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Memories of Another Day

Page 41

by Harold Robbins


  Lansky looked at him. “I don’t mind if you smoke.” He waited until Daniel had lighted his cigar. “Then I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in floating five million dollars a year through your pension funds even if you were to get a five-percent commission on it for yourself personally?”

  “You’re talking about the money out there?” Daniel jerked his head at the door behind him.

  “Yes.”

  “You supposed right, Mr. Lansky.”

  Lansky was silent for a moment. “But you wouldn’t object to working with any union even if the AFL-CIO were to expel them for corruption?”

  “You’re talking about the Teamsters, the Bakery Workers, the Laundry Workers specifically?”

  “About them. And the Building and Maintenance Workers and the ILA, as well as others. I’m talking about two and a half million more union members who might within the next few years be looking for a new home.”

  “Only on the same conditions that I’m working now. I have no intention of starting another labor organization to counter the AFL-CIO As I said before, my purpose is to gain more benefits for the working people by working with their elected officials, not controlling them.”

  Lansky smiled. “Remember the story, ‘The Devil and Daniel Webster’? Are you sure your name isn’t Daniel Webster Huggins?”

  Daniel laughed. “No. It’s Daniel Boone.”

  “And I am not the Devil,” Lansky said softly. “You don’t have to plead with me for the soul of labor.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Lansky,” Daniel said. “I was beginning to feel concerned.”

  “You’ve been making enemies, Big Dan,” Lansky said. “Some of the people you’ve been helping the most are beginning to resent the appeal you’re gaining among their own unions.”

  “I’ve been making enemies all my life, Mr. Lansky,” Daniel said. “I’ve learned to live with it.”

  “So have I, Big Dan,” Lansky said softly. “And I would like to suggest that you take some of the same precautions that I do to stay alive.”

  Daniel was silent. This was the point of the meeting. After a moment, he got to his feet. Some whisperings had already reached him, which was why he had taken to wearing the gun again. In a strange way, he was glad that the threat was not coming from the little man in front of him. He felt a strange kinship with him. They were both outcasts of a sort. “Thank you, Mr. Lansky,” he said. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Lansky smiled and pressed a button on the desk. The men came back into the room. The meeting was over.

  Chapter 8

  “Two hundred thousand dollars a week, and that’s only the beginning,” Hoffa said. “An’ Dave Beck ain’t gonna get his sticky fingers on it.”

  Daniel sat watching him. He didn’t speak.

  “I want Central States to set up their own pension fund, and you’re gonna help me,” Hoffa continued. “That’s why I called you guys down here.”

  Daniel glanced at Moses and Jack Haney, who had come with him, then across the room at Hoffa’s two associates, Bobby Holmes and Harold Gibbons. “Exactly what is it you expect of us?” he asked.

  “I want you to set up a foolproof system so that we can administer our own fund for the benefit of our own members.”

  “Who’s going to run the fund?” Daniel asked.

  Hoffa was surprised. “I am. Who else do you think I’d trust with all that money?”

  Daniel kept a straight face. “You may run into problems. There could be a conflict of interest. Personal and union.”

  “No problem,” Hoffa said. “What’s good for me is good for the union.”

  “I’m not arguing that,” Daniel said. “But it might be hard to convince others.”

  “That’s your job,” Hoffa said. “Now, how do we do it?”

  “You want an answer right now?”

  “Damn right I do,” Hoffa snapped. “We been collectin’ this money for almost a year now, and there’s over ten million dollars layin’ there in the bank doin’ nothin’.”

  Daniel smiled. “The money beginning to burn a hole in your pocket, Jimmy?”

  For the first time, Jimmy laughed. “You better believe it. We got some propositions in front of us that can make a lot of money.”

  “What kind of propositions?”

  “A couple of old friends of mine from Detroit are very big in Vegas. They can use some buildin’ capital. They pay big premiums for money because the banks are very sticky with ’em.”

  Daniel nodded, remembering his conversation with Lansky last month. It made sense. The little man’s connections went far and wide. “Sounds reasonable. But you’re going to have to diversify your investment portfolio. You can’t just go into things like that. How’s the insurance package working out?”

  “It’s okay,” Jimmy said. “They gave my friend the exclusive agency, so everything’s in order.”

  “Glad to hear that,” Daniel said. “Supposing you give us all the information you have available, and we’ll get back to you with a workable plan within the week.”

  “No later?” Hoffa said.

  “No later.”

  Hoffa turned to Gibbons. “Turn the papers over to him.”

  “Copies be okay?” Gibbons asked, looking at Daniel. “I don’t like losing originals.”

  Gibbons left the room. Hoffa leaned across his desk. “Can we talk privately for a minute?”

  Daniel nodded. At a gesture, the other man left the room. He waited until the door closed behind them. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Dave Beck,” Hoffa said. “It don’t look good.”

  “True,” Daniel said.

  “How long do you think it will take ’em to put him away?”

  “With all the appeals open to him, another year, fifteen months maybe.”

  Hoffa picked up a pencil and worried it for a moment. “There’s talk that he might sing to get a lighter sentence.”

  “I don’t think he will,” Daniel said. “All they have him on is a lousy income-tax rap. Nothing there to keep him forever. He’s too smart to blow the whistle, because he knows that will blow his pension and agreements under his Teamster employment contract.”

  “Then I should be ready to make my move for the fall ’57 convention?”

  “Yes.”

  “Think I can make it?”

  “You can make it. There’s nobody else,” Daniel said. “But you might as well know this, if you don’t already. You’re the next target. They’re going to come after you like gangbusters.”

  “Fuck ’em,” Hoffa said. “They’re not going to get anything on me.”

  “That’s what Dave Beck thought. They found a way.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I pay my taxes.”

  “There’s a great deal of heat on the Teamsters. A political attack on the union can exploit the public’s fear of the power the union has over our economy. Sooner or later, some politician’s going to jump on it. There’ve been too many statements made by Teamster officials that they can close the whole country down with one strike.”

  “We can,” Hoffa said.

  “You do and that’s the end of the union,” Daniel said. “The government steps in and takes over.”

  “I know that,” Hoffa said. He put down the pencil. “Where do you think Meany stands on all this?”

  “The Teamsters are out as far as the AFL-CIO is concerned. They’re jumping on the corruption bandwagon that came up in the course of Dave Beck’s examinations and trials.”

  “But the government hasn’t proved a case.”

  “For Meany they don’t have to. All he needs is an excuse and you’re out.”

  “He’s afraid that we’ll move in and take over,” Hoffa said.

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m not interested. Maybe you can tell him that.”

  “I will. But there’s no reason for him to believe me. He doesn’t like me any more than he does you.” Daniel looked at him. “The big difference between us is—he can
’t do anything to me. CALL is not a union; we’re a union service and consultation group, available to any union that wants to employ our services. And even then, we do not make policy, we only recommend. The individual unions have to decide for themselves what course they want to follow. And they’re free to discharge us at any time for any reason.”

  “I’ve heard that he’s told a number of unions that if they employed CALL he would regard that as a violation of AFL-CIO confidences and information.”

  “I’ve heard that too,” Daniel said. “But I have no proof. Besides, that’s not my problem.”

  “I guess not.” Hoffa smiled. “From what I hear, you’ve been signing up quite a few unions around the country.”

  Daniel nodded. “Maybe they’re beginning to find out that we’re doing the job we promised.”

  “If you should decide to form another national labor organization, you could count on the Teamsters.”

  “Thank you,” Daniel said. “But there isn’t room enough for two separate labor organizations. The AFL and CIO recognized that and merged. I’m satisfied the way things are.”

  Hoffa laughed. “Big Dan, you’re either the smartest man in the labor movement—or the dumbest.”

  Daniel joined in his laugh. “Ever think I might be both?”

  Later, in the car on the way to the airport, Moses leaned toward Daniel, speaking in a low voice. “You know, Hoffa lied to us.”

  “About what?”

  “He said they had about ten million lying around. It’s more like fifty million. He forgot to mention some of the other major locals he controls.”

  “I figured that,” Daniel said.

  Moses’ voice was hushed, almost in awe. “In three years, they’ll have over a billion dollars to play with.”

  “So?”

  “That makes the UMW kitty seem like the corner grocery store. Lewis can’t hold a candle to that.”

  “The money they have is none of our concern,” Daniel said.

  “It has to be,” Moses said. “They’re asking us to tell them what to do with it.”

  “No, they’re not,” Daniel said. “They’re asking us to recommend procedures on the investment and protection of that money for the benefit of their members.”

  “What they’re really looking for is for you to give them a license to steal.”

  “They won’t get that from me. They’ll get exactly what they asked for.”

  “You won’t be able to stay out of it,” Moses said. “If they get into trouble, they’ll come to you to defend their actions.”

  “I can’t worry about that at this time,” Daniel said.

  “We’d better start thinking about it all the same,” Moses said gloomily.

  “Okay,” Daniel said. “What do you think is the first thing we ought to do?”

  “Central States is paying us ten cents a member. If we take on this pension-fund assignment, I think they ought to pay us another ten cents.”

  “I don’t see how that will help us solve their problem.”

  “We’re going to have to add to our staff. That’s going to cost money. Somebody’s going to have to pay for it.”

  Daniel looked at him. “And you think they ought to?”

  Moses nodded. “It seems only fair to me. They can afford it. We can’t.”

  Daniel thought for a moment. “I don’t object to it. Include it as part of the proposal we make them.”

  “And if they don’t agree?”

  “We do the job anyway. Whether I like it or not, I made a deal with Jimmy Hoffa, and I don’t intend to go back on my word.”

  Chapter 9

  The sound of the automobile horn came through the open window. Daniel looked up from the morning paper. “The car’s here already.”

  “I heard it,” Margaret said.

  He gulped at his coffee. “I’ve got to run.”

  “Will you be home for dinner tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “We’re up to our ass in work. I never should have taken on the additional work for the Teamsters. We wound up processing and checking out all the loan requests, and there’s a lot of them which we have to forward with our recommendations for their executive-committee meeting the day after tomorrow.”

  “You’ve only been home for dinner two nights out of the last ten days,” she said.

  He looked at her. “It can’t be helped. I have responsibilities.”

  “You have a responsibility to me too,” she said.

  He got to his feet. “I know that. But you knew the work I do before we were married.”

  “You weren’t as busy then. You had more time for yourself. And me.”

  “We were also on the verge of bankruptcy.”

  “And the money makes it better?”

  “At least we can pay our bills,” he said. “And the new house we’re getting up in Scarsdale, New York, isn’t exactly poor man’s lifestyle.”

  “I’m happy here,” she said. “Why do we have to move up to New York?”

  “I’ve explained that to you already,” he said patiently. “More and more we’re getting into the fund-management business. New York is where the money is. That’s why we’re moving our offices down near Wall Street.”

  She was silent as he put on his jacket.

  “Relax,” he said. “It will be okay. The last month is always the worst. After the baby comes, you’ll feel better.”

  She shook her head. “I look so ugly.”

  He walked around the table and kissed her. “You’re beautiful.”

  “I’ll never get my figure back.”

  He laughed. “You will. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to meet some girl and she’ll take you away from me.” She looked up at him.

  “No chance.”

  “It’s been more than a month,” she said. “And I know you. I see the way you are when you wake up each morning.”

  “A piss and a cold shower takes care of that,” he said, laughing.

  “How many cold showers do you have to take during the day?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’s not that bad.”

  “I can’t even take you in my mouth anymore,” she said. “I get nauseous all the time.”

  “You’re being silly,” he said.

  The tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I’m scared. I’m going to lose you. I know it.”

  He lifted her to her feet and kissed her, taking care not to press against her belly. “You won’t lose me.” The auto horn sounded through the windows again. “I’m late. I’ve got to run.”

  She followed him to the door. “What about dinner?”

  “I’ll try to make it,” he said. “I’ll call you later in the afternoon.”

  She stood in the doorway and watched him walk down the path to the car. The driver got out and opened the door for him. He got into the back seat. She waited there until the car had turned the corner at the end of the street, then went back into the house.

  Mamie was just coming from the kitchen, her shopping bag in hand. “I was jes goin’ to the store. Anything I can get for you, Miz Huggins?”

  “No,” Margaret said. “I’m all right. I’m just going up to bed and lie down for a while.”

  ***

  They hadn’t driven for more than a few blocks when George, the driver, glanced back at Daniel. “There’s a car following us, Mr. Huggins.”

  “Sure?” Daniel asked.

  George glanced in the rearview mirror. “Positive. The blue Dodge. There are two men in the front seat. They picked me up when I came out of the garage this morning.”

  Daniel looked out the rear window. Traffic was heavy behind them, and he didn’t see the car. “Where?”

  “About seven cars back,” George said.

  Daniel saw them now. It was an ordinary-looking car. He could make out two men in the
front seat but couldn’t tell what they looked like. “Recognize any of them?” he asked.

  George shook his head. “Never saw any of them before.”

  “Did you come right to my house from the garage?”

  “No, sir,” George answered. “I had to pick up Mr. Gibbons from the hotel first and take him to the Teamster office for a meeting with Mr. Beck. I dropped him off, then came to get you.”

  Daniel nodded. It was a Teamster car and driver. Only normal that they take care of their own first. Hoffa had arranged for the car and driver to be available to him when he needed it. “Who do you think they are?”

  “I don’t know,” George said. “Could be cops. They use crummy cars like that.”

  “Did you mention it to Mr. Gibbons?”

  “No. I wasn’t sure then. It wasn’t until after I dropped him off and they still followed me that I was sure.”

  “Do you carry a gun?” Daniel asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Who else knew you were picking me up this morning?”

  “Everybody,” George answered. “The drivers’ assignments are posted on the bulletin board the night before.”

  Daniel looked back through the window. The Dodge was still there about five cars behind them. He turned back in his seat. “Jump the next red light and make a right turn. Then duck up the first alley you come to. Stop there and lie down on the front seat.”

  George glanced back in time to see Daniel taking the gun from his shoulder holster. His voice went dry. “Do you think there’ll be any shooting?”

  Daniel checked the cylinder of the revolver. “I don’t think so, but I learned a long time ago not to take any chances.”

  George’s hands tightened grimly on the wheel. They went three more blocks before George had his chance. He shot through the red light and made a sharp right. Daniel, watching through the rear window, didn’t see the blue car as they turned again into an alley. Halfway through to the next street, George stopped the car. He turned to look back.

  “Get down,” Daniel said sharply.

  George disappeared, and Daniel looked back at the street from the window. About a minute later, the blue car sped past the alley.

 

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