The Hoods (49 page)

Maxie was getting irritated. “Come here.” He opened the door of the adjoining office. The guy stuck his head in and whistled under his breath. “Jesus Christ.” The scene impressed him.

The guy went back to his seat. “I got chased out of my building,” he said, “then I took a walk up and down the street and saw what was going on.” He smiled as he continued: “It's murder on the street. Plenty of heads are broken. All the elevators are shut down. There's no guards and no scabs on the job. The union has practically got the strike licked.”

The guy kept smiling, showing all his teeth. He knew they were clean and white. He took a puff on his cigarette.

“I come from Owny's neighborhood. I know who you guys are.”

“Tenth Avenue?” I said.

“No, Eleventh,” he said.

“So?” I prompted.

“So, I figured the organization took over the strike. The Combination,” the guy concluded with his permanent smile.

“You've been around. You know the score,” Maxie said.

“Yeah, I've bounced around,” the guy replied flippantly.

“If I throw you out the window, you think you'll bounce?” Maxie bantered.

“Nah, that won't be necessary. I can help you.”

“You can help us?” Max said. “How?”

The guy shrugged. “Anything.”

“So how the hell can you help us?” Maxie repeated. “We don't need help. We're doing okay. We're breaking the strike.”

“I don't know,” the guy shrugged. “If I can help you, I'd like to.

Cockeye came in.

“How about a little food? Aren't we eating today?” he asked.

Suddenly we realized we were all hungry.

“You want me to get you fellows some sandwiches from Lindys or something?” the guy volunteered.

“You're not going any place,” Max said.

“Okay by me.” He made himself comfortable.

“I got a yen for some kreplach,” Patsy said.

“Okay we'll have some kreplach. Cockeye, run downtown to Rappaport's and tell him to give you a potful—cheese and potatoes, both kinds.” Maxie handed Cockeye a sawbuck.

I went out to the waiting room, sat down at the desk. After awhile I began feeling annoyed at the sleeping men opposite me. I took one of them by the feet and dragged him into the other room.

“You want these bastards out of the waiting room?” the guy from Eleventh Avenue asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “these bastards annoy me.”

“I'll do it,” the guy said eagerly.

“Okay, mother's little helpmate.”

I watched and admired the ease with which he carried all the drugged men into the outer office. Then the guy found a broom and started sweeping up.

He finished the job and carried the broom into the inner office. It seemed to me he was in there a longer time then necessary. I tiptoed over and quickly opened the door and walked in. There he was, down on his knees, going through their pockets.

He turned around, smiled at me and continued rolling them. My presence didn't feaze him a bit. I stood there smoking a cigar, watching. He finished, brushed his pants and counted the money.

“How'd cha do?” I asked.

“A hundred and ten dollars and forty cents,” he said. He counted fifty-five dollars and twenty cents and offered it to me.

I said, “There's three more guys out there. How about we split with them?”

He smiled. “What for, pal? This is between you and me. They don't have to know about this,” he said.

“If I didn't catch you rolling these guys, you'd keep it all yourself?”

He smiled. “Sure, wouldn't you?”

I shook my head.

I chuckled, “Okay, keep it all for yourself.”

“You don't want any of it for yourself?”

“Nah, keep it,” I repeated.

He actually said, “Gee, tanks, pal.”

“These guys,” I motioned with my foot, “are friends of yours, aren't they?”

“Nah, I just work with them.”

“This what you guys do all the time, strikebreaking?”

“Most of the time, strikes. Once in awhile a divorce frameup job.”

“Anything for an honest buck,” I said. “Yeah,” he laughed, “in this racket these bastards,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the unconscious figures, “would frame their own grandmothers.”

“All these agencies work the same way?”

“Yeah, they're all full of crap. I worked for a lot of them. They take any kind of jobs from stealin' to murder. We do a lot of spying for the big companies, too.”

“What kind of spying, for thieves among the employees?”

The guy laughed. “Once in awhile. That kind of spying we like. Then we make a buck when we catch the guy. We clip him for all he stole.”

“Then you turn him in?” I asked.

“These bastards do, yeah. They ain't got a heart. But not me. I just shake the guy down and chase him. We do a lot of labor spying.”

Cockeye came back from Rappaport's with a large pot of kreplach.

Patsy said, “What—no forks?”

“No forks,” Cockeye replied.

Maxie stuck his hand in the pot and said, “The hell with forks.”

“Forks to you,” Cockeye said sticking his hand in.

“This forkin' gag is getting forkin' silly,” I said.

“Okay, okay, let's quit forking around,” Maxie said.

We all laughed with our mouths full of kreplach.

The phone rang. Maxie picked it up. It was Crowning again.

Maxie said, “I'm Thespus' secretary. What can I do for you?”

We could hear Crowning at the other end shouting, “Lousy crooks! I paid you in advance. Where's all them goddamn men?”

Maxie said, “Mr. Thespus wants five grand more, or he won't send any men out.”

We heard him shout on the other end, “I'm coming up, but that'll be the last piece of business you ever get from me, you lousy crook.”

He hung up.

We finished the pot of kreplach.

Maxie called Eddie on the phone. “How's it going, Ed?”

“Okay, everything is copacetic,” Ed said.

“Much action on the street?”

“There was a little in the morning. Now it's quiet. Most of the scabs quit when they saw heads being broken and they didn't have protection.”

The room was quiet; we could distinctly hear Eddie talking.

“Any of your boys get picked up, Ed?” Max said.

“Three out of three hundred. Ain't bad, eh, Max? I got them out on bail.”

“What's the charge?”

“Simple assault.”

“Did you call the club?”

“Yeah, I called the club. They said call the judge and he'd have it thrown out of court. Otherwise, anything else I can do, Max?”

“No, Ed. Everything's under control. So long.”

Max hung up, a satisfied smile on his face.

I said, “They've got to sign now. The tenants will raise hell with the owners. They can't conduct business for a minute without elevator service.”

“Yep,” Maxie said, “it won't be long now.”

We heard a noise in the adjoining office. I went in to investigate. One big guy was staggering around, tripping over everybody's feet.

He looked at me bleary-eyed.

He said, “Where am I? I got to take a leak.”

He went into the toilet. He came out. He looked at us. We looked at him. He was sullen.

“You want a drink, pal?” I asked.

“Water,” he said.

He went back into the toilet. I watched as he drank directly from the faucet and washed his face. He came out. He looked at us in a dopey sort of way. He started walking to the door.

Max said, “You can't leave; class ain't dismissed yet.”

He kept right on walking. Patsy clipped him a shot flush on the chin. The guy reeled around the room.

“Better take a drink, pal,” I said.

“I don't want a drink,” he grumbled.

“Go ahead, you stupid bastard, take a drink or you'll get your teeth kicked in,” I said.

I poured him a drink. He drank it down. I led him back into the inner office. He sat down on the floor. I watched him fall asleep.

Patsy went back to examine the files. They were very revealing. Every once in awhile he came over and showed us an interesting piece of correspondence. There were dossiers on hundreds of people, some of them quite prominent people. For what purpose I could not understand unless it was for blackmail. They contained such detailed information that Max and I discussed his methods and marveled. This agency had specific knowledge and actual pictures of a number of wealthy and prominent men and women in acts of perversion.

I called the union and asked for Jimmy. The girl said he was out. I asked for Fitz. She said they were both called to a conference by an impartial chairman appointed by City Hall. I told her in case either of them called to phone me right away. I gave her the agency telephone number.

There was a lull for quite awhile. Nobody came in, and no calls came over the wire. Cockeye was out front playing his harmonica. Patsy was examining the files again. Max and I were listening to the slim guy from the West Side. He told us his name was Kelly. He was telling us about some of the work he did for the Thespus agency on one of their railroad accounts.

The phone rang. I picked up the receiver. It was Fitz at City Hall. He was calling from a booth in the lobby. He said the employer group wasn't too militant, but the impartial chairman was acting partial to the bosses. Otherwise things seemed on their way.

I told Fitz, “Don't worry, things will certainly be on their way. These owners are getting terrific pressure from their tenants. No matter how they twist and turn to try and get men to operate their elevators, they'll fail. We can trump any card they play. We'll shove the contract down their throats. And as far as the impartial or partial chairman, as you call him, is concerned, we'll clip that bastard's wings.”

Fitz said, “The bastard acts as if he's on the payroll of the employer group.”

“Okay,” I said, “I'll straighten him right out. You'll see a change in his attitude pretty quick, or you may have a different chairman altogether. Keep me posted at this number. Another thing, Fitz, don't budge an inch. Don't compromise; we got the thing licked.”

Fitz said, “Okay, fine, that's fine.”

We both hung up.

I called the main office. I told them to contact City Hall, and make that impartial chairman partial to our interests. They laughed and said it would be taken care of right away.

I called Eddie at his hotel. I asked him, “How's things going at your end?”

He answered, “Everything's all right. My zulus are coming back in groups. They say everything on the street is clean. No strikebreakers to bang around.”

“Keep them out on the street, Ed,” I said. “It's possible the owners may contact a new strikebreaking agency. And if so, we want to know immediately.”

“Okay,” Eddie said. “I see what you mean. I'll gander around myself. I'll keep you posted.”

I didn't have a chance to answer. I heard the front door being kicked open and then slammed shut with a terrific bang. I still had the phone in my hand.

Eddie at the other end was saying, “Hello, Noodles. Hello, you still there?” Outside I heard a voice shouting, “Thespus, where the hell's Thespus?”

I spoke hurriedly into the phone. “Okay, Ed. Anything else? I got to hang up. There's something popping here.”

“Nothing important,” he answered.

“Okay, Ed,” I said.

“Okay, Noodles,” he said.

We both hung up. The shouting continued in the outer office. Max was sitting with, his feet on the desk, calmly smoking his cigar.

“It sounds like Crowning outside,” he said, smiling.

“Yeh,” I said.

“Hey, Cockeye,” Maxie shouted, “let the pot-bellied bastard come in.”

Like a bull, a colossal infuriated bull, Crowning charged in, bellowing, “Thespus! Where's Thespus?”

He stopped and puffed in amazement when he saw Max and me sitting nonchalantly with our feet up on the desk.

His face was as red as a red face could ever get before popping a blood vessel. His eyes through his thick glasses shot his hate at us as he recognized us.

“What are you doing here? Where's Thespus?” he demanded.

Pat and Cockeye were right behind him. Cockeye held his .45 by the muzzle and was signaling to know whether to smack Crowning over the head with the butt end.

I couldn't help laughing at Cockeye. He was so mad and excited that his eyes were way out of focus. I couldn't tell if he was looking at Max or me for the okay signal to hit Crowning.

I said, “No good, Cockeye, at least not yet.”

“Sit down, Crowning,” I motioned to a chair. “Let's have a friendly chat.”

He didn't. He stood glaring and puffing. He looked around the room.

“Where the hell is Thespus?” he blustered.