay there as the Supervisor, choosing between bodily versus wardrobe salvation, decided to save his skin.

  Shorty watched as, weighing up vanity versus salvation, the Supervisor made his choice, leaving the hat behind as his short plump legs started to move faster than Shorty would have credited possible, pumping along in time to his rocking arms as he moved everything he could to get as far away from Meehan and the warehouse as he could.

  He laughed to himself, now there was a man that wanted to be back at work as soon as possible, driving himself towards the safety of his steamship where a man with braid had rules and regulations to protect him even if he no longer had the braid.

  Shorty watched him go, giving him a few decent seconds, making sure he had a good head start. Sucking the breath between his teeth, he set off, concentrating on the retreating back of the Supervisor after making sure the warehouse door was firmly closed, none of Meehan’s boys visible. Shorty smiled, happy he could give O’Keegan a full run down when he got back to the lads.

  Shorty’s back turned the corner in careful watching pursuit of his game, ignorant to the sound as Meehan’s wooden warehouse door cracked open, one of Meehan’s men leaving, moving fast and with purpose.

  Chapter 21