Free Operation Underworld by Paddy Kelly

that kid broken in yet? God-damn it!” The heavy-set foreman scowled as he walked by the two workers, who were standing next to a 1,500lb crate of loose M & M’s.
    “Not yet, Bennie. Just showin’ him around,” Danny yelled back.
    “Well, get a foot under it! You ain’t bein’ paid to be a wet nurse!”
    “How come he’s always yellin’?” asked the sixteen-year-old dockworker.
    Danny answered as he continued to shift freight. “’Cos, kid, he got ulcers. And he gets a bonus if he can get us to move extra freight. And he just got some bad news this mornin’.”
    “Like what?” the kid asked, not really interested, but making conversation as he helped Danny.
    “Like Joey Morretti is doin’ his wife.”
    “Joey Morretti from here?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Shit!”
    “Yeah.”
    “Whata ya think’s gonna happen?”
    “Don’t know. He only found out a half hour ago, and Morretti ain’t come to work yet.” Danny updated the kid while they continued to move some boxes to give the illusion of working.
    “Anyways, what wuz you askin’me?”
    “What’s OS & D?”
    Danny looked around the floor and located a small wooden crate with a red metal tag wired to it. He motioned the kid over and began to explain.
    “Okay, ya see dis here Spanish wine?” His apprentice nodded. Danny pulled back his right leg and one of his US Army issue paratrooper boots crashed into and through the pine crate. Rich coloured amontillado spilled out through the broken glass, staining the broken crate and concrete a dark red. The smell of alcohol permeated the air.
    “Now,” said Danny as he continued the lesson. “Ya see that red tag?” The kid nodded. “That means this piece of freight is insured for ten thousand dollars or more. But one of them bottles is busted. Which means now we gotta put this in OS & D. Over, Short and Damaged. Why?”
    “Because it’s damaged?” the kid responded in disbelief.

    “Very good.” Gesturing to the bin, Danny said, “Gimme a hand.” And off they went with ten thousand dollars’ worth of cracked timber and broken glass.
    “When we’re done here, we gotta load a flat bed with some oil ta go over ta the fish market.”
    About ten or twelve yards from the bin, Danny looked up as he heard screaming coming from the office area which was just adjacent to OS & D. The screams were punctuated by the sounds of breaking furniture and through the window the pair could see that the stocky foreman had just thrown someone to the floor by way of a desk, and was viciously attempting to rip the time clock off the wall. Danny, with twelve years on the wharf, understood instantly.
    “Shit! Kid, drop the crate!”
    “What is it?”
    “Looks like Morretti came to work!”
    Just then, Joey’s battered body came crashing through the plate glass office window and hit the concrete floor of the dock with a sickening smack.
    “No matter what happens, don’t interfere!” Danny cautioned at the unexpected extension of the lesson. The kid suddenly noticed colours were a little brighter, and the harbour smelled stronger than usual.
    There was surprisingly little blood surrounding the body that was lying there amongst the broken shards of glass. As Joey began to roll over, his supervisor broke out the remnants of the office window with a metal chair, threw it at Morretti, and stepped through the broken frame and out onto the platform. The burly foreman, completely consumed by rage, steam rising from his sweaty face in the cold morning air, looked around for another weapon.
    By this time, most of the workers had gathered at that end of the dock to watch the latest show. Joey, now up on all fours, blood dripping from his nose, watched as his opponent spotted a bailing hook stuck into a nearby crate, and slowly moved towards the vicious tool. Joey seemed paralysed.
    An eerie silence befell the terminal, accentuating the screaming of the gulls circling outside as they fought over a piece of meat.
    “Morretti