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“They also told me you find something attractive about this Amalgamated operation.”
“It’s about as up-to-date as can be,” Higgins answered vaguely. He glanced away from the tall detective’s probing gaze and changed the subject. “Somehow, I’ve got to convince the Strike Committee to stand up to the hotheads.”
“I’m afraid I’ve
got bad news on that score,” said Bell.
“Now what?”
“The Strike Committee was just rousted onto a special train headed for Morgantown, West Virginia.”
“What?”
“The Allegheny County sheriff extradited them to stand trial for the murder of Black Jack Gleason.”
Jim Higgins’s shoulders sagged. “They didn’t blow up Gleason’s yacht.”
“I’m sure they didn’t,” said Bell, “since they were in Chicago at the time. But proving that will take months.”
Higgins looked around for a place to sit, saw none, and stared helplessly at Isaac Bell. “Now it’s all on me,” he said. “But they’ve got me blocked at every turn.”
“Maybe Mary can help.”
Higgins shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you know what she’s up to?” Bell asked bluntly.
“She’s gone her own way.”
Bell asked, “Is she in danger?”
“If I believed in God, I’d say, God knows.” Jim Higgins lifted his eyes to the giant tipple. Suddenly, to Bell’s astonishment, he straightened his shoulders and stood tall. A thin smile crossed his face, expressing, Isaac Bell thought, a sad farewell to hope or a final good-bye to illusions.
“Whoever built this tipple knows his business. He’s got himself the center of coal distribution, east, west, north, and south.”
“It’s efficient,” said Bell. “I hear he’s putting the smaller coal yards out of business.”
“This point of land would have made a beautiful park.”
“I beg pardon, Jim?”
“Water on three sides, the way the river snakes around it. Just a short trolley ride from town. Imagine a great big Ferris wheel where the tipple is. Picnic grounds. Swimming pool. Carousel. Baseball diamonds. A racecourse. You could hold revival meetings. And Chautauqua assemblies.”
Isaac Bell looked up at the coal smoke matting the sky. “You would need a lot of imagination.”
“But imagine our tent city here instead of down in McKeesport. Winter’s coming. If we could occupy this place, we could shut it down. Industry’s furnaces will starve for fuel, and city dwellers freeze in their homes.”
“You sound like your sister,” said Bell.
“Maybe they’ll listen to us then…” He turned eagerly to Bell. “We wouldn’t have to shut it down. Once we were here and could shut it down, they would see our position and have to bargain. If we could threaten that shutdown, we’d settle a fair agreement and all go back to work.”
“That could happen,” Bell said neutrally. An Army general might see a certain raw genius to Higgins’s idea: Surrounded by water on three sides, the Amalgamated Coal Terminal’s point of land would be easier than most encampments to defend. A Navy admiral would see a trap, sitting ducks exposed to gunfire on three sides.
“But how do I move ten thousand miners from McKeesport to here with strikebreakers, company cops, and militia blocking the way?”
Bell was mindful of his orders not to take sides but concerned that Jim Higgins was turning a blind eye to the danger. He asked, “Would the men leave their families behind?”
Jim Higgins shook his head. “No… But, Isaac, this must be done. I have to find a way to move them here.”
