It’s a polite demonstration of who’s in charge. I’ve overstepped.I know I have.
He puffs out a cloud, “You’d think someone in your position would show more respect.”
The middle ground here is to not say anything. I’m not going to apologize, but I’ll try to keep a cool head.
He examines the cigar carefully before going on. “This city was carved into pieces a long time ago. Boundaries that, up until what happened with your father, had been maintained for decades.”
I nod. He’s being cordial. I’ll take my cue from him.
“This family—your father’s family—controlled certain territories. We still do.”
“What do you mean—controlled certain territories?”
He looks at me shrewdly, “Do you understand howour thingworks?”
“You’re criminals?”
He smiles, “No,” and shakes his head. “The government is an organization. You pay them taxes for services,” he explains withhis hands. “They are only legitimate because mass consensus deems it so.Theysteal more than anybody.Theyare criminals.”
“Okay,” I humor him.
“But there are certain things they cannot do, which we can. Our territories pay us for certain services. Protection, for instance.”
“Protection from what?”
“Gangs, unsavory elements…many things. We administer a justice that the government cannot provide. There will always be crime. We simply control that crime in an organized way so that the people are not hurt by it.”
“Hmm.”
“Mayors, governors, presidents…they all pilfer your tax money and use it for their own ends. They do favors for their friends and award them contracts. Those friends overbill…underdeliver…all this is crime.”
“I see.”I never thought about it that way.
“The common people respect us in a way they don’t respect the police and the politicians. We can keep them in line with both respectandfear…because people do notfearthe police. The police have rules. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“This is how it was done in the old country. When the Italian American community began to grow here, we brought the old ways with us. We look after our own. You see?”
“I do.”I’m getting the Mafia 101 here.It does make sense though.
“Now, in the same way the government makes money from taxes so they can keep their power, we need sources of revenue too. People will always want booze, gambling, women…things like this.”
“Women?”
“Sex for money is the oldest profession in the world,” he puffs out a cloud of smoke, “look it up on your phone. This is another thing that we can control, so the girls work, but are not hurt or abused in any way. We also ensure they can ply their trade without interference from the police.”
I nod. This is all making a lot more sense than I thought it would.
“Now, we are always looking for new sources of revenue, like any business would. It’s how you grow.”
“I understand.”
“The Cassaduchis chose drugs, but the routes they needed to make their operation feasible lay on our territory. They sat down with us and tried to negotiate.” He puts the cigar down on an ashtray. “Your father would not have it.”
“You mean he told them—No?”
“Yes,” he nods gravely, “as his consiglieri—his council—I advised him we should try to reach some sort of compromise. His answer was that there was no compromise to make. He said cocaine and heroin would destroy the communities we protect.”