P. Alderman - Haunting Jordan

She realized what he was insinuating, and it made her nauseous. “You ordered the attack on Frank Lewis.”

His expression turned sly. “Now, what would you be knowin’ about that, Mrs. Longren?”

“It’s rumored around town.”

He laughed. “I don’t think so.”

It was all Hattie could do not to react with violence. Her shoulders rigid, she turned to the clerk. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Timothy, ma’am.”

“Well, Timothy, as of today, you’re in charge.”

Johnson’s amusement turned to shock. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“You’re fired, Mr. Johnson. Gather your personal belongings and clear out. Stop by my house tomorrow, and I will give you your final pay.”

“You can’t do that—I control this business.”

“Not anymore, you don’t.” Hattie placed both hands on the edge of his desk, leaning across it. “You’ve thwarted my every move, blocked every attempt I’ve made to understand and run this business the way Charles would have wanted it run.”

Johnson snorted. “That’s rich, by God. You don’t have no clue how your husband woulda wanted this business run. I was Longren’s friend—I knew more about ’im than you ever woulda, even if he’d lived.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about your trips with my husband to the Green Light, Mr. Johnson, and about the activities you engaged in. They would have been reason enough to fire you, even if you hadn’t given me additional cause.” She straightened and held out her hand. “The office keys, Mr. Johnson. You have ten minutes to clear out.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mrs. Longren.”

The mocking voice had her whirling in the direction of the back hallway. Michael Seavey emerged from the shadows to lean an elegantly clad shoulder against the wall by the clerk’s desk.

“Eavesdropping, Mr. Seavey?” she asked with as much poise as she could muster.

“I admit to it being a favorite pastime of mine.” He took a moment to light a cheroot. “Haven’t you ever heard the Chinese proverb ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ Hattie?”

“Now see here, Seavey—”

“Shut up.” Seavey didn’t bother to glance Johnson’s way, his tone pure steel. “I suggest you reconsider your position, Mrs. Longren. It would be best to leave Johnson in charge for now. Poor young Timothy here hasn’t the expertise to run the business, I’m afraid, and if you have to close your doors, even temporarily, your competitors will take advantage.”

“I’m not interested in continuing to employ thugs, Mr. Seavey. And it is none of your business how I conduct mine.” She stared him straight in the eye. “In attempting to advise me on this issue, you’re merely seeking to protect your own business interests, are you not?”

He looked amused. “I’ve always said you possessed a keen intelligence. However, my argument is not without merit. Longren Shipping can’t sustain a loss of clients without permanently closing its doors, I suspect, given the financial loss from the South Seas disaster.”

She hated to capitulate in front of Johnson, but she knew Seavey was at least partially correct in his assessment. She was being precipitous in her decision, and for all the wrong reasons. She was furious with Johnson—he’d as much as admitted his involvement in Frank’s attack—and she’d acted on impulse.

“Very well. I’ll withdraw my demand for now.” She turned to Timothy. “Those files, Timothy. And I expect you to visit me each morning at Longren House—you will report directly to me. Your job depends on your utter frankness with me, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Timothy handed her two file folders while casting a wary glance at Johnson. “I’ll do my best.”

Johnson folded his arms. “I won’t have no employee spyin’ on me.”

“Yes,” she replied quietly, “you will. You have no choice in the matter.”

* * *

SEAVEY followed Hattie out to the boardwalk. “You really must control that temper of yours, my dear.”

“You will address me properly, Mr. Seavey,” she snapped.

He executed one of his maddeningly mocking little bows. “As you wish, Mrs. Longren.”

Reining in her temper, she said, “Though you raised good points, I will not tolerate your interference in the future. Johnson must go. And I suggest you find some way to replace the business revenue you’ve enjoyed from your arrangement with Longren Shipping, because it won’t be continuing. I intend to unionize.”

He drew on his cheroot, then flicked it into the alley, where it sizzled in a puddle of water. “Unionization will take time—you can’t convert your crews overnight. And the other ships’ captains using Longren Shipping for their procurement won’t go along with your plans—at least, not initially.”

She crossed her arms. “I beg to differ.”

“You can’t expect people to accept a cut in profits without good reason.” His expression turned wry. “When it comes to money, I believe you’ll find few as altruistic as yourself.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I will be converting my own ships immediately, and I will also be shutting down any other questionable activities associated with them.” She cocked her head. “Rumor has it you are heavily involved in the white slave trade, Mr. Seavey. Was that the nature of your business with Charles? You control the tunnels, do you not?”

Something flickered in Seavey’s eyes, and he glanced around them. “These are not subjects to be discussed in public—they are far too dangerous.”

Taking her arm, he led her around the side of the building and into the alley. His bodyguards followed at a discreet distance, though they did little to ease her sudden nervousness. It was hardly safe to enter an alley with him, but then again, her thirst for answers overrode her sense of caution.

“Now tell me, Mrs. Longren, why you are asking about this?” Seavey asked once they were well away from passersby.

She debated how much to reveal. Seavey couldn’t be trusted, but she suspected he had knowledge of Charles’s affairs that no others were privy to. “Do you know whether Charles was involved in smuggling contraband on his ships?”

Seavey stared at her, his expression unreadable. “I suppose it’s possible. Precisely what do you know of smuggling activities concerned with Longren Shipping?”

“I’ll only say that I have in my possession evidence that leads me to believe Charles was involved in something illegal. You’re denying any personal involvement?”

He regarded her in silence, then shrugged. “I might bring in the odd box of cigars now and then, but I have no stomach for trafficking in humans.”

She frowned, unsure whether to believe him. “But human trafficking is occurring, is it not? Was Charles involved? Did he use your tunnels for that purpose?”

Seavey’s expression remained bland. “The tunnels run all along the waterfront, Mrs. Longren. I control only a small portion of them. Whoever is telling you this is either lying or has a personal reason to spread such rumors.”

“You’re prevaricating, Mr. Seavey. I strongly suspect you know more than you’re admitting.”

He merely shrugged. “I suggest you cease this avenue of inquiry. It’s an extremely dangerous one.”

“I can take care of myself,” she retorted, though she had no such confidence.

“I doubt that very much.” Seavey moved closer. “I have a proposition for you, Hattie. Protection in return for certain, shall we say, pleasurable ‘favors.’”

She took a step back, in the direction of the boardwalk, casting a glance behind her. “You must be mad—I would never agree to such an arrangement.”