The Black Hand Read Online Free PDF Page B

the Tower Hamlets have received complaints of disruptions by Italian stevedores from these docks as far as Clerkenwell.”
    “This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Green declared, as if information that didn’t reach his ear was either unimportant or downright erroneous. In this case, I knew it to be a total fabrication. “Were the men drunken?”
    “No, sir. Organized. I understand it is either some sort of labor dispute or a matter between the various Italians. Had Sir Alan some trouble with them before he died?”
    “He did, and now his problems have fallen into my lap. The Italians are willing to work for a wage that, frankly, the English workers won’t accept, but they have begun to demand a minimum number of working hours per day, which is madness, because we can’t guarantee the work. Ships arrive at their own pace. Some days they come in all day long, and other days the docks are empty for hours. I understand that they don’t like spending the entire day hoping work will pull up to the dock, but that’s the nature of maritime casualwork. If we agreed to pay them for even three hours per day, it could ruin us if the freight doesn’t arrive.”
    “Has there been some problem with the Sicilians?”
    “Bloody dagos,” Green replied, loosening his collar in irritation. “They’re always at each other’s throats. The Sicilians think themselves a cut above the rest. They swagger about like they own the docks and are too concerned about slights upon their honor, as if wharf rats had any. Was it the Sicilians who attacked your barrister’s client?”
    “There was that indication. Were there any reprisals being considered against the Sicilians in particular?”
    “As a matter of fact, there was. Bledsoe was going to ban them from the docks entirely. He said the labor issues began when the Sicilians arrived. He thought them natural-born troublemakers and said as far as he was concerned, we could do without them altogether.”
    “Do you know if he said so in front of them, or if he kept his opinions to himself?”
    “Bledsoe was a very forthright man, Mr. Barker. It was his way to throw it back in their court, so to speak. ‘You shape up and quit causing trouble, or you can work elsewhere,’ he told them.”
    Barker tented his fingers in front of him in thought. “Did he receive any threatening notes? They are generally stamped with a black hand.”
    “I believe he did,” Green said. “He said the Italians were trying to frighten him, but that he ‘wunt be druv,’ as the Sussex folk say.”
    “Might the note still be among his effects?”
    “No. I watched him crumple it up in anger and throw it to the floor. I’m sure it was thrown away days ago.”
    “Was there anything in his death,” Barker asked casually, “that might make you think it was not an accident?”
    Green sat up. “Here now, what’s all this about? You’re the second chap to ask me that. The first was the coroner at the inquest. Is this something to do with Sir Alan’s assurance claim? Do they plan to contest it? His heart failed, and there’s an end to it. What does this have to do with a client getting coshed by a gang of dagos?”
    Barker put up his hands. “I don’t work for an assurance company, sir. I’m merely trying to determine the size of the Italian presence on the docks and in particular the Sicilians among them.”
    Green pulled back his chair and crossed to the open window. The rum-scented wind was pushing in the curtains on either side, and from where he stood he could survey the unloading of the ship. “I wish they were lazy workers, these Sicilians. Then I could sack them; but they are hard workers, even if they give themselves airs. Sometimes I wish we had all good, honest Englishmen on these docks like in the old days, but we can’t afford them anymore. The Poles, the Jews, the Chinese, the dagos—they get the work done faster and at less cost. They bring in profit, and when it comes to it, the