A Crisis With Hop

We Can't Have This

Carol's new occupation of mending clothes in the wardrobe of the theater had proved good for her. Impressed with her skill, I mentioned it to Ingrid, my dress maker. Ingrid suggested that I have Carol talk to her. If she proved good enough, Ingrid said she might hire her. I had suggested designs to Ingrid before this and she was impressed. Carol knew even more about fashion than I and I felt Carol could benefit Ingrid greatly.

"I need more." Phillip begged me.

I had come to visit after Phillip had a violent reaction to the smaller doses of opium over the past few days. "No. You do not. You are having withdraws. Be happy that you are getting what you have been. It helps control the withdraws."

Phillip slammed his fists on the table. "I need it, you bitch."

Both of Luke's men moved in and restrained Phillip. They made him sit back down at the table.

"You listen to me, Phillip. After beating up on my Sister, you are lucky not to be floating in the harbor." I said calmly.

Phillip was still red in the face, breathing hard. His fists clenched. He was afraid of the two men with him. After his attack on them they had beat him until he regained a little common sense.

I stood up and left. Things would continue as they were. Until it was time to either kill Phillip or let him go back to his old life. At this point I really didn't care. I didn't love Phillip, nor did I know him that well. If he returned to the old Phillip that both Carol and Luke loved, so be it. If not, he would just be another body in the harbor.

It sounds harsh. It is a harsh world. We have to be harsh to survive in it. Luke taught me that. As did the people who actively tried to kill or hurt us over the last several months I've been involved with Luke. I don't like killing. Nor do I take any special joy in it. It is necessary for our survival and I won't hesitate to sacrifice someone that is a threat to those in our organization.

"I've had another death in one of our speakeasies." Luke informed his partners. Marco and Bobby were seated in their usual chairs. Another man had pulled a chair up to the desk.

His name was Thane. A colored man who was handling the colored people we employed now for bands and other entertainment. He was also in charge of the black speakeasies we had begun to establish in the city. Many of them attended by as many whites as colored folk. He was a junior partner, but may well become a full partner if he proved his salt. We were equal opportunity employers. Skin was no barrier.

Like O'brien, Thane was a pilot and fought in France during the Great War. A pilot for the French who did not have the same problems with skin color as Americans did. There was discrimination, but not compared to Americans. He had stayed in France until the recent racial problems had broken out in Germany and seemed to be spreading in Europe.

"We can't have this. It draws attention to our activities. In addition it sends out the wrong signals to our clientele. I want all of our men to look for drug activities in the clubs, speakeasies, and our party boats. Remove anyone dealing and don't let addicts or users in." Luke explained. "This has to stop. I also want to know who the new drug kingpin is in New York. Someone has to be distributing these drugs and I want to take out the source before it gets any worse."

"It would be better to negotiate with whoever it is." Marco said. "If we try to take out this new kingpin, we may be in for a war like the ones that are starting in Chicago. We don't want that."

"As long as this person understands that our clubs are off limits to his dealers, I'll consider negotiation. Otherwise, if we have to take him out, we do so thoroughly and leave nothing for the gang to fight with or anyone alive who will fight us." Luke made it clear that he had made his decision.

"Whatever you say, boss." O'Brien and Thane left the office.

"Marco? Do you want something?" Luke watched Marco continue to puff on his cigar.

"My girls are often addicts. That is how I keep them in their present occupation." Marco blew out blue smoke from his cigar. "I'd hate to have to kill a gift horse."

I don't like Marco. I don't like his prostitution racket. I know what happens to the girls in his organization. They get used up. Grow old and ugly due to their harsh life. Then they end up dead in some alley. Usually due to their own poor judgment. Marco is also a necessary evil. Aside from booze, dancing, and music our clientele wanted sex.

"We'll come to that when it is necessary. If it is necessary." Luke said.