by Charles Egan
*
Danny was concerned. Crawford’s visit had shaken him more than he had let on. Eckersley had been so violently attacked that he would never work again? He had not allowed for that. He thought of Jimmy Corrigan and the time he and Murtybeg had beaten him so badly in revenge for Nessa’s death. Corrigan had died in Liverpool Workhouse. But that had been different.
He wondered if he had done the right thing in approaching Brady.
Perhaps not. But McManus had been so persuasive. He wondered about McManus’ involvement. Was McManus himself in the Molly Maguires? He would have thought that most unlikely. He had known McManus since they were both children, and the subject had never been mentioned. On the other hand, the Molly Maguires were a secretive, oath-bound organisation. He knew, from stories he had heard in the past that men had been killed for breaking their oath of silence. But McManus as one of them? No. He could not believe that.
But there was worse. Now he himself was getting a reputation for brutality. Did that worry him? Certainly he was tough enough on his workers, but that never extended to that kind of savagery.
What worried him even more was Crawford’s suspicion. How far could this go? He guessed Sheridan was careful enough, and the beatings would not be traced back to him or to Brady, nor even to Danny himself. He resolved to have no more dealings with the gang. He would have to explain that to McManus, and probably also to Sheridan and Brady, but that could come later.
At the next ganger meeting, the question of shebeens was the first item to be discussed. All of the gangers declared ignorance as to who had carried out the beatings, though Danny knew McManus was lying, and McManus knew that Danny knew that.
‘I’m damned if I’d agree with something like that,’ Roughneen said, ‘but I won’t complain about the results. I’m damned glad to be rid of them. Bad cess to the lot of them.’
‘I think we’d all agree with that,’ Danny said. ‘We’ll have less fighting on the sites, especially on pay days.’
Quickly, Irene moved on to the next item on the agenda.
‘From what I can see, you’re all well on target, timewise.’
‘No problems there,’ McManus agreed. ‘The only question in my mind is – how long will the contracts last? There’s contracts being suspended all around us. Everyone says it’s only for a short time, but God knows what that means. A week? A month? A year?’
Danny decided it was time to intervene.
‘We’ve no need to worry as yet,’ he said. ‘There’s no suspensions on any of our contracts as yet.’
‘There’s rumours…’ Lavan interjected.
‘Rumours only,’ Irene said.
‘I don’t know,’ Lavan said. ‘The contract with Brassey, that’s damned near half of all of our business from what I understand.’
‘Less than that,’ Danny said. ‘But what’s your point?’
‘Brassey mightn’t have suspended any of the contracts on the North Staffordshire yet, but he’s sure as hell doing it everywhere else. Already he’s discharged twelve thousand navvies around England.’
‘Twelve thousand?’ Irene asked. ‘Where did they get a figure like that from? It’s all rumour.’
‘No rumour,’ Lavan said. ‘It’s official. A statement from Brassey’s own office, no less. It’s in all the papers.’
There was a silence around the room. Danny said nothing. He was surprised when Murty spoke.
‘I’m beginning to think you’re all scared of your own shadows. Brassey might be firing thousands of his fellows, but it’s not on the North Staffordshire. And do you know why not? Because they’re desperate to finish it. Right at the moment it’s a bottleneck between the South of England to the whole North West. They’ve spent hundreds of thousands – millions – on it and they won’t see a proper return on their investment until it’s complete. No, I’m reckoning the reverse is what’s going to happen. They’ll suspend it right enough. On the day it’s finished, not a moment sooner.’
Irene looked over to Murty, surprised. She had not expected this. Danny made to speak, but she held her hand up.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard today. It’s blindingly obvious, so much so I can’t think why I hadn’t seen it before. Danny neither, though he mightn’t admit it. Suspending the North Staffordshire at this stage would be financial suicide for the Railway. The directors, they know that, they must know it. And if I were a Railway director, the question I’d be asking is – can you finish even faster than you contracted for? What do you think?’
‘We could,’ Roughneen replied. ‘Given the workers, we can do anything.’
Danny arched his fingers, thinking. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And there’s two ways we can do that. The first is this. If there’s any suspension on any of our other sites, we can quickly transfer the navvies down to the North Staffordshire. But even if we keep all our other contracts, there’s no shortage of labour now. And it’s not just Brassey neither. They’re saying that there’s at least a hundred thousand Irish navvies out of work around England.’
‘Not hard to see either,’ Kearney said. ‘On every street corner, you see them. It’s amazing how quick it changed in a few months, isn’t it? Then, we were desperate for men. Now, if we only give the word, we’ll have lines of men begging for work.’
‘And no need for high wages either,’ Irene said.
‘I’m not so sure about that any longer,’ Murty said. ‘The kind of wages we’ve been paying, that’s fine for fellows coming straight off the boat from Achill or Erris. Fellows who’ve been working a year or two in England already, they’ll need something more.’
‘Not much more though,’ Irene said.
‘No, not much,’ Danny said. ‘Being out of work tames their demands. We’ll see.’
As the men made to leave after the meeting, Danny tapped McManus on the shoulder.
‘A word, Jamesy.’
‘Yes, Danny.’
They stepped into the corridor.
‘What on earth happened to that fellow in the shebeen? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I thought you knew. You were the one who organised it.’
‘Me? I spoke to Brady, and I spoke to Sheridan. They were talking about ‘gentle persuasion’. But damn it, that attack was vicious.’
‘I’m surprised at you, Danny,’ McManus said. ‘You should know what ‘gentle persuasion’ means by now. And anyhow, it was hardly more than the kind of brawl we have here every day. You’re lucky they didn’t go all out.’
‘All out,’ Danny exclaimed. ‘Like what?’
McManus drew his finger across his own throat. Danny looked at him horrified.
‘In the name of God, Jamesy, we can’t have that. The police are watching us as it is. If anyone dies, they’ll be down on us like a ton of bricks. Worse than that, they’ll be looking for someone to hang.’
‘You’re worrying too much,’ McManus said.
‘Like hell, I am. You just get a message through to Brady. Sheridan too. Tell them to go easy. I’m damned if I want to hang.’
‘But you know Brady better than I do.’
‘I might. But damn it, I’m running Edwardes & Ryan. I can’t be drawn into something like this. And in any case, Gene Brady is your cousin, not mine.’
McManus shook his head. ‘Fine so, Danny. I’ll write to Gene, though I reckon it’s all over already. The shebeens are gone, and they’re not coming back.’
When Danny returned, Irene was on her own in the office.
‘You know, Danny,’ she said, ‘these figures are very good. And I think your father was right. They’re not going to suspend the Brassey contract, but I reckon the faster we finish it, the more money we make.’
‘But then half our business will be gone.’
‘So what. We’ll have made the money, and we can afford to sit on our hands and wait for the next contracts to come along. And they’ll come.’
‘I wish I had your confidence.’
>
‘Of course they’ll come. You know why? Because half the other labour contractors are bankrupt. All they need is a little encouragement, and they’ll be gone.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You’ll see.’
A timber supplier came to the office, looking for a Mr. Miller. Danny waved him across to Irene.
‘I’m looking for Mr. Miller,’ he said.
‘You can call me that if you like,’ Irene said, ‘though most people call me Miss.’
The man looked bewildered, but then decided to accept the situation.
‘It’s about our last contract. We invoiced you for three hundred pounds. Payment within two weeks.’
‘Three months,’ Irene interrupted.
‘Three months! Never. I never agreed to that.’
‘We never agreed to anything.’
‘You can’t pay so.’
‘Oh, I can pay right enough,’ Irene said. ‘It’s you who can’t stand waiting. Bankrupt already?’
‘Me? Not I.’
‘That’s what you all say, but I know you are. And I intend to tell everyone. Three months are the terms, take it or leave it.’
The man looked at her in horror.
‘I know who your suppliers are,’ Irene went on. ‘All I need is to drop them a note. Let them all know you’re bankrupt. Three months is what I said.’
‘Three months,’ the man said. ‘That’s criminal.’
‘Call it what you like,’ Irene said. ‘They’re my terms. Take them, or take the consequences.’
‘I…I can’t.’
‘So you really are bankrupt. Why don’t you admit it?’
The man was sweating heavily. He stared at Irene in the eyes, but then dropped his eyes.
‘Well, supposing I am.’
For fully half a minute, Irene said nothing, pretending she was thinking. Danny was going to speak, but he felt it was better to leave it to her. When she spoke again, she sounded almost reasonable.
‘Fine,’ she said, ‘I’ll help you. If you’re that desperate for cash, I’ll offer you COD – Cash on Delivery. Would that help?’
‘It would.’
‘Three hundred pounds, you said. I can pay you straight away. There will, of course, be a matter of a small commission.’
‘Commission?’
‘Let’s say thirty pounds. I can give you £270. All paid.’
‘But…’
‘Your choice.’
Silence again.
‘I’ll take it.’
‘Thank you,’ Irene said. ‘Now let’s discuss how we go forward. We’re looking for timber for shoring. As it happens, we also have a new contract for laying sleepers. I understand you have over three thousand tons in stock. You need cash on all of that. We’ll need them delivered – shoring timbers and sleepers cut to length. That way, we can clear out your entire stock for you.’
‘You can take my entire stock?’
‘That’s what I said. It’s your only chance of avoiding bankruptcy. You should be grateful. Now how many tons do you have exactly?’
The negotiations continued, on Irene’s terms. All this time, Danny had said nothing. He waited until the man had gone.
‘How did you know he was bankrupt?’ he asked.
‘Know it!’ Irene said. ‘Read the papers. They’re all bankrupt. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have been so frightened. He could have proven it quick enough – letters of credit through his bank, or whatever. And if he had stood up to me, I’d have given in – given him his two weeks, at the full price. But he didn’t have the guts, did he?’
‘I read the papers too, but I still wouldn’t have guessed he was bankrupt. You’ve other sources of information, haven’t you?’
‘One only. Would you like to meet him?’
‘I would. And the sooner the better.’
A few days later, they had a visitor. The maid showed him into the office.
He took Irene’s hand. ‘Irene, how nice to see you again.’
‘You too, Nick.’ She sat him at the table. ‘And I’d like you to meet my husband-to-be, Daniel Ryan. Danny, meet Nick Roscoe.’
Danny shook his hand, observing him closely. Intelligent, no doubt about that. Tough too? Perhaps.
‘Mr. Roscoe. I haven’t heard of you.’
‘No?’
‘My fault,’ Irene interjected. ‘I wasn’t expecting you this morning, Nick. I haven’t had a chance of explaining anything to Danny.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ Danny said.
‘So…I’ve known Nick here for ten years at least. Ever since I was a junior legal secretary working with Rothwells. Nick used to work for the Liverpool Detective Police, though that was some time ago, wasn’t it Nick?’
‘Indeed it was.’
‘In Rothwells we used to use Nick for private investigations, ever since he left the police. Family cases mostly, following wayward husbands around, working to see if their wives suspicions were right.’
Danny laughed.
‘And how would you do that?’
‘Oh, many different ways,’ Roscoe replied. ‘Everyone says I know every whorehouse in Manchester, though those stories might be a little embellished. It was a long time ago anyhow. Ever since then, I’ve been moving more into business and industrial investigation, gathering commercial intelligence on suppliers and competitors on behalf of various Rothwell clients. Much more the kind of thing you’d be interested in, I think.’
The maid had arrived with the tea. Carefully she poured it out.
When she had left, Roscoe slipped an envelope across the table to Irene. She took the contents out. At first she was puzzled. All she could see were small, rough pieces of paper. Then she realised she was looking at two paper sheets which had been torn up. Each of them had been carefully re-assembled and glued onto whole sheets.
‘What are these?’ she asked.
‘Two documents that might interest you.’ he said. ‘Took me all night. They really tore them up small.’
‘So I see.’
‘Nearly a hundred scraps each. I had to sort them all, get them in order, and then glue them onto the two backing sheets.’
She peered closer. ‘You’ve done a great job, Nick.
‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘As you can see, one is Baxendales Balance Sheet…’
‘Baxendales!’ Danny exclaimed.
‘Yes, Mr. Ryan. It’s current from two weeks ago. The other document is a letter addressed to Mr. Baxendale by a Mr. Halliwell. He’s the man in charge of accounts at the company.’
Danny pulled his seat around to Irene’s side. Quickly, they both glanced through the figures on the Balance Sheet. Assets against Liabilities. Danny saw the balancing figure was positive, showing that Baxendales was solvent, if barely so.
But slowly he began to realise that all was not as it seemed. The assets showed the usual items – Baxendales’ head office building, their various yards, machinery, stocks of timber and stone, as well as their cash holdings. But on the bottom of the assets, there were five outside investments, and the figures were considerable.
‘And these are the interesting ones,’ Roscoe said. ‘Second down is Tetlow & Royle. They’re a timber importer, specialising in the Quebec trade. Bankrupted four weeks ago. Goodfellows here is in the India trade. Went down about the same time. But the last one is the most interesting.’
Danny followed where his finger was pointing.
‘Oh my God. The Royal Bank…’
‘Yes,’ Roscoe said, ‘The Royal Bank of Liverpool. Once the safest bank in the country. Their shares are worthless now. And if you take these three out, the remaining outside investments are worth very little.’
‘Yes,’ Danny said, ‘I can see that.’
‘But if the assets are worth much less than you might think, the liabilities are even more interesting.’
‘I can see they’re borrowing from the Manchester & Salford,’ Irene said. ‘You told me that. And…what? Three m
ore?’
‘Exactly, Irene. Three more banks. And I’ll guarantee you, none of them know about the others. And the yards and the buildings are mortgaged four times over. It’s a serious fraud. The directors could be jailed for that alone.’
She flicked through the account manager’s letter. ‘And Mr. Halliwell knows all this?’
‘Yes, and now the Baxendale family do too. All of them. By law, the directors have to inform the Detective Police here in Manchester.’
‘I doubt they’d do that.’
‘No. But I’ll tell you one thing, Irene, if any of their creditors were to know, Baxendales would be in trouble. And if the Manchester & Salford knew about this – that would be the end of Baxendales.’
Danny considered the matter. Many questions ran through his mind.
‘How did you manage to get this?’ he asked.
‘Very easy, Mr. Ryan. There’s a bar just beside Baxendales’ offices. Their staff drink in there. I sat in there on occasional nights, listening to the conversation. One evening, when all the clerks had gone home, two elderly women came in. They were Irish.’
‘Irish!’
‘Yes. Two charladies. They were complaining about the way they were treated. Real angry, they were. So I waited until one had left the bar and began to talk to the second. She was very bitter. She was being treated with utter contempt, and paid in pennies. I arranged to meet her in another bar, and when I finally gained her confidence, I offered her five shillings for the contents of the directors’ waste paper baskets, particularly of Mr. Baxendale’s office. You know, it’s amazing how these kind of people treat their staff, and how they assume they have no ears. I must admit, a lot of what she gave me was worthless, but as you can see, these two documents are pure gold.’
Danny nodded. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘Very simple, Mr. Ryan. First, I’ve got two copies of each, for your records and mine. Then the originals go to the Manchester & Salford. Board level. The other banks too, we’ll send them copies.’