"The yield in the southern provinces is down four percent, and the unions are whispering about a strike in the shipping yards."
Matteo did not look up from his heavy desk.
He kept his eyes on the ledgers. His pen made a sharp sound as he scratched a black line through a row of numbers. The office was silent except for the ticking of a large clock in the corner.
"Fix it," Matteo said.
Nico shifted his weight. His leather shoes made a small noise on the floor. "It's not just the money, boss. The northern families are offering them a better deal to slow down our work. If the ships do not move by Monday, we lose the contract with the Greeks."
Matteo finally closed his pen. He leaned back in his chair.
"I do not want you to tell me why things are failing, Nico. I want you to make sure they don't," Matteo said quietly.
