Anyway, they carved out their piece.

Because of Moretti’s prestige, his son-in-law Joe Migliore got a pass in San Diego, never having to kick up or even answer to L.A. It was like Detroit had its own separate little colony in the Gaslamp District. They still do-Joe’s kid, Teddy, still has Callahan’s down in the Lamp, and runs his other businesses from the back room.

“If Detroit set you up with these connections,” Frank tells Mouse Junior, “youdo owe them.”

“Not sixty percent,” Mouse Junior whines. “We do all the work-make the videos, set up the warehouses, do the bootlegs, get to the Asian markets. Now this guy wants a majority share? I don’tthink so.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Vince Vena,” Mouse Junior tells him.

“You’re sideways with Vince Vena?” Frank asks. “You do have a problem, kid.”

Vince Vena is a heavy guy.

Word is, he just made it on the ruling council of the Combination. No wonder Mouse Junior is scared. The L.A. family was never that strong-it used to bow to New York, then Chicago, and now there’s a power vacuum as the East Coast families are getting hammered by old age, attrition, and the RICO statutes. So now Detroit is positioning itself to move in on what’s left of the West Coast, and in one of the few profit centers left. And it makes sense to start with Mouse’s kid, because if you pull that off, you’re proving a point: Mouse Senior is so weakened by the Goldstein indictments, he doesn’t have the strength to protect his own son.

If Vena succeeds in extorting sixty points out of Mouse Junior, the L.A. family might just as well give up the ghost entirely. Which is fine with me, Frank thinks. New York, Chicago, Detroit, it’s all the same. It’s all going the way of the dinosaur anyway. Doesn’t matter who shuts the lights out-it’s still dark.