Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

It was Clemenza who had told him that this job must be rushed through, before the boys went to college. Why the hell did it have to be done in New York, Gatto wondered. Clemenza was always giving extra orders instead of just giving out the job. Now if those two little tramps walked out with the punks it would be another night wasted.

He could hear one of the girls laughing and saying, "Are you crazy, Jerry? I'm not going in any car with you. I don't want to wind up in the hospital like that other poor girl." Her voice was spitefully rich with satisfaction. That was enough for Gatto. He finished up his beer and walked out into the dark street. Perfect. It was after midnight. There was only one other bar that showed light. The rest of the stores were closed. The precinct patrol car had been taken care of by Clemenza. They wouldn't be around that way until they got a radio call and then they'd come slow.

He leaned against the four-door Chevy sedan. In the back seat two men were sitting, almost invisible, although they were very big men. Paulie said, "Take them when they come out."

He still thought it had all been set up too fast. Clemenza had given him copies of the police mug shots of the two punks, the dope on where the punks went drinking every night to pick up bar girls. Paulie had recruited two of the strong-arms in the family and fingered the punks for them. He had also given them their instructions. No blows on the top or the back of the head, there was to be no accidental fatality. Other than that they could go as far as they liked. He had given them only one warning: "If those punks get out of the hospital in less than a month, you guys go back to driving trucks."

The two big men were getting out of the car. They were both ex-boxers who had never made it past the small clubs and had been fixed up by Sonny Corleone with a little loan-shark action so that they could make a decent living. They were, naturally, anxious to show their gratitude.

When Jerry Wagner and Kevin Moonan came out of the bar they were perfect setups (они были в отличной форме, отлично подготовлены /для предстоящего/; setup – установка, наладка). The bar girl's taunts (насмешки; taunt [to:nt] – язвительное замечание) had left their adolescent vanity prickly (оставили их подростковую гордость в раздраженном состоянии; adolescent [æd∂u’lesnt]; vanity [‘vænıtı] – тщеславие; prick – шип, колючка). Paulie Gatto, leaning against the fender of his car (прислонившись к крылу своего автомобиля), called out to them with a teasing laugh (с дразнящим смехом, смешком), "Hey, Casanova, those broads really brushed you off (здорово те девки дали тебе от ворот поворот; brush – щетка; to brush off – смахнуть; отмахнуться, «послать»)."

The two young men turned on him with delight (повернулись и направились к нему с восторгом). Paulie Gatto looked like a perfect outlet for their humiliation (как отличная отдушина для их унижения, униженности; to humiliate [hju’mılıeıt] – унижать, оскорблять). Ferret-faced (с лицом, как у хорька), short, slightly built (тщедушно сложенный; slightly – слегка, незначительно) and a wise guy in the bargain (да еще и умник в придачу; bargain ['bα:gın] – сделка, соглашение). They pounced on him eagerly (они рьяно набросились на него; pounce – коготь /ястреба/; to pounce – хватать когтями; внезапно атаковать) and immediately found their arms pinned (захваченными, зажатыми; pin – любой продолговатый предмет для соединения, сцепления чего-либо; to pin – сцеплять, прикалывать; прижать, придавить) by two men grabbing them from behind (схватившими их сзади). At the same moment Paulie Gatto had slipped onto his right hand (незаметно взял; to slip – скользить) a specially made set of brass knuckles (металлический кастет; brass – медь; knuckle – сустав /пальца/; knuckles – кастет) studded (обитый, усеянный; stud – гвоздь /с большой шляпкой/, штифт) with one-sixteenth-inch iron spikes (железными шипами в одну шестнадцатую дюйма; inch = 2,5 см). His timing was good (расчет времени, координация /движений/), he worked out in the gym (в гимнастическом зале) three times a week. He smashed (двинул; to smash – наносить сокрушительный удар, разбивать вдребезги) the punk named Wagner right on the nose. The man holding Wagner lifted him up off the ground and Paulie swung his arm (размахнулся; to swing), uppercutting into the perfectly positioned groin (в удобно подставленный пах). Wagner went limp (обмяк; limp – мягкий, нежесткий) and the big man dropped him. This had taken no more than six seconds.

Now both of them turned their attention to Kevin Moonan, who was trying to shout. The man holding him from behind did so easily with one huge muscled arm. The other hand he put around Moonan's throat (вокруг горла) to cut off any sound.

Paulie Gatto jumped into the car and started the motor. The two big men were beating Moonan to jelly (до состояния желе). They did so with frightening deliberation (с пугающей рассчетливостью, неспешностью; deliberation – рассуждение, размышление; медлительность), as if they had all the time in the world. They did not throw punches in flurries (они не «бросали удары кулаком суетливыми движениями»; flurry – шквал /ветра/; волнение, спешка, суета) but in timed, slow-motion sequences (но с размеренной, как бы замедленной постепенностью, размеренными сериями /ударов/; sequence [‘si:kw∂ns] – последовательность, очередность; серия) that carried the full weight (которые несли полный вес) of their massive bodies. Each blow landed with a splat (всплеском, шлепком) of flesh splitting open (трескающейся, разбивающейся плоти). Gatto got a glimpse of Moonan's face. It was unrecognizable (неузнаваемо [Ln’rek∂gnaız∂bl]; to recognize [’rek∂gnaız] – узнавать). The two men left Moonan lying on the sidewalk (на боковой дорожке, тротуаре) and turned their attention to Wagner. Wagner was trying to get to his feet and he started to scream for help. Someone came out of the bar and the two men had to work faster now. They clubbed Wagner to his knees (ударами подняли на ноги; club – дубинка; to club – бить /напр. дубинкой/). One of the men took his arm and twisted it (вывернул), then kicked him in the spine (пнул ногой в позвоночник). There was a cracking sound (что-то хрустнуло; to crack – трещать, хрустеть) and Wagner's scream of agony brought windows open (заставил распахнуться окна) all along the street. The two men worked very quickly. One of them held Wagner up by using his two hands around Wagner's head like a vise (как тиски). The other man smashed his huge fist into the fixed target (в закрепленную цель). There were more people coming out of the bar but none tried to interfere (вмешаться [ınt∂'fı∂]). Paulie Gatto yelled, "Come on, enough (ладно, хватит)." The two big men jumped into the car and Paulie gunned it away (умчал ее, дал полный газ; to gun – /разг./ давать полный газ). Somebody would describe the car and read the license plates (license plate – номерной знак автомобиля) but it didn't matter. It was a stolen California plate and there were one hundred thousand black Chevy sedans in New York City.

When Jerry Wagner and Kevin Moonan came out of the bar they were perfect setups. The bar girl's taunts had left their adolescent vanity prickly. Paulie Gatto, leaning against the fender of his car, called out to them with a teasing laugh, "Hey, Casanova, those broads really brushed you off."

The two young men turned on him with delight. Paulie Gatto looked like a perfect outlet for their humiliation. Ferret-faced, short, slightly built and a wise guy in the bargain. They pounced on him eagerly and immediately found their arms pinned by two men grabbing them from behind. At the same moment Paulie Gatto had slipped onto his right hand a specially made set of brass knuckles studded with one-sixteenth-inch iron spikes. His timing was good, he worked out in the gym three times a week. He smashed the punk named Wagner right on the nose. The man holding Wagner lifted him up off the ground and Paulie swung his arm, uppercutting into the perfectly positioned groin. Wagner went limp and the big man dropped him. This had taken no more than six seconds.

Now both of them turned their attention to Kevin Moonan, who was trying to shout. The man holding him from behind did so easily with one huge muscled arm. The other hand he put around Moonan's throat to cut off any sound.

Paulie Gatto jumped into the car and started the motor. The two big men were beating Moonan to jelly. They did so with frightening deliberation, as if they had all the time in the world. They did not throw punches in flurries but in timed, slow-motion sequences that carried the full weight of their massive bodies. Each blow landed with a splat of flesh splitting open. Gatto got a glimpse of Moonan's face. It was unrecognizable. The two men left Moonan lying on the sidewalk and turned their attention to Wagner. Wagner was trying to get to his feet and he started to scream for help. Someone came out of the bar and the two men had to work faster now. They clubbed Wagner to his knees. One of the men took his arm and twisted it, then kicked him in the spine. There was a cracking sound and Wagner's scream of agony brought windows open all along the street. The two men worked very quickly. One of them held Wagner up by using his two hands around Wagner's head like a vise. The other man smashed his huge fist into the fixed target. There were more people coming out of the bar but none tried to interfere. Paulie Gatto yelled, "Come on, enough." The two big men jumped into the car and Paulie gunned it away. Somebody would describe the car and read the license plates but it didn't matter. It was a stolen California plate and there were one hundred thousand black Chevy sedans in New York City.

Chapter 2

1 Tom Hagen went to his law office in the city on Thursday morning. He planned to catch up on his paper work (нагнать /упущенное/; to catch up – быстро схватить, подхватить) so as to have everything cleared away for the meeting with Virgil Sollozzo on Friday. A meeting of such importance that he had asked the Don for a full evening of talk to prepare for the proposition (чтобы подготовиться для предложения) they knew Sollozzo would offer the family business. Hagen wanted to have all little details cleared away so that he could go to that preparatory meeting with an unencumbered mind («с необремененным умом»; to encumber [ın’kLmb∂] – загромождать).

2 The Don had not seemed surprised when Hagen returned from California late Tuesday evening and told him the results of the negotiations with Woltz. He had made Hagen go over every detail and grimaced with distaste (с отвращением = от отвращения) when Hagen told about the beautiful little girl and her mother. He had murmured "infamita," his strongest disapproval (неодобрение). He has asked Hagen one final question. "Does this man have real balls (настоящие яйца = мужество, пойдет ли он до конца)?"

3 Hagen considered exactly (поразмыслил точно) what the Don meant by this question. Over the years he had learned that the Don's values (ценности: value [‘vælju:]) were so different from those of most people that his words also could have a different meaning. Did Woltz have character ([‘kærıkt∂])? Did he have a strong will (сильную волю)? He most certainly did, but that was not what the Don was asking. Did the movie producer have the courage not to be bluffed? Did he have the willingness to suffer heavy financial loss (понести тяжелую финансовую потерю; to suffer – страдать) delay on his movies would mean (которую будет означать отсрочка), the scandal of his big star exposed (выставленному напоказ) as a user of heroin? Again the answer was yes. But again this was not what the Don meant. Finally Hagen translated the question properly (как следует, верно) in his mind. Did Jack Woltz have the balls to risk everything, to run the chance (рискнуть: «подвергнуться возможности») of losing all on a matter of principle (ради принципа), on a matter of honor; for revenge (ради мести)?

4 Hagen smiled. He did it rarely but now he could not resist jesting with the Don (не мог удержаться от шутки, чтобы не пошутить; to resist – сопротивляться). "You're asking if he is a Sicilian." The Don nodded his head pleasantly, acknowledging the flattering witticism (признавая, подтверждая /одобрительно/ лестную остроту) and its truth. "No," Hagen said.

5 That had been all. The Don had pondered the question (размышлял) until the next day. On Wednesday afternoon he had called Hagen to his home and given him his instructions. The instructions had consumed (поглотили) the rest of Hagen's working day and left him dazed with admiration (изумленным от восхищения /Доном/; to daze – изумить, ошеломить). There was no question in his mind that the Don had solved the problem, that Woltz would call him this morning with the news that Johnny Fontane had the starring part in his new war movie.

6 At that moment the phone did ring but it was Amerigo Bonasera. The undertaker's voice was trembling with gratitude (дрожащим от благодарности). He wanted Hagen to convey (передать, выразить /чувства/ [k∂n’veı]) to the Don his undying friendship. The Don had only to call on him (пусть только позвонит ему). He, Amerigo Bonasera, would lay down his life (жизнь положит) for the blessed (ради благословенного; to bless – благославлять) Godfather. Hagen assured him that the Don would be told (что Дону будет сказано).

7 The Daily News had carried a middle-page spread (разворот) of Jerry Wagner and Kevin Moonan lying in the street. The photos were expertly gruesome («профессионально, умело» отвратительные, ужасные), they seemed to be pulps of human beings (каждый из них казался какой-то бесформенной массой, а не человеческим существом: «/из/ человеческого существа»; pulp – мягкая масса, мяготь). Miraculously (как ни удивительно, чудесным образом), said the News, they were both still alive though they would both be in the hospital for months and would require plastic surgery (им понадобятся пластические операции; to require – требовать; нуждаться в чем-либо). Hagen made a note to tell Clemenza that something should be done for Paulie Gatto. He seemed to know his job.

8 Hagen worked quickly and efficiently for the next three hours consolidating earning reports (объединяя отчеты о доходах) from the Don's real estate company (real estate – недвижимое имущество), his olive oil importing business and his construction firm (строительной фирмы). None of them were doing well (нигде дела не шли хорошо) but with the war over (с окончанием войны) they should all become rich producers. He had almost forgotten the Johnny Fontane problem when his secretary told him California was calling. He felt a little thrill (возбуждение, нервная дрожь, трепет) of anticipation (предчувствия) as he picked up the phone and said, "Hagen here."

9 The voice that came over the phone was unrecognizable with hate and passion. "You fucking bastard," Woltz screamed. "I'll have you all in jail for a hundred years. I'll spend every penny I have to get you (чтобы добраться до тебя). I'll get that Johnny Fontane's balls cut off (устрою, чтобы ему отрезали яйца), do you hear me, you guinea fuck?"

10 Hagen said kindly (любезным, вежливым голосом), "I'm German-Irish." There was a long pause and then a click (щелчок) of the phone being hung up (которую вешают). Hagen smiled. Not once (ни разу) had Woltz uttered a threat against Don Corleone himself. Genius had its rewards (гениальность имеет свои вознаграждения).

1 Tom Hagen went to his law office in the city on Thursday morning. He planned to catch up on his paper work so as to have everything cleared away for the meeting with Virgil Sollozzo on Friday. A meeting of such importance that he had asked the Don for a full evening of talk to prepare for the proposition they knew Sollozzo would offer the family business. Hagen wanted to have all little details cleared away so that he could go to that preparatory meeting with an unencumbered mind.

2 The Don had not seemed surprised when Hagen returned from California late Tuesday evening and told him the results of the negotiations with Woltz. He had made Hagen go over every detail and grimaced with distaste when Hagen told about the beautiful little girl and her mother. He had murmured "infamita," his strongest disapproval. He has asked Hagen one final question. "Does this man have real balls?"

3 Hagen considered exactly what the Don meant by this question. Over the years he had learned that the Don's values were so different from those of most people that his words also could have a different meaning. Did Woltz have character? Did he have a strong will? He most certainly did, but that was not what the Don was asking. Did the movie producer have the courage not to be bluffed? Did he have the willingness to suffer heavy financial loss delay on his movies would mean, the scandal of his big star exposed as a user of heroin? Again the answer was yes. But again this was not what the Don meant. Finally Hagen translated the question properly in his mind. Did Jack Woltz have the balls to risk everything, to run the chance of losing all on a matter of principle, on a matter of honor; for revenge?

4 Hagen smiled. He did it rarely but now he could not resist jesting with the Don. "You're asking if he is a Sicilian." The Don nodded his head pleasantly, acknowledging the flattering witticism and its truth. "No," Hagen said.

5 That had been all. The Don had pondered the question until the next day. On Wednesday afternoon he had called Hagen to his home and given him his instructions. The instructions had consumed the rest of Hagen's working day and left him dazed with admiration. There was no question in his mind that the Don had solved the problem, that Woltz would call him this morning with the news that Johnny Fontane had the starring part in his new war movie.

6 At that moment the phone did ring but it was Amerigo Bonasera. The undertaker's voice was trembling with gratitude. He wanted Hagen to convey to the Don his undying friendship. The Don had only to call on him. He, Amerigo Bonasera, would lay down his life for the blessed Godfather. Hagen assured him that the Don would be told.

7 The Daily News had carried a middle-page spread of Jerry Wagner and Kevin Moonan lying in the street. The photos were expertly gruesome, they seemed to be pulps of human beings. Miraculously, said the News, they were both still alive though they would both be in the hospital for months and would require plastic surgery. Hagen made a note to tell Clemenza that something should be done for Paulie Gatto. He seemed to know his job.

8 Hagen worked quickly and efficiently for the next three hours consolidating earning reports from the Don's real estate company, his olive oil importing business and his construction firm. None of them were doing well but with the war over they should all become rich producers. He had almost forgotten the Johnny Fontane problem when his secretary told him California was calling. He felt a little thrill of anticipation as he picked up the phone and said, "Hagen here."

9 The voice that came over the phone was unrecognizable with hate and passion. "You fucking bastard," Woltz screamed. "I'll have you all in jail for a hundred years. I'll spend every penny I have to get you. I'll get that Johnny Fontane's balls cut off, do you hear me, you guinea fuck?"

10 Hagen said kindly, "I'm German-Irish." There was a long pause and then a click of the phone being hung up. Hagen smiled. Not once had Woltz uttered a threat against Don Corleone himself. Genius had its rewards.

1 Jack Woltz always slept alone. He had a bed big enough for ten people and a bedroom large enough for a movie ballroom scene, but he had slept alone since the death of his first wife ten years before. This did not mean he no longer used women. He was physically a vigorous man (крепкий; vigorous – сильный, энергичный ['vıg∂r∂s]) despite his age (несмотря на свой возраст), but he could be aroused (возбужден) now only by very young girls and had learned that a few hours in the evening were all the youth of his body and his patience could tolerate (это все, что молодость /то, что от нее осталось/ его тела и его терпение могли вынести; to tolerate – терпеть, сносить).

2 On this Thursday morning, for some reason, he awoke early. The light of dawn (рассвета) made his huge bedroom as misty as a foggy meadowland (в дымке и в тумане: «дымчатой и туманной», как низинные луга; meadow [‘med∂u] – луг, низина, пойменная земля). Far down at the foot of his bed was a familiar shape and Woltz struggled up on his elbows (с трудом приподнялся на локтях) to get a clearer look. It had the shape of a horse's head. Still groggy (еще не придя в себя; groggy – любящий пропустить рюмочку, хмельной; шаткий, непрочный), Woltz reached (протянул руку) and flicked on the night table lamp (включил; to flick – слегка ударить /быстрым, легким движением; щелкнуть/).

3 The shock of what he saw made him physically ill. It seemed as if a great sledgehammer (кувалда: sledge – сани; кувалда + hammer – молот) had struck him on the chest (ударила его в грудь), his heartbeat jumped erratically (неравномерно; erratic [ı'rætık] – переменчивый, непостоянный: «блуждающий») and he became nauseous (его начало тошнить; nauseous ['no:sj∂s] – тошнотворный; nausea ['no:sj∂] – тошнота). His vomit (рвота ['vomıt]) spluttered on the thick flair rug (расплескалась, разбрызгалась по его толстому, стильному, шикарному ковру; flair – чутье; вкус; стиль).

4 Severed from its body (отделенная, отрезанная: to sever [‘sev∂]), the black silky head of the great horse Khartoum was stuck fast (крепко сидела, торчала, увязла; to stick – втыкать, насаживать) in a thick cake of blood. White, reedy tendons showed (виднелись белые, жесткие сухожилия; reed – камыш, тростник). Froth covered the muzzle (пена покрывала морду) and those apple-sized eyes that had glinted like gold, were mottled (были покрыты крапинками, испещрены; mottle – крапинка, пятнышко) the color of rotting fruit (цвета гниющих плодов) with dead, hemorrhaged blood. Woltz was struck by a purely animal terror (поражен чисто животным ужасом, страхом) and out of that terror he screamed for his servants and out of that terror he called Hagen to make his uncontrolled threats. His maniacal raving (бред, несвязная речь; to rave – говорить несвязно, слишком возбужденно) alarmed the butler (встревожила дворецкого), who called Woltz's personal physician (врача) and his second in command at the studio (и его заместителя). But Woltz regained his senses (пришел в себя: «обрел снова, вернул чувства») before they arrived.

5 He had been profoundly (глубоко) shocked. What kind of man could destroy an animal (погубить: «разрушить») worth six hundred thousand dollars? Without a word of warning (предупреждения; to warn – предупреждать). Without any negotiation to have the act, its order, countermanded (не дав возможности, после переговоров, отменить, приостановить приказ). The ruthlessness (беспощадность; ruthless – безжалостный), the sheer disregard for any values (совершенное неуважение, непринятие во внимание каких-либо ценностей; sheer – абсолютный, полнейший), implied a man (предполагало, подразумевало; to imply) who considered himself completely his own law, even his own God. And a man who backed up (подкреплял, обеспечивал выполнение; to back up – поддерживать: «подпирать») this kind of will with the power and cunning (хитростью, коварством) that held his own stable security force of no account («считали за ничто его охрану» = перед которыми охрана его конюшен была просто ничто). For by this time Woltz had learned that the horse's body had obviously been heavily drugged (напичкано снотворным) before someone leisurely hacked the huge triangular head off with an ax (спокойно, не спеша оттяпал треугольную голову топором; leisure [‘leG∂] – досуг; triangle [‘traıæŋgl] – треугольник). The men on night duty (которые были на ночном дежурстве) claimed (заявляли, утверждали) that they had heard nothing. To Woltz this seemed impossible. They could be made to talk (их можно заставить говорить). They had been bought off (были подкуплены, от них откупились; to buy off – откупаться) and they could be made to tell who had done the buying.

1 Jack Woltz always slept alone. He had a bed big enough for ten people and a bedroom large enough for a movie ballroom scene, but he had slept alone since the death of his first wife ten years before. This did not mean he no longer used women. He was physically a vigorous man despite his age, but he could be aroused now only by very young girls and had learned that a few hours in the evening were all the youth of his body and his patience could tolerate.

2 On this Thursday morning, for some reason, he awoke early. The light of dawn made his huge bedroom as misty as a foggy meadowland. Far down at the foot of his bed was a familiar shape and Woltz struggled up on his elbows to get a clearer look. It had the shape of a horse's head. Still groggy, Woltz reached and flicked on the night table lamp.

3 The shock of what he saw made him physically ill. It seemed as if a great sledgehammer had struck him on the chest, his heartbeat jumped erratically and he became nauseous. His vomit spluttered on the thick flair rug.

4 Severed from its body, the black silky head of the great horse Khartoum was stuck fast in a thick cake of blood. White, reedy tendons showed. Froth covered the muzzle and those apple-sized eyes that had glinted like gold, were mottled the color of rotting fruit with dead, hemorrhaged blood. Woltz was struck by a purely animal terror and out of that terror he screamed for his servants and out of that terror he called Hagen to make his uncontrolled threats. His maniacal raving alarmed the butler, who called Woltz's personal physician and his second in command at the studio. But Woltz regained his senses before they arrived.

5 He had been profoundly shocked. What kind of man could destroy an animal worth six hundred thousand dollars? Without a word of warning. Without any negotiation to have the act, its order, countermanded. The ruthlessness, the sheer disregard for any values, implied a man who considered himself completely his own law, even his own God. And a man who backed up this kind of will with the power and cunning that held his own stable security force of no account. For by this time Woltz had learned that the horse's body had obviously been heavily drugged before someone leisurely hacked the huge triangular head off with an ax. The men on night duty claimed that they had heard nothing. To Woltz this seemed impossible. They could be made to talk. They had been bought off and they could be made to tell who had done the buying.

1 Woltz was not a stupid man, he was merely a supremely egotistical one (только крайне: «в высшей степени» эгоистичный; supreme [sju'pri:m] – высший, высочайший). He had mistaken the power he wielded in his world to be more potent than the power of Don Corleone. He had merely needed some proof (доказательство) that this was not true. He understood this message. That despite all his wealth, despite all his contacts with the President of the United States, despite all his claims of friendship with the director of the FBI, an obscure importer of Italian olive oil (obscure [∂b’skju∂] – темный, тусклый, плохо освещенный; незаметный, никому не известный) would have him killed (мог бы его убить). Would actually have him killed! Because he wouldn't give Johnny Fontane a movie part he wanted. It was incredible. People didn't have any right to act that way. There couldn't be any kind of world if people acted that way. It was insane (безумно, абсурдно [ın'seın]). It meant you couldn't do what you wanted with your own money, with the companies you owned, the power you had to give orders. It was ten times worse than communism. It had to be smashed (это должно бы быть сокрушено). It must never be allowed (это никогда, вовсе не должно быть позволено).

2 Woltz let the doctor give him a very mild sedation (легкое успокоительное; mild [maıld] – мягкий, спокойный; неострый, некрепкий). It helped him calm down again (успокоиться) and to think sensibly (разумно). What really shocked him was the casualness (легкость /поступка/; casually – ненароком, мимоходом) with which this man Corleone had ordered the destruction of a world-famous horse worth six hundred thousand dollars. Six hundred thousand dollars! And that was just for openers (только начало; opener – начальное событие /в серии событий/; for openers – для начала). Woltz shuddered (содрогнулся). He thought of this life he had built up. He was rich. He could have the most beautiful women in the world by crooking his finger (поманив пальцем: «согнув палец») and promising a contract. He was received by kings and queens. He lived a life as perfect as money and power could make it. It was crazy to risk all this because of a whim (из-за каприза). Maybe he could get to Corleone. What was the legal penalty for killing a race-horse? He laughed wildly and his doctor and servants watched him with nervous anxiety (с беспокойством, тревогой [æŋg’zaı∂tı]). Another thought occurred to him (пришла: «случилась» ему в голову). He would be the laughingstock (посмешищем) of California merely because someone had contemptuously defied his power (презрительно бросил вызов его власти; to defy [dı’faı] – вызывать, бросать вызов) in such arrogant fashion (таким высокомерным, наглым образом). That decided him (это решило дело, заставило его принять решение). That and the thought that maybe, maybe they wouldn't kill him. That they had something much more clever and painful in reserve (хитрое и болезненное в запасе).

3 Woltz gave the necessary orders. His personal confidential staff swung into action (его личная доверенная команда бросилась выполнять). The servants and the doctor were sworn to secrecy (поклялись хранить тайну, принесли присягу о соблюдении секретности) on pain of incurring the studio's and Woltz's undying enmity (под угрозой навлечения на себя вечной вражды; to incur [ın’k∂:] – подвергаться, навлекать на себя). Word was given to the press that the racehorse Khartoum had died of an illness contracted during his shipment from England (от болезни, полученной при его переправке). Orders were given to bury the remains (захоронить останки) in a secret place on the estate (на территории имения).

4 Six hours later Johnny Fontane received a phone call from the executive producer (от исполнительного директора) of the film telling him to report for work (явиться на работу; to report – сообщать; докладывать; являться, представать) the following Monday.

1 Woltz was not a stupid man, he was merely a supremely egotistical one. He had mistaken the power he wielded in his world to be more potent than the power of Don Corleone. He had merely needed some proof that this was not true. He understood this message. That despite all his wealth, despite all his contacts with the President of the United States, despite all his claims of friendship with the director of the FBI, an obscure importer of Italian olive oil would have him killed. Would actually have him killed! Because he wouldn't give Johnny Fontane a movie part he wanted. It was incredible. People didn't have any right to act that way. There couldn't be any kind of world if people acted that way. It was insane. It meant you couldn't do what you wanted with your own money, with the companies you owned, the power you had to give orders. It was ten times worse than communism. It had to be smashed. It must never be allowed.

2 Woltz let the doctor give him a very mild sedation. It helped him calm down again and to think sensibly. What really shocked him was the casualness with which this man Corleone had ordered the destruction of a world-famous horse worth six hundred thousand dollars. Six hundred thousand dollars! And that was just for openers. Woltz shuddered. He thought of this life he had built up. He was rich. He could have the most beautiful women in the world by crooking his finger and promising a contract. He was received by kings and queens. He lived a life as perfect as money and power could make it. It was crazy to risk all this because of a whim. Maybe he could get to Corleone. What was the legal penalty for killing a race-horse? He laughed wildly and his doctor and servants watched him with nervous anxiety. Another thought occurred to him. He would be the laughingstock of California merely because someone had contemptuously defied his power in such arrogant fashion. That decided him. That and the thought that maybe, maybe they wouldn't kill him. That they had something much more clever and painful in reserve.

3 Woltz gave the necessary orders. His personal confidential staff swung into action. The servants and the doctor were sworn to secrecy on pain of incurring the studio's and Woltz's undying enmity. Word was given to the press that the racehorse Khartoum had died of an illness contracted during his shipment from England. Orders were given to bury the remains in a secret place on the estate.

4 Six hours later Johnny Fontane received a phone call from the executive producer of the film telling him to report for work the following Monday.

1 That evening, Hagen went to the Don's house to prepare him for the important meeting the next day with Virgil Sollozzo. The Don had summoned his eldest son to attend (вызвал присутствовать; to summon [‘sLm∂n] – вызывать, созывать; to attend [∂‘tend] – уделять внимание; посещать, присутствовать), and Sonny Corleone, his heavy Cupid-shaped face drawn with fatigue (вытянутое от усталости, с печатью усталости), was sipping at a glass of water. He must still be humping that maid of honor (должно быть, все еще трахает; hump – бугорок, кочка; горб; горбиться; вкалывать, напрягаться; /вульг./ совокупляться), Hagen thought. Another worry (еще одна забота, еще одно беспокойство).

2 Don Corleone settled into an armchair puffing his Di Nobili cigar. Hagen kept a box of them in his room. He had tried to get the Don to switch to Havanas (переключиться) but the Don claimed they hurt his throat.

3 "Do we know everything necessary for us to know?" the Don asked.

4 Hagen opened the folder (папку; to fold – складывать) that held his notes. The notes were in no way incriminating (записи были ни в коей мере не «изобличительные, инкриминирующие» = вполне безопасные, конспиративные), merely cryptic reminders (всего лишь таинственные, секретные пометки; reminder – напоминание) to make sure he touched on every important detail. "Sollozzo is coming to us for help," Hagen said. "He will ask the family to put up at least a million dollars (вложить; to put up – выставить /на продажу/; вложить /деньги/) and to promise some sort of immunity from the law (обещать что-то вроде неприкосновенности со стороны закона; immunity [ı'mju:nıtı] – неприкосновенность; иммунитет). For that we get a piece of the action (долю), nobody knows how much. Sollozzo is vouched for by the Tattaglia family (за него поручилась; to vouch – ручаться) and they may have a piece of the action. The action is narcotics. Sollozzo has the contacts in Turkey, where they grow the poppy (мак). From there he ships to Sicily. No trouble. In Sicily he has the plant to process into heroin (фабрика для переработки; plant [plα:nt] – фабрика, завод; to process [‘pr∂uses] – перерабатывать). He has safety-valve operations (safety-valve – предохранительный клапан, отдушина) to bring it down to morphine and bring it up to heroin if necessary (суть которых /операций для безопасности/ в том, что можно переработать это в морфий, а затем обратно в героин, если необходимо, если понадобится). But it would seem that the processing plant in Sicily is protected in every way. The only hitch (задержка, заминка, неполадка = загвоздка) is bringing it into this country, and then distribution (распределение, распространение). Also initial capital (а также начальный капитал). A million dollars cash doesn't grow on trees." Hagen saw Don Corleone grimace (как его лицо исказилось гримасой /недовольства/ [grı'meıs]). The old man hated unnecessary flourishes in business matters (излишние прикрасы; flourish [‘flLrı∫] – цветение /плодового дерева/; завитушки, цветистые выражения). He went on hastily (продолжил поспешно).

5 "They call Sollozzo the Turk. Two reasons. He's spent a lot of time in Turkey and is supposed to have a Turkish wife and kids (предполагается, что у него есть = кажется, у него). Second. He's supposed to be very quick with the knife, or was, when he was young. Only in matters of business, though, and with some sort of reasonable complaint (и только при наличии какой-либо весомой причины для недовольства; complaint [k∂mp’leınt] – жалоба, неудовлетворенность). A very competent man and his own boss. He has a record, he's done two terms in prison (два срока), one in Italy, one in the United States, and he's known to the authorities (властям) as a narcotics man. This could be a plus for us. It means that he'll never get immunity to testify (он не будет иметь права свидетельствовать, давать показания /против нас/), since he's considered the top and, of course, because of his record. Also he has an American wife and three children and he is a good family man. He'll stand still (стоять на месте) for any rap (легкий удар, стук; /сленг/ наказание, обвинение, приговор) = (его не поколеблет никакой приговор) as long as he knows that they will be well taken care of for living money (пока будет знать, что о них позаботятся и у них всегда будут деньги на жизнь)."

1 That evening, Hagen went to the Don's house to prepare him for the important meeting the next day with Virgil Sollozzo. The Don had summoned his eldest son to attend, and Sonny Corleone, his heavy Cupid-shaped face drawn with fatigue, was sipping at a glass of water. He must still be humping that maid of honor, Hagen thought. Another worry.

2 Don Corleone settled into an armchair puffing his Di Nobili cigar. Hagen kept a box of them in his room. He had tried to get the Don to switch to Havanas but the Don claimed they hurt his throat.

3 "Do we know everything necessary for us to know?" the Don asked.

4 Hagen opened the folder that held his notes. The notes were in no way incriminating, merely cryptic reminders to make sure he touched on every important detail. "Sollozzo is coming to us for help," Hagen said. "He will ask the family to put up at least a million dollars and to promise some sort of immunity from the law. For that we get a piece of the action, nobody knows how much. Sollozzo is vouched for by the Tattaglia family and they may have a piece of the action. The action is narcotics. Sollozzo has the contacts in Turkey, where they grow the poppy. From there he ships to Sicily. No trouble. In Sicily he has the plant to process into heroin. He has safety-valve operations to bring it down to morphine and bring it up to heroin if necessary. But it would seem that the processing plant in Sicily is protected in every way. The only hitch is bringing it into this country, and then distribution. Also initial capital. A million dollars cash doesn't grow on trees." Hagen saw Don Corleone grimace. The old man hated unnecessary flourishes in business matters. He went on hastily.

5 "They call Sollozzo the Turk. Two reasons. He's spent a lot of time in Turkey and is supposed to have a Turkish wife and kids. Second. He's supposed to be very quick with the knife, or was, when he was young. Only in matters of business, though, and with some sort of reasonable complaint. A very competent man and his own boss. He has a record, he's done two terms in prison, one in Italy, one in the United States, and he's known to the authorities as a narcotics man. This could be a plus for us. It means that he'll never get immunity to testify, since he's considered the top and, of course, because of his record. Also he has an American wife and three children and he is a good family man. He'll stand still for any rap as long as he knows that they will be well taken care of for living money."

1 The Don puffed on his cigar and said, "Santino, what do you think?"

2 Hagen knew what Sonny would say. Sonny was chafing (сердился, раздражался; chafe – ссадина; гнев, досада) at being under the Don's thumb (что он все время находится под опекой: «под большим пальцем Дона» [θLm]). He wanted a big operation of his own. Something like this would be perfect.

3 Sonny took a long slug of scotch (глоток /спиртного – сленг/). "There's a lot of money in that white powder (в этом белом порошке)," he said. "But it could be dangerous (опасно; danger ['deındG∂] – опасность). Some people could wind up in jail for twenty years. I'd say that if we kept out of the operations end, just stuck to protection and financing (если ограничимся), it might be a good idea."

4 Hagen looked at Sonny approvingly (одобрительно). He had played his cards well. He had stuck to the obvious (держался очевидного), much the best course for him.

5 The Don puffed on his cigar. "And you, Tom, what do you think?"

6 Hagen composed himself to be absolutely honest. He had already come to the conclusion (к заключению) that the Don would refuse Sollozzo's proposition (отвергнет предложение). But what was worse, Hagen was convinced (убежден; to convince [k∂n’vıns] – убеждать) that for one of the few times in his experience, the Don had not thought things through (не продумал /как следует/). He was not looking far enough ahead.

7 "Go ahead (давай, начинай, вперед), Tom," the Don said encouragingly (подбадривающе; encourage [ın’kLrıdG] – ободрять, поддерживать). "Not even a Sicilian Consigliori always agrees with the boss." They all laughed.

8 "I think you should say yes," Hagen said. "You know all the obvious reasons. But the most important one is this. There is more money potential in narcotics than in any other business. If we don't get into it, somebody else will, maybe the Tattaglia family. With the revenue (с доходом, выручкой ['revınju:]) they earn they can amass (собрать, скопить [∂‘mæs]) more and more police and political power. Their family will become stronger than ours. Eventually (в конце концов) they will come after us to take away what we have. It's just like countries. If they arm (вооружаются), we have to arm. If they become stronger economically, they become a threat to us (угрозой). Now we have the gambling and we have the unions and right now they are the best things to have. But I think narcotics is the coming thing («грядущая вещь» = в этом будущее, это самая перспективная вещь). I think we have to have a piece of that action or we risk everything we have. Not now, but maybe ten years from now.

9 The Don seemed enormously impressed. He puffed on his cigar and murmured, "That's the most important thing of course." He sighed and got to his feet. "What time do I have to meet this infidel tomorrow (этого неверного = турка, мусульманина; infidel [‘ınfıd∂l])?"

10 Hagen said hopefully, "He'll be here at ten in the morning." Maybe the Don would go for it (пойдет на это).

11 "I'll want you both here with me," the Don said. He rose, stretching (потянувшись), and took his son by the arm. "Santino, get some sleep tonight, you look like the devil himself. Take care of yourself, you won't be young forever (вечно)."

12 Sonny, encouraged by this sign of fatherly concern (заботы [k∂n's∂:n]), asked the question Hagen did not dare to ask (не осмелился). "Pop, what's your answer going to be?"

13 Don Corleone smiled. "How do I know until I hear the percentages (о процентах; percentage [p∂'sentıdG] – процент, процентное отчисление, доля) and other details? Besides I have to have time to think over the advice given here tonight (о данном здесь сегодня вечером совете). After all, I'm not a man who does things rashly (поспешно)." As he went out the door he said casually to Hagen, "Do you have in your notes that the Turk made his living from prostitution before the war? As the Tattaglia family does now. Write that down before you forget." There was just a touch of derision (маленький оттенок насмешки [dı’rıG∂n]) in the Don's voice and Hagen flushed (покраснел, залился краской; to flush – забить струей, хлынуть; прилить /о крови/). He had deliberately not mentioned it (сознательно, нарочно не упомянул; to deliberate [dı’lıb∂rıt] – /глубоко/ обдумывать, размышлять), legitimately so since it really had no bearing (законно, потому что это не относилось к делу, не имело основания; bearing – ношение; опора; отношение; смысл), but he had feared it might prejudice the Don's decision (/негативно/ повлиять на решение; to prejudice [‘predGudıs] – предубеждать, создавать предвзятое мнение, настраивать против). He was notoriously straitlaced in matters of sex (было известно насколько он щепетилен: «туго стянут, зашнурован» в вопросах пола).

1 The Don puffed on his cigar and said, "Santino, what do you think?"

2 Hagen knew what Sonny would say. Sonny was chafing at being under the Don's thumb. He wanted a big operation of his own. Something like this would be perfect.

3 Sonny took a long slug of scotch. "There's a lot of money in that white powder," he said. "But it could be dangerous. Some people could wind up in jail for twenty years. I'd say that if we kept out of the operations end, just stuck to protection and financing, it might be a good idea."

4 Hagen looked at Sonny approvingly. He had played his cards well. He had stuck to the obvious, much the best course for him.

5 The Don puffed on his cigar. "And you, Tom, what do you think?"

6 Hagen composed himself to be absolutely honest. He had already come to the conclusion that the Don would refuse Sollozzo's proposition. But what was worse, Hagen was convinced that for one of the few times in his experience, the Don had not thought things through. He was not looking far enough ahead.

7 "Go ahead, Tom," the Don said encouragingly. "Not even a Sicilian Consigliori always agrees with the boss." They all laughed.

8 "I think you should say yes," Hagen said. "You know all the obvious reasons. But the most important one is this. There is more money potential in narcotics than in any other business. If we don't get into it, somebody else will, maybe the Tattaglia family. With the revenue they earn they can amass more and more police and political power. Their family will become stronger than ours. Eventually they will come after us to take away what we have. It's just like countries. If they arm, we have to arm. If they become stronger economically, they become a threat to us. Now we have the gambling and we have the unions and right now they are the best things to have. But I think narcotics is the coming thing. I think we have to have a piece of that action or we risk everything we have. Not now, but maybe ten years from now.

9 The Don seemed enormously impressed. He puffed on his cigar and murmured, "That's the most important thing of course." He sighed and got to his feet. "What time do I have to meet this infidel tomorrow?"

10 Hagen said hopefully, "He'll be here at ten in the morning." Maybe the Don would go for it.

11 "I'll want you both here with me," the Don said. He rose, stretching, and took his son by the arm. "Santino, get some sleep tonight, you look like the devil himself. Take care of yourself, you won't be young forever."

12 Sonny, encouraged by this sign of fatherly concern, asked the question Hagen did not dare to ask. "Pop, what's your answer going to be?"

13 Don Corleone smiled. "How do I know until I hear the percentages and other details? Besides I have to have time to think over the advice given here tonight. After all, I'm not a man who does things rashly." As he went out the door he said casually to Hagen, "Do you have in your notes that the Turk made his living from prostitution before the war? As the Tattaglia family does now. Write that down before you forget." There was just a touch of derision in the Don's voice and Hagen flushed. He had deliberately not mentioned it, legitimately so since it really had no bearing, but he had feared it might prejudice the Don's decision. He was notoriously straitlaced in matters of sex.

1 Virgil "the Turk" Sollozzo was a powerfully built, medium-sized man (среднего роста) of dark complexion (с темным цветом лица) who could have been taken for a true Turk. He had a scimitar of a nose (/изогнутый/ нос, напоминающий турецкую саблю; scimitar [‘sımıt∂] – кривая турецкая сабля) and cruel (жестокие) black eyes. He also had an impressive dignity (внушительное чувство собственного достоинства, важность).

2 Sonny Corleone met him at the door and brought him into the office where Hagen and the Don waited. Hagen thought he had never seen a more dangerous-looking man except for Luca Brasi.

3 There were polite handshakings all around. If the Don ever asks me if this man has balls, I would have to answer yes, Hagen thought. He had never seen such force in one man, not even the Don. In fact the Don appeared at his worst (в худшей своей форме, был не в форме). He was being a little too simple, a little too peasantlike (по-крестьянски, деревенский) in his greeting.

4 Sollozzo came to the point immediately (сразу перешел к сути). The business was narcotics. Everything was set up (подготовлено). Certain poppy fields in Turkey had pledged him (обещали, заверили = гарантировали) certain amounts (определенные количества; amount [∂‘maunt]) every year. He had a protected plant in France to convert into morphine. He had an absolutely secure plant in Sicily to process into heroin. Smuggling (провоз контрабанды; to smuggle – провозить контрабанду) into both countries was as positively safe as such matters could be (настолько безопасен, насколько такие вещи могут быть /безопасны/). Entry into the United States (ввоз; еntry [‘entrı] – вход, въезд) would entail (повлечет за собой [ın'teıl]) about five percent losses since the FBI itself was incorruptible (неподкупно [ınk∂'rypt∂bl]), as they both knew. But the profits would be enormous (но выгоды, доходы будут огромными), the risk nonexistent («несуществующим» = а риска никакого).

5 "Then why do you come to me?" the Don asked politely. "How have I deserved your generosity (чем я заслужил вашу щедрость, великодушие [dGen∂'rosıtı])?"

6 Sollozzo's dark face remained impassive («осталось бесстрастным»). "I need two million dollars cash," he said. "Equally important (и что не менее: «одинаково» важно), I need a man who has powerful friends in the important places. Some of my couriers (некоторые из моих курьеров /с контрабандным товаром/ ['kurı∂]) will be caught over the years (будут пойманы с течением времени). That is inevitable (неизбежно [ın'evıt∂bl]). They will all have clean records (у них не будет судимостей), that I promise. So it will be logical for judges to give light sentences (легкие приговоры). I need a friend who can guarantee that when my people get in trouble they won't spend more than a year or two in jail. Then they won't talk. But if they get ten and twenty years, who knows? In this world there are many weak individuals. They may talk, they may jeopardize more important people (подвергнуть опасности, поставить в рискованное положение ['dGep∂daız]). Legal protection is a must (/абсолютная/ необходимость). I hear, Don Corleone, that you have as many judges in your pocket as a bootblack (чистильщик сапог) has pieces of silver."

7 Don Corleone didn't bother to acknowledge the compliment (не подумал: «не побеспокоился» показать, что ему приятен комплимент: «признать комплимент»). "What percentage for my family?" he asked.

8 Sollozzo's eyes gleamed. "Fifty percent." He paused and then said in a voice that was almost a caress (ласка), "In the first year your share (доля) would be three or four million dollars. Then it would go up."

9 Don Corleone said, "And what is the percentage of the Tattaglia family?"

10 For the first time Sollozzo seemed to be nervous. "They will receive something from my share. I need some help in the operations."

11 "So," Don Corleone said, "I receive fifty percent merely for finance and legal protection. I have no worries about operations, is that what you tell me?"

12 Sollozzo nodded. "If you think two million dollars in cash is 'merely finance,' I congratulate you, Don Corleone (поздравляю)."

1 Virgil "the Turk" Sollozzo was a powerfully built, medium-sized man of dark complexion who could have been taken for a true Turk. He had a scimitar of a nose and cruel black eyes. He also had an impressive dignity.

2 Sonny Corleone met him at the door and brought him into the office where Hagen and the Don waited. Hagen thought he had never seen a more dangerous-looking man except for Luca Brasi.

3 There were polite handshakings all around. If the Don ever asks me if this man has balls, I would have to answer yes, Hagen thought. He had never seen such force in one man, not even the Don. In fact the Don appeared at his worst. He was being a little too simple, a little too peasantlike in his greeting.

4 Sollozzo came to the point immediately. The business was narcotics. Everything was set up. Certain poppy fields in Turkey had pledged him certain amounts every year. He had a protected plant in France to convert into morphine. He had an absolutely secure plant in Sicily to process into heroin. Smuggling into both countries was as positively safe as such matters could be. Entry into the United States would entail about five percent losses since the FBI itself was incorruptible, as they both knew. But the profits would be enormous, the risk nonexistent.

5 "Then why do you come to me?" the Don asked politely. "How have I deserved your generosity?"

6 Sollozzo's dark face remained impassive. "I need two million dollars cash," he said. "Equally important, I need a man who has powerful friends in the important places. Some of my couriers will be caught over the years. That is inevitable. They will all have clean records, that I promise. So it will be logical for judges to give light sentences. I need a friend who can guarantee that when my people get in trouble they won't spend more than a year or two in jail. Then they won't talk. But if they get ten and twenty years, who knows? In this world there are many weak individuals. They may talk, they may jeopardize more important people. Legal protection is a must. I hear, Don Corleone, that you have as many judges in your pocket as a bootblack has pieces of silver."

7 Don Corleone didn't bother to acknowledge the compliment. "What percentage for my family?" he asked.

8 Sollozzo's eyes gleamed. "Fifty percent." He paused and then said in a voice that was almost a caress, "In the first year your share would be three or four million dollars. Then it would go up."

9 Don Corleone said, "And what is the percentage of the Tattaglia family?"

10 For the first time Sollozzo seemed to be nervous. "They will receive something from my share. I need some help in the operations."

11 "So," Don Corleone said, "I receive fifty percent merely for finance and legal protection. I have no worries about operations, is that what you tell me?"

12 Sollozzo nodded. "If you think two million dollars in cash is 'merely finance,' I congratulate you, Don Corleone."

The Don said quietly, "I consented to see you (согласился) out of my respect for the Tattaglias and because I've heard you are a serious man to be treated also with respect (с которым надо обращаться также уважительно). I must say no to you but I must give you my reasons (причины, доводы). The profits in your business are huge but so are the risks. Your operation, if I were part of it, could damage my other interests (повредить, нанести ущерб ['dæmıdG]). It's true I have many, many friends in politics, but they would not be so friendly if my business were narcotics instead of gambling. They think gambling is something like liquor, a harmless vice (безобидный порок), and they think narcotics a dirty business. No, don't protest. I'm telling you their thoughts, not mine. How a man makes his living is not my concern (не моя забота). And what I am telling you is that this business of yours is too risky. All the members of my family have lived well the last ten years, without danger, without harm. I can't endanger them (подвергнуть опасности) or their livelihoods (средства к жизни, заработки ['laıvlıhud]) out of greed (из жадности, алчности)."

The only sign of Sollozzo's disappointment (разочарования) was a quick flickering of his eyes (быстрое движение = стрельнул глазами; to flicker – мигать; мелькнуть) around the room, as if he hoped Hagen or Sonny would speak in his support (в его поддержку). Then he said, "Are you worried about security for your two million (волнуетесь за сохранность)?"

The Don smiled coldly. "No," he said.

Sollozzo tried again. "The Tattaglia family will guarantee your investment also."

It was then that Sonny Corleone made an unforgivable error (непростительную ошибку) in judgment and procedure (в суждении и в ходе дела, в процедуре [pr∂’si:dG∂]). He said eagerly («рьяно, оживленно, жадно»; eager – страстно желающий /о человеке/; интенсивный, напряженный /о взгляде, жесте/), "The Tattaglia family guarantees the return of our investment (возвращение нашего вклада) without any percentage from us?"

Hagen was horrified at this break (был в ужасе от этого нарушения). He saw the Don turn cold, malevolent eyes (злобные: «недоброжелательные» [m∂’lev∂l∂nt]) on his eldest son, who froze (застыл: «замерз, оледенел»; to freeze) in uncomprehending dismay (в непонимающем испуге, смятении [dıs'meı]). Sollozzo's eyes flickered again but this time with satisfaction (с удовлетворением). He had discovered a chink in the Don's fortress (обнаружил трещинку, разлом = брешь в крепости). When the Don spoke his voice held a dismissal (по его голосу было понятно, что разговор окончен; dismissal [dıs’mıs∂l] – увольнение, отпуск, роспуск). "Young people are greedy (жадные, алчные)," he said. "And today they have no manners. They interrupt their elders (обрывают, перебивают старших). They meddle (вмешиваются). But I have a sentimental weakness for my children and I have spoiled them (избаловал). As you see. Signor Sollozzo, my no is final (окончательное). Let me say that I myself wish you good fortune in your business. It has no conflict with my own. I'm sorry that I had to disappoint you (что пришлось разочаровать)."

Sollozzo bowed (поклонился), shook the Don's hand and let Hagen take him to his car outside. There was no expression on his face when he said good-bye to Hagen.

Back in the room, Don Corleone asked Hagen, "What did you think of that man?"

"He's a Sicilian," Hagen said dryly.

The Don nodded his head thoughtfully. Then he turned to his son and said gently, "Santino, never let anyone outside the family know what you are thinking. Never let them know what you have under your fingernails (под ногтями). I think your brain is going soft (размягчился) from all that comedy you play with that young girl. Stop it and pay attention to business. Now get out of my sight (уйди с глаз долой)."

Hagen saw the surprise on Sonny's face, then anger at his father's reproach (упрек). Did he really think the Don would be ignorant of his conquest (не знает о его победе, завоевании ['koŋkwest]), Hagen wondered. And did he really not know what a dangerous mistake he had made this morning? If that were true, Hagen would never wish to be the Consigliori to the Don of Santino Corleone.

Don Corleone waited until Sonny had left the room. Then he sank back into his leather armchair and motioned brusquely for a drink (резким движением; brusque [brusk] – отрывистый, резкий). Hagen poured him a glass of anisette (налил анисового ликера; to pour [po:]). The Don looked up at him. "Send Luca Brasi to see me," he said.

The Don said quietly, "I consented to see you out of my respect for the Tattaglias and because I've heard you are a serious man to be treated also with respect. I must say no to you but I must give you my reasons. The profits in your business are huge but so are the risks. Your operation, if I were part of it, could damage my other interests. It's true I have many, many friends in politics, but they would not be so friendly if my business were narcotics instead of gambling. They think gambling is something like liquor, a harmless vice, and they think narcotics a dirty business. No, don't protest. I'm telling you their thoughts, not mine. How a man makes his living is not my concern. And what I am telling you is that this business of yours is too risky. All the members of my family have lived well the last ten years, without danger, without harm. I can't endanger them or their livelihoods out of greed."

The only sign of Sollozzo's disappointment was a quick flickering of his eyes around the room, as if he hoped Hagen or Sonny would speak in his support. Then he said, "Are you worried about security for your two million?"

The Don smiled coldly. "No," he said.

Sollozzo tried again. "The Tattaglia family will guarantee your investment also."

It was then that Sonny Corleone made an unforgivable error in judgment and procedure. He said eagerly, "The Tattaglia family guarantees the return of our investment without any percentage from us?"

Hagen was horrified at this break. He saw the Don turn cold, malevolent eyes on his eldest son, who froze in uncomprehending dismay. Sollozzo's eyes flickered again but this time with satisfaction. He had discovered a chink in the Don's fortress. When the Don spoke his voice held a dismissal. "Young people are greedy," he said. "And today they have no manners. They interrupt their elders. They meddle. But I have a sentimental weakness for my children and I have spoiled them. As you see. Signor Sollozzo, my no is final. Let me say that I myself wish you good fortune in your business. It has no conflict with my own. I'm sorry that I had to disappoint you."

Sollozzo bowed, shook the Don's hand and let Hagen take him to his car outside. There was no expression on his face when he said good-bye to Hagen.

Back in the room, Don Corleone asked Hagen, "What did you think of that man?"

"He's a Sicilian," Hagen said dryly.

The Don nodded his head thoughtfully. Then he turned to his son and said gently, "Santino, never let anyone outside the family know what you are thinking. Never let them know what you have under your fingernails. I think your brain is going soft from all that comedy you play with that young girl. Stop it and pay attention to business. Now get out of my sight."

Hagen saw the surprise on Sonny's face, then anger at his father's reproach. Did he really think the Don would be ignorant of his conquest, Hagen wondered. And did he really not know what a dangerous mistake he had made this morning? If that were true, Hagen would never wish to be the Consigliori to the Don of Santino Corleone.

Don Corleone waited until Sonny had left the room. Then he sank back into his leather armchair and motioned brusquely for a drink. Hagen poured him a glass of anisette. The Don looked up at him. "Send Luca Brasi to see me," he said.

Three months later, Hagen hurried through the paper work in his city office hoping to leave early enough for some Christmas shopping for his wife and children (для Рождественских покупок). He was interrupted by a phone call from a Johnny Fontane bubbling with high spirits («пузырящегося хорошим настроением»; bubble – пузырек). The picture had been shot (снята), the rushes (первые отснятые эпизоды для показа), whatever the hell they were (как будто я знаю, что это такое), Hagen thought, were fabulous (сказочны ['fæbjul∂s]). He was sending the Don a present for Christmas that would knock his eyes out («выбьет его глаза» = поразит его), he'd bring it himself but there were some little things to be done in the movie. He would have to stay out on the Coast. Hagen tried to conceal his impatience (скрыть нетерпение = раздражение [ım'peı∫∂ns]). Johnny Fontane's charm had always been lost on him (был потерян на нем = он не был подвержен шарму Джонни). But his interest was aroused (разбужен, пробудился). "What is it?" he asked. Johnny Fontane chuckled (хохотнул, издал горловой, как бы захлебывающийся, смешок) and said, "I can't tell, that's the best part of a Christmas present." Hagen immediately lost all interest and finally managed, politely, to hang up (и наконец ему удалось вежливо повесить трубку).

Ten minutes later his secretary told him that Connie Corleone was on the phone and wanted to speak to him. Hagen sighed. As a young girl Connie had been nice, as a married woman she was a nuisance (досада, неприятность; надоедливый человек, зануда ['nju:sns]). She made complaints about her husband (жаловалась). She kept going home to visit her mother for two or three days. And Carlo Rizzi was turning out to be a real loser (оказался: «оказывался» = становилось ясно, что он настоящий неудачник, олух: «проигрывающий»). He had been fixed up with a nice little business (ему устроили) and was running it into the ground (а он его разорял: «загонял в землю»). He was also drinking, whoring around (блядовал вовсю), gambling and beating his wife up (избивал; to beat up) occasionally (иногда, время от времени [∂'keıGn∂lı]; occasion [∂'keıG∂n] – случай, возможность). Connie hadn't told her family about that but she had told Hagen. He wondered what new tale of woe (горестное предание; woe [w∂u] – горе, скорбь /поэт./) she had for him now.

But the Christmas spirit (дух = настроение Рождества) seemed to have cheered her up (ободрил, развеселил). She just wanted to ask Hagen what her father would really like for Christmas. And Sonny and Fred and Mike. She already knew what she would get her mother. Hagen made some suggestions (предположений, советов; to suggest [s∂’dGest] – предлагать, советовать), all of which she rejected as silly (отвергла: «отбросила» как глупые). Finally she let him go (отстала от него: «отпустила его»).

When the phone rang again, Hagen threw his papers back into the basket (в корзину ['bα:skıt]). The hell with it. He'd leave. It never occurred to him to refuse to take the call, however (однако ему никогда не приходило в голову отказаться снять трубку). When his secretary told him it was Michael Corleone he picked up the phone with pleasure. He had always liked Mike.

"Tom," Michael Corleone said, "I'm driving down to the city with Kay tomorrow. There's something important I want to tell the old man before Christmas. Will he be home tomorrow night?"

"Sure," Hagen said. "He's not going out of town until after Christmas. Anything I can do for you?"

Michael was as closemouthed as his father (неразговорчив). "No," he said. "I guess I'll see you Christmas, everybody is going to be out at Long Beach, right?"

"Right," Hagen said. He was amused (удивлен и развеселен: «развлечен», его позабавило; to amuse [∂‘mju:z]) when Mike hung up on him without any small talk (безо всякого «светского разговора» = разговора ради любезности).

He told his secretary to call his wife and tell her he would be home a little late but to have some supper for him. Outside the building he walked briskly (живо, быстро) downtown (в центр; downtown – деловая часть города) toward Macy's (название торгового центра). Someone stepped in his way. To his surprise he saw it was Sollozzo.

Sollozzo took him by the arm and said quietly, "Don't be frightened (не пугайтесь). I just want to talk to you." A car parked at the curb (у бордюра, обочины) suddenly had its door open. Sollozzo said urgently (настойчиво; urgent [‘∂:dG∂nt] – срочный, неотложный, необходимый; настойчивый, добивающийся; to urge – подгонять, подстегивать), "Get in, I want to talk to you."

Hagen pulled his arm loose (выдернул, высвободил руку). He was still not alarmed (не встревожен), just irritated (просто раздражен, возмущен; to irritate [‘ırıteıt] – возмущать, сердить). "I haven't got time," he said. At that moment two men came up behind him. Hagen felt a sudden weakness in his legs. Sollozzo said softly, "Get in the car. If I wanted to kill you you'd be dead now. Trust me."

Without a shred of trust («без крупицы доверия»; shred – клочок, кусочек) Hagen got into the car.

Three months later, Hagen hurried through the paper work in his city office hoping to leave early enough for some Christmas shopping for his wife and children. He was interrupted by a phone call from a Johnny Fontane bubbling with high spirits. The picture had been shot, the rushes, whatever the hell they were, Hagen thought, were fabulous. He was sending the Don a present for Christmas that would knock his eyes out, he'd bring it himself but there were some little things to be done in the movie. He would have to stay out on the Coast. Hagen tried to conceal his impatience. Johnny Fontane's charm had always been lost on him. But his interest was aroused. "What is it?" he asked. Johnny Fontane chuckled and said, "I can't tell, that's the best part of a Christmas present." Hagen immediately lost all interest and finally managed, politely, to hang up.

Ten minutes later his secretary told him that Connie Corleone was on the phone and wanted to speak to him. Hagen sighed. As a young girl Connie had been nice, as a married woman she was a nuisance. She made complaints about her husband. She kept going home to visit her mother for two or three days. And Carlo Rizzi was turning out to be a real loser. He had been fixed up with a nice little business and was running it into the ground. He was also drinking, whoring around, gambling and beating his wife up occasionally. Connie hadn't told her family about that but she had told Hagen. He wondered what new tale of woe she had for him now.

But the Christmas spirit seemed to have cheered her up. She just wanted to ask Hagen what her father would really like for Christmas. And Sonny and Fred and Mike. She already knew what she would get her mother. Hagen made some suggestions, all of which she rejected as silly. Finally she let him go.

When the phone rang again, Hagen threw his papers back into the basket. The hell with it. He'd leave. It never occurred to him to refuse to take the call, however. When his secretary told him it was Michael Corleone he picked up the phone with pleasure. He had always liked Mike.

"Tom," Michael Corleone said, "I'm driving down to the city with Kay tomorrow. There's something important I want to tell the old man before Christmas. Will he be home tomorrow night?"

"Sure," Hagen said. "He's not going out of town until after Christmas. Anything I can do for you?"

Michael was as closemouthed as his father. "No," he said. "I guess I'll see you Christmas, everybody is going to be out at Long Beach, right?"

"Right," Hagen said. He was amused when Mike hung up on him without any small talk.

He told his secretary to call his wife and tell her he would be home a little late but to have some supper for him. Outside the building he walked briskly downtown toward Macy's. Someone stepped in his way. To his surprise he saw it was Sollozzo.

Sollozzo took him by the arm and said quietly, "Don't be frightened. I just want to talk to you." A car parked at the curb suddenly had its door open. Sollozzo said urgently, "Get in, I want to talk to you."

Hagen pulled his arm loose. He was still not alarmed, just irritated. "I haven't got time," he said. At that moment two men came up behind him. Hagen felt a sudden weakness in his legs. Sollozzo said softly, "Get in the car. If I wanted to kill you you'd be dead now. Trust me."

Without a shred of trust Hagen got into the car.

Michael Corleone had lied to Hagen. He was already in New York, and he had called from a room in the Hotel Pennsylvania less than ten blocks away. When he hung up the phone, Kay Adams put out her cigarette and said, "Mike, what a good fibber you are (враль, выдумщик)."

Michael sat down beside her on the bed. "All for you, honey; if I told my family we were in town we'd have to go there right away. Then we couldn't go out to dinner, we couldn't go to the theater, and we couldn't sleep together tonight. Not in my father's house, not when we're not married." He put his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips. Her mouth was sweet and he gently pulled her down on the bed. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to make love to her and Michael felt an enormous happiness. He had spent the war years fighting in the Pacific, and on those bloody islands (на этих окровавленных; проклятых островах) he had dreamed of a girl like Kay Adams. Of a beauty like hers. A fair (прекрасное; светлое) and fragile (хрупкое ['frædGaıl]) body, milky-skinned and electrified by passion. She opened her eyes and then pulled his head down to kiss him. They made love until it was time for dinner and the theater.

After dinner they walked past the brightly lit department stores full of holiday shoppers and Michael said to her, "What shall I get you for Christmas?"

She pressed against him. "Just you," she said. "Do you think your father will approve of me?"

Michael said gently, "That's not really the question. Will your parents approve of me?"

Kay shrugged. "I don't care," she said.

Michael said, "I even thought of changing my name, legally, but if something happened, that wouldn't really help. You sure you want to be a Corleone?" He said it only half-jokingly.

"Yes," she said without smiling. They pressed against each other. They had decided to get married during Christmas week, a quiet civil ceremony at City Hall with just two friends as witnesses. But Michael had insisted he must tell his father. He had explained that his father would not object in any way as long as it was not done in secrecy. Kay was doubtful. She said she could not tell her parents until after the marriage. "Of course they'll think I'm pregnant (беременна)," she said. Michael grinned. "So will my parents," he said.

What neither of them mentioned was the fact that Michael would have to cut his close ties (порвать близкие связи) with his family. They both understood that Michael had already done so to some extent (до определенной степени) and yet they both felt guilty (виноватыми) about this fact.

They planned to finish college, seeing each other weekends and living together during summer vacations. It seemed like a happy life.

The play was a musical called Carousel and its sentimental story of a braggart thief (braggart – хвастун, хвастливый ['bræg∂t]) made them smile at each other with amusement. When they came out of the theater it had turned cold. Kay snuggled up to him (прижалась) and said, "After we're married, will you beat me and then steal a star for a present?"

Michael laughed. "I'm going to be a mathematics professor," he said. Then he asked, "Do you want something to eat before we go to the hotel?"

Kay shook her head. She looked up at him meaningfully. As always he was touched by her eagerness to make love. He smiled down at her, and they kissed in the cold street. Michael felt hungry, and he decided to order sandwiches sent up to the room.

In the hotel lobby (большой коридор, холл) Michael pushed Kay toward the newsstand and said, "Get the papers while I get the key." He had to wait in a small line (в очереди); the hotel was still short of help despite the end of the war. Michael got his room key and looked around impatiently for Kay. She was standing by the newsstand, staring down at a newspaper she held in her hand. He walked toward her. She looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears. "Oh, Mike," she said, "oh, Mike." He took the paper from her hands. The first thing he saw was a photo of his father lying in the street, his head in a pool of blood (в луже крови). A man was sitting on the curb weeping like a child. It was his brother Freddie. Michael Corleone felt his body turning to ice. There was no grief, no fear, just cold rage. He said to Kay, "Go up to the room." But he had to take her by the arm and lead her into the elevator. They rode up together in silence. In their room, Michael sat down on the bed and opened the paper. The headlines said, VITO CORLEONE SHOT. ALLEGED (предполагаемый) RACKET CHIEF CRITICALLY WOUNDED. OPERATED ON UNDER HEAVY POLICE GUARD. BLOODY MOB WAR FEARED (опасность гангстерской войны; mob – толпа, чернь; банда).

Michael felt the weakness in his legs. He said to Kay, "He's not dead, the bastards didn't kill him." He read the story again. His father had been shot at five in the afternoon. That meant that while he had been making love to Kay, having dinner, enjoying the theater, his father was near death. Michael felt sick with guilt.

Kay said "Shall we go down to the hospital now?" Michael shook his head. "Let me call the house first. The people who did this are crazy and now that the old man's still alive they'll be desperate (в отчаянии, готовы на все /в своем безвыходном положении/ ['desp∂rıt]). Who the hell knows what they'll pull next (что они еще устроят, сделают; to pull – тянуть)."

Both phones in the Long Beach house were busy and it was almost twenty minutes before Michael could get through. He heard Sonny's voice saying, "Yeah."

"Sonny, it's me." Michael said.

He could hear the relief in Sonny's voice. "Jesus, kid, you had us worried. Where the hell are you? I've sent people to that hick town of yours (hick – захолустный) to see what happened."

"How's the old man?" Michael said. "How bad is he hurt?"

"Pretty bad," Sonny said. "They shot him five times. But he's tough. Sonny's voice was proud. "The doctors said he'll pull through. Listen, kid, I'm busy, I can't talk, where are you?"

"In New York," Michael said. "Didn't Tom tell you I was coming down?"

Sonny's voice dropped a little. "They've snatched Tom (сцапали, стащили). That's why I was worried about you. His wife is here. She don't know and neither do the cops. I don't want them to know. The bastards who pulled this must be crazy. I want you to get out here right away and keep your mouth shut. OK?"

"OK," Mike said, "do you know who did it?"

"Sure," Sonny said. "And as soon as Luca Brasi checks in (объявится; to check in – регистрироваться; отмечать приход на работу) they're gonna (= going to) be dead meat. We still have all the horses."

"I'll be out in a hour," Mike said. "In a cab." He hung up. The papers had been on the streets for over three hours. There must have been radio news reports. It was almost impossible that Luca hadn't heard the news. Thoughtfully Michael pondered the question (размышлял). Where was Luca Brasi? It was the same question that Hagen was asking himself at that moment. It was the same question that was worrying Sonny Corleone out in Long Beach.

Michael Corleone had lied to Hagen. He was already in New York, and he had called from a room in the Hotel Pennsylvania less than ten blocks away. When he hung up the phone, Kay Adams put out her cigarette and said, "Mike, what a good fibber you are."

Michael sat down beside her on the bed. "All for you, honey; if I told my family we were in town we'd have to go there right away. Then we couldn't go out to dinner, we couldn't go to the theater, and we couldn't sleep together tonight. Not in my father's house, not when we're not married." He put his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips. Her mouth was sweet and he gently pulled her down on the bed. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to make love to her and Michael felt an enormous happiness. He had spent the war years fighting in the Pacific, and on those bloody islands he had dreamed of a girl like Kay Adams. Of a beauty like hers. A fair and fragile body, milky-skinned and electrified by passion. She opened her eyes and then pulled his head down to kiss him. They made love until it was time for dinner and the theater.

After dinner they walked past the brightly lit department stores full of holiday shoppers and Michael said to her, "What shall I get you for Christmas?"

She pressed against him. "Just you," she said. "Do you think your father will approve of me?"

Michael said gently, "That's not really the question. Will your parents approve of me?"

Kay shrugged. "I don't care," she said.

Michael said, "I even thought of changing my name, legally, but if something happened, that wouldn't really help. You sure you want to be a Corleone?" He said it only half-jokingly.

"Yes," she said without smiling. They pressed against each other. They had decided to get married during Christmas week, a quiet civil ceremony at City Hall with just two friends as witnesses. But Michael had insisted he must tell his father. He had explained that his father would not object in any way as long as it was not done in secrecy. Kay was doubtful. She said she could not tell her parents until after the marriage. "Of course they'll think I'm pregnant," she said. Michael grinned. "So will my parents," he said.

What neither of them mentioned was the fact that Michael would have to cut his close ties with his family. They both understood that Michael had already done so to some extent and yet they both felt guilty about this fact.

They planned to finish college, seeing each other weekends and living together during summer vacations. It seemed like a happy life.

The play was a musical called Carousel and its sentimental story of a braggart thief made them smile at each other with amusement. When they came out of the theater it had turned cold. Kay snuggled up to him and said, "After we're married, will you beat me and then steal a star for a present?"

Michael laughed. "I'm going to be a mathematics professor," he said. Then he asked, "Do you want something to eat before we go to the hotel?"

Kay shook her head. She looked up at him meaningfully. As always he was touched by her eagerness to make love. He smiled down at her, and they kissed in the cold street. Michael felt hungry, and he decided to order sandwiches sent up to the room.

In the hotel lobby Michael pushed Kay toward the newsstand and said, "Get the papers while I get the key." He had to wait in a small line; the hotel was still short of help despite the end of the war. Michael got his room key and looked around impatiently for Kay. She was standing by the newsstand, staring down at a newspaper she held in her hand. He walked toward her. She looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears. "Oh, Mike," she said, "oh, Mike." He took the paper from her hands. The first thing he saw was a photo of his father lying in the street, his head in a pool of blood. A man was sitting on the curb weeping like a child. It was his brother Freddie. Michael Corleone felt his body turning to ice. There was no grief, no fear, just cold rage. He said to Kay, "Go up to the room." But he had to take her by the arm and lead her into the elevator. They rode up together in silence. In their room, Michael sat down on the bed and opened the paper. The headlines said, VITO CORLEONE SHOT. ALLEGED RACKET CHIEF CRITICALLY WOUNDED. OPERATED ON UNDER HEAVY POLICE GUARD. BLOODY MOB WAR FEARED.

Michael felt the weakness in his legs. He said to Kay, "He's not dead, the bastards didn't kill him." He read the story again. His father had heen shot at five in the afternoon. That meant that while he had been making love to Kay, having dinner, enjoying the theater, his father was near death. Michael felt sick with guilt.

Kay said "Shall we go down to the hospital now?" Michael shook his head. "Let me call the house first. The people who did this are crazy and now that the old man's still alive they'll be desperate. Who the hell knows what they'll pull next."

Both phones in the Long Beach house were busy and it was almost twenty minutes before Michael could get through. He heard Sonny's voice saying, "Yeah."

"Sonny, it's me." Michael said.

He could hear the relief in Sonny's voice. "Jesus, kid, you had us worried. Where the hell are you? I've sent people to that hick town of yours to see what happened."

"How's the old man?" Michael said. "How bad is he hurt?"

"Pretty bad," Sonny said. "They shot him five times. But he's tough. Sonny's voice was proud. "The doctors said he'll pull through. Listen, kid, I'm busy, I can't talk, where are you?"

"In New York," Michael said. "Didn't Tom tell you I was coming down?"

Sonny's voice dropped a little. "They've snatched Tom. That's why I was worried about you. His wife is here. She don't know and neither do the cops. I don't want them to know. The bastards who pulled this must be crazy. I want you to get out here right away and keep your mouth shut. OK?"

"OK," Mike said, "do you know who did it?"

"Sure," Sonny said. "And as soon as Luca Brasi checks in they're gonna be dead meat. We still have all the horses."

"I'll be out in a hour," Mike said. "In a cab." He hung up. The papers had been on the streets for over three hours. There must have been radio news reports. It was almost impossible that Luca hadn't heard the news. Thoughtfully Michael pondered the question. Where was Luca Brasi? It was the same question that Hagen was asking himself at that moment. It was the same question that was worrying Sonny Corleone out in Long Beach.

At a quarter to five that afternoon, Don Corleone had finished checking the papers the office manager of his olive oil company had prepared for him. He put on his jacket and rapped his knuckles (слегка постучал костяшками пальцев) on his son Freddie's head to make him take his nose out of the afternoon newspaper. "Tell Gatto to get the car from the lot (с автостоянки: parking lot)," he said. "I'll be ready to go home in a few minutes."

Freddie grunted (замычал, проворчал: «хрюкнул»). "I'll have to get it myself. Paulie called in sick this morning. Got a cold again (простудился)."

Don Corleone looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's the third time this month. I think maybe you'd better get a healthier fellow for this job. Tell Tom."

Fred protested. "Paulie's a good kid. If he says he's sick, he's sick. I don't mind getting the car," He left the office. Don Corleone watched out the window as his son crossed Ninth Avenue to the parking lot. He stopped to call Hagen's office but there was no answer. He called the house at Long Beach but again there was no answer. Irritated, he looked out the window. His car was parked at the curb in front of his building. Freddie was leaning against the fender, arms folded, watching the throng of Christmas shoppers. Don Corleone put on his jacket. The office manager helped him with his overcoat. Don Corleone grunted his thanks and went out the door and started down the two flights (два пролета) of steps.

Out in the street the early winter light was failing. Freddie leaned casually against the fender of the heavy Buick. When he saw his father come out of the building Freddie went out into the street to the driver's side of the car and got in. Don Corleone was about to get in on the sidewalk side of the car when he hesitated (помедлил: «засомневался») and then turned back to the long open fruit stand near the corner. This had been his habit (привычка) lately, he loved the big but-of-season fruits, yellow peaches and oranges, that glowed (светились, рдели, румянились) in their green boxes. The proprietor sprang to serve him. Don Corleone did not handle the fruit (не брал в руки, не перебирал). He pointed. The fruit man disputed his decisions only once, to show him that one of his choices had a rotten underside (гнилой низ). Don Corleone took the paper bag in his left hand and paid the man with a five-dollar bill. He took his change and, as he turned to go back to the waiting car, two men stepped from around the corner. Don Corleone knew immediately what was to happen.

The two men wore black overcoats and black hats pulled low to prevent identification by witnesses (to prevent – предотвратить, не допустить [pri’vent]). They had not expected Don Corleone's alert reaction (alert – бдительный, проворный [∂'l∂:t]). He dropped the bag of fruit and darted toward the parked car (бросился; dart – стрела, дротик) with startling quickness for a man of his bulk. At the same time he shouted, "Fredo, Fredo." It was only then that the two men drew their guns and fired.

The first bullet caught Don Corleone in the back. He felt the hammer shock of its impact but made his body move toward the car. The next two bullets hit him in the buttocks and sent him sprawling in the middle of the street (to sprawl – растянуться, развалиться). Meanwhile the two gunmen, careful not to slip on the rolling fruit (to slip – поскользнуться), started to follow in order to finish him off. At that moment, perhaps no more than five seconds after the Don's call to his son, Frederico Corleone appeared out of his car, looming over it (to loom – виднеться, неясно вырисовываться, маячить; принимать угрожающие размеры). The gunmen fired two more hasty shots at the Don lying in the gutter (в /сточной/ канаве). One hit him in the fleshy part of his arm and the second hit him in the calf of his right leg. Though these wounds were the least serious they bled profusely (обильно; profuse [pr∂’fju:s] – изобилующий, расточительный), forming small pools of blood beside his body. But by this time Don Corleone had lost consciousness (потерял сознание; conscious ['kon∫∂s] – сознательный; ощущающий).

Freddie had heard his father shout, calling him by his childhood name, and then he had heard the first two loud reports (report – звенящее эхо /выстрела/). By the time he got out of the car he was in shock, he had not even drawn his gun. The two assassins (assassin [∂'sæsın] – /наемный, нападающий из-за угла/ убийца) could easily have shot him down. But they too panicked.

They must have known the son was armed, and besides too much time had passed. They disappeared around the corner, leaving Freddie alone in the street with his father's bleeding body. Many of the people thronging the avenue had flung themselves into doorways or on the ground (бросились; to fling), others had huddled together in small groups (толпились, жались друг к другу).

Freddie still had not drawn his weapon. He seemed stunned (to stun – оглушать ударом). He stared down at his father's body lying face down on the tarred street (на испачканной: «просмоленной» улице; tar – смола, гудрон), lying now in what seemed to him a blackish lake of blood (черноватое озеро). Freddie went into physical shock. People eddied out again (снова появились, вышли наружу; eddy – маленький водоворот, воронка; to eddy – крутиться в водовороте) and someone, seeing him start to sag (начал оседать), led him to the curbstone and made him sit down on it. A crowd gathered around Don Corleone's body, a circle that shattered (рассыпался) when the first police car sirened a path through them. Directly behind the police was the Daily News radio car and even before it stopped a photographer jumped out to snap pictures (щелкнуть, нащелкать) of the bleeding Don Corleone. A few moments later an ambulance arrived. The photographer turned his attention to Freddie Corleone, who was now weeping openly, and this was a curiously comical sight, because of his tough, Cupid-featured face, heavy nose and thick mouth smeared with snot (измаранные соплями; to smear – размазывать; пачкать). Detectives were spreading through the crowd and more police cars were coming up. One detective knelt beside Freddie, questioning him, but Freddie was too deep in shock to answer. The detective reached inside Freddie's coat and lifted his wallet. He looked at the identification inside and whistled to his partner. In just a few seconds Freddie had been cut off from the crowd by a flock of plainclothesmen (группкой: «стадом» сыщиков: «людей в штатском»). The first detective found Freddie's gun in its shoulder holster (в кобуре) and took it. Then they lifted Freddie off his feet and shoved him into an unmarked car. As that car pulled away it was followed by the Daily News radio car. The photographer was still snapping pictures of everybody and everything.

At a quarter to five that afternoon, Don Corleone had finished checking the papers the office manager of his olive oil company had prepared for him. He put on his jacket and rapped his knuckles on his son Freddie's head to make him take his nose out of the afternoon newspaper. "Tell Gatto to get the car from the lot," he said. "I'll be ready to go home in a few minutes."

Freddie grunted. "I'll have to get it myself. Paulie called in sick this morning. Got a cold again."

Don Corleone looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's the third time this month. I think maybe you'd better get a healthier fellow for this job. Tell Tom."

Fred protested. "Paulie's a good kid. If he says he's sick, he's sick. I don't mind getting the car," He left the office. Don Corleone watched out the window as his son crossed Ninth Avenue to the parking lot. He stopped to call Hagen's office but there was no answer. He called the house at Long Beach but again there was no answer. Irritated, he looked out the window. His car was parked at the curb in front of his building. Freddie was leaning against the fender, arms folded, watching the throng of Christmas shoppers. Don Corleone put on his jacket. The office manager helped him with his overcoat. Don Corleone grunted his thanks and went out the door and started down the two flights of steps.

Out in the street the early winter light was failing. Freddie leaned casually against the fender of the heavy Buick. When he saw his father come out of the building Freddie went out into the street to the driver's side of the car and got in. Don Corleone was about to get in on the sidewalk side of the car when he hesitated and then turned back to the long open fruit stand near the corner. This had been his habit lately, he loved the big but-of-season fruits, yellow peaches and oranges, that glowed in their green boxes. The proprietor sprang to serve him. Don Corleone did not handle the fruit. He pointed. The fruit man disputed his decisions only once, to show him that one of his choices had a rotten underside. Don Corleone took the paper bag in his left hand and paid the man with a five-dollar bill. He took his change and, as he turned to go back to the waiting car, two men stepped from around the corner. Don Corleone knew immediately what was to happen.

The two men wore black overcoats and black hats pulled low to prevent identification by witnesses. They had not expected Don Corleone's alert reaction. He dropped the bag of fruit and darted toward the parked car with startling quickness for a man of his bulk. At the same time he shouted, "Fredo, Fredo." It was only then that the two men drew their guns and fired.

The first bullet caught Don Corleone in the back. He felt the hammer shock of its impact but made his body move toward the car. The next two bullets hit him in the buttocks and sent him sprawling in the middle of the street. Meanwhile the two gunmen, careful not to slip on the rolling fruit, started to follow in order to finish him off. At that moment, perhaps no more than five seconds after the Don's call to his son, Frederico Corleone appeared out of his car, looming over it. The gunmen fired two more hasty shots at the Don lying in the gutter. One hit him in the fleshy part of his arm and the second hit him in the calf of his right leg. Though these wounds were the least serious they bled profusely, forming small pools of blood beside his body. But by this time Don Corleone had lost consciousness.

Freddie had heard his father shout, calling him by his childhood name, and then he had heard the first two loud reports. By the time he got out of the car he was in shock, he had not even drawn his gun. The two assassins could easily have shot him down. But they too panicked.

They must have known the son was armed, and besides too much time had passed. They disappeared around the corner, leaving Freddie alone in the street with his father's bleeding body. Many of the people thronging the avenue had flung themselves into doorways or on the ground, others had huddled together in small groups.

Freddie still had not drawn his weapon. He seemed stunned. He stared down at his father's body lying face down on the tarred street, lying now in what seemed to him a blackish lake of blood. Freddie went into physical shock. People eddied out again and someone, seeing him start to sag, led him to the curbstone and made him sit down on it. A crowd gathered around Don Corleone's body, a circle that shattered when the first police car sirened a path through them. Directly behind the police was the Daily News radio car and even before it stopped a photographer jumped out to snap pictures of the bleeding Don Corleone. A few moments later an ambulance arrived. The photographer turned his attention to Freddie Corleone, who was now weeping openly, and this was a curiously comical sight, because of his tough, Cupid-featured face, heavy nose and thick mouth smeared with snot. Detectives were spreading through the crowd and more police cars were coming up. One detective knelt beside Freddie, questioning him, but Freddie was too deep in shock to answer. The detective reached inside Freddie's coat and lifted his wallet. He looked at the identification inside and whistled to his partner. In just a few seconds Freddie had been cut off from the crowd by a flock of plainclothesmen. The first detective found Freddie's gun in its shoulder holster and took it. Then they lifted Freddie off his feet and shoved him into an unmarked car. As that car pulled away it was followed by the Daily News radio car. The photographer was still snapping pictures of everybody and everything.

In the half hour after the shooting of his father, Sonny Corleone received five phone calls in rapid succession (в быстром следовании /друг за другом/; rapid ['ræpıd] – скорый, стремительный). The first was from Detective John Phillips, who was on the family payroll and had been in the lead car of plainclothesmen at the scene of the shooting. The first thing he said to Sonny over the phone was, "Do you recognize my voice?"

"Yeah," Sonny said. He was fresh from a nap (дремота, короткий сон), called to the phone by his wife.

Phillips said quickly without preamble (преамбула; предисловие, вступление [pri:’æmbl]), "Somebody shot your father outside his place. Fifteen minutes ago. He's alive but hurt bad. They've taken him to French Hospital. They got your brother Freddie down at the Chelsea precinct. You better get him a doctor when they turn him loose (отпустят). I'm going down to the hospital now to help question your old man, if he can talk. I'll keep you posted (держать в курсе)."

Across the table, Sonny's wife Sandra noticed that her husband's face had gone red with flushing blood. His eyes were glazed over (остекленели, потускнели; to glaze – покрывать глазурью). She whispered, "What's the matter?" He waved at her impatiently to shut up (чтобы заткнулась), swung his body away so that his back was toward her and said into the phone, "You sure he's alive?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," the detective said. "A lot of blood but I think maybe he's not as bad as he looks."

"Thanks, " Sonny said. "Be home tomorrow morning eight sharp. You got a grand coming."

Sonny cradled the phone (повесил трубку; cradle – колыбель; to cradle – класть в колыбель; вешать трубку). He forced himself to sit still. He knew that his greatest weakness was his anger and this was one time when anger could be fatal. The first thing to do was get Tom Hagen. But before he could pick up the phone, it rang. The call was from the bookmaker (букмекер – получающий деньги с тех, кто делает ставки на скачках) licensed by the Family to operate in the district of the Don's office. The bookmaker had called to tell him that the Don had been killed, shot dead in the street. After a few questions to make sure that the bookmaker's informant had not been close to the body, Sonny dismissed the information as incorrect. Phillips' dope would be more accurate. The phone rang almost immediately a third time. It was a reporter from the Daily News. As soon as he identified himself, Sonny Corleone hung up.

He dialed Hagen's house and asked Hagen's wife, "Did Tom come home yet?" She said, "No," that he was not due for another twenty minutes but she expected home for supper. "Have him call me," Sonny said.

He tried to think things out. He tried to imagine (вообразить [ı’mædGın]) how his father would react in a like situation. He had known immediately that this was an attack by Sollozzo, but Sollozzo would never have dared to eliminate (устранить [ı’lımıneıt]) so high-ranking a leader as the Don unless he was backed by other powerful people. The phone, ringing for the fourth time, interrupted his thoughts. The voice on the other end was very soft, very gentle. "Santino Corleone?" it asked.

"Yeah," Sonny said.

"We have Tom Hagen," the voice said. "In about three hours he'll be released with our proposition. Don't do anything rash until you've heard what he has to say. You can only cause a lot of trouble. What's done is done. Everybody has to be sensible now. Don't lose that famous temper of yours (самообладание; нрав, характер)." The voice was slightly mocking. Sonny couldn't be sure, but it sounded like Sollozzo. He made his voice sound muted, depressed. "I'll wait," he said. He heard the receiver on the other end click. He looked at his heavy gold-banded wristwatch and noted the exact time of the call and jotted it down on the tablecloth (to jot – кратко записать, набросать).

He sat at the kitchen table, frowning (нахмурившись). His wife asked, "Sonny, what is it?" He told her calmly, "They shot the old man." When he saw the shock on her face he said roughly, "Don't worry, he's not dead. And nothing else is going to happen." He did not tell her about Hagen. And then the phone rang for the fifth time.

It was Clemenza. The fat man's voice came wheezing over the phone in gruntlike gasps (затрудненное дыханье, удушье). "You hear about your father?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sonny said. "But he's not dead." There was a long pause over the phone and then Clemenza's voice came packed with emotion, "Thank God, thank God." Then anxiously, "You sure? I got word he was dead in the street."

"He's alive," Sonny said. He was listening intently to every intonation in Clemenza's voice. The emotion had seemed genuine but it was part of the fat man's profession to be a good actor.

"You'll have to carry the ball, Sonny," Clemenza said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get over to my father's house," Sonny said. "Bring Paulie Gatto."

"That's all?" Clemenza asked. "Don't you want me to send some people to the hospital and your place?"

"No, I just want you and Paulie Gatto," Sonny said. There was a long pause. Clemenza was getting the message. To make it a little more natural, Sonny asked, "Where the hell was Paulie anyway? What the hell was he doing?"

There was no longer any wheezing on the other end of the line. Clemenza's voice was guarded. "Paulie was sick, he had a cold, so he stayed home. He's been a little sick all winter."

Sonny was instantly alert. "How many times did he stay home the last couple of months?"

"Maybe three or four times," Clemenza said. "I always asked Freddie if he wanted another guy but he said no. There's been no cause, the last ten years things been smooth, you know."

"Yeah," Sonny said. "I'll see you at my father's house. Be sure you bring Paulie. Pick him up on your way over. I don't care how sick he is. You got that?" He slammed down the phone (to slam – хлопнуть /дверью/, бросить со стуком) without waiting for an answer.

His wife was weeping silently. He stared at her for a moment, then said in a harsh voice (harsh – жесткий, грубый), "Any of our people call, tell them to get me in my father's house on his special phone. Anybody else call, you don't know nothing. If Tom's wife calls, tell her that Tom won't be home for a while, he's on business.

He pondered for a moment. "A couple of our people will come to stay here." He saw her look of fright and said impatiently, "You don't have to be scared, I just want them here. Do whatever they tell you to do. If you wanta (= want to) talk to me, get me on Pop's special phone but don't call me unless it's really important. And don't worry." He went out of the house.

Darkness had fallen and the December wind whipped through the mall (хлестал по аллее; whip – хлыст). Sonny had no fear about stepping out into the night. All eight houses were owned by Don Corleone. At the mouth of the mall the two houses on either side were rented by family retainers (retainer – слуга /постоянно живущий в какой-либо семье/) with their own families and star boarders (и постоянными квартирантами, пансионерами), single men who lived in the basement apartments (basement – подвал; цокольный этаж). Of the remaining six houses that formed the rest of the half circle, one was inhabited by Tom Hagen and his family, his own, and the smallest and least ostentatious (бросающийся в глаза, показной [osten'teı∫∂s]) by the Don himself. The other three houses were given rent-free to retired friends of the Don with the understanding that they would be vacated whenever he requested (освобождены по первому требованию). The harmless-looking mall was an impregnable fortress («непроницаемая» крепость).

All eight houses were equipped with floodlights which bathed the grounds around them and made the mall impossible to lurk in (прокрасться; to lurk – скрываться в засаде, прятаться). Sonny went across the street to his father's house and let himself inside with his own key. He yelled out, "Ma, where are you?" and his mother came out of the kitchen. Behind her rose the smell of frying peppers (жарящегося перца). Before she could say anything, Sonny took her by the arm and made her sit down. "I just got a call," he said. "Now don't get worried. Pop's in the hospital, he's hurt. Get dressed and get ready to get down there. I'll have a car and a driver for you in a little while. OK?"

His mother looked at him steadily (пристально: «неподвижно») for a moment and then asked in Italian, "Have they shot him?"

Sonny nodded. His mother bowed her head for a moment. Then she went back into the kitchen. Sonny followed her. He watched her turn off the gas under the panful of peppers (под сковородой с перцем) and then go out and up to the bedroom. He took peppers from the pan and bread from the basket on the table and made a sloppy sandwich (sloppy – мокрый, водянистый) with hot olive oil dripping from his fingers. He went into the huge corner room that was his father's office and took the special phone from a locked cabinet box (to lock – запирать). The phone had been especially installed and was listed under a phony (фальшивое) name and a phony address. The first person he called was Luca Brasi. There was no answer. Then he called the safety-valve caporegime in Brooklyn, a man of unquestioned loyalty to the Don. This man's name was Tessio. Sonny told him what had happened and what he wanted. Tessio was to recruit fifty absolutely reliable men (надежных; to rely on … – полагаться на …). He was to send guards to the hospital, he was to send men out to Long Beach to work here. Tessio asked, "Did they get Clemenza too?" Sonny said, "I don't want to use Clemenza's people right now." Tessio understood immediately, there was a pause, and then he said, "Excuse me, Sonny, I say this as your father would say it. Don't move too fast. I can't believe Clemenza would betray us."

"Thanks," Sonny said. "I don't think so but I have to be careful. Right?"

"Right," Tessio said.

"Another thing," Sonny said. "My kid brother Mike goes to college in Hanover, New Hampshire. Get some people we know in Boston to go up and get him and bring him down here to the house until this blow’s over. I'll call him up so he'll expect them. Again I'm just playing the percentages, just to make sure."

"OK," Tessio said, "I'll be over your father's house as soon as I get things rolling. OK? You know my boys, right?"

"Yeah," Sonny said. He hung up. He went over to a small wall safe and unlocked it. From it he took an indexed book (с алфавитным индексом) bound in blue leather. He opened it to the T's until he found the entry he was looking for. It read, "Ray Farrell $5,000 Christmas Eve (Сочельник)." This was followed by a telephone number. Sonny dialed the number and said, "Farrell?" The man on the other end answered, "Yes." Sonny said, "This is Santino Corleone. I want you to do me a favor and I want you to do it right away (сейчас же, незамедлительно). I want you to check two phone numbers and give me all the calls they got and all the calls they made for the last three months." He gave Farrell the number of Paulie Gatto's home and Clemenza's home. Then he said, "This is important. Get it to me before midnight and you'll have an extra very Merry Christmas."

Before he settled back to think things out he gave Luca Brasi's number one more call. Again there was no answer. This worried him but he put it out of his mind. Luca would come to the house as soon as he heard the news. Sonny leaned back in the swivel chair (вращающееся кресло; swivel [swıvl] – шарнирное соединение). In an hour the house would be swarming with Family people (to swarm – кишеть, роиться; swarm – рой, стая) and he would have to tell them all what to do, and now that he finally had time to think he realized how serious the situation was. It was the first challenge (вызов) to the Corleone Family and their power in ten years. There was no doubt that Sollozzo was behind it, but he would never have dared attempt such a stroke (никогда бы не отважился на такой удар; to attempt – попытаться) unless he had support from at least one of the five great New York families. And that support must have come from the Tattaglias. Which meant a full-scale war (полномасштабную; scale – чаша весов; градация; масштаб) or an immediate settlement on Sollozzo's terms (немедленное принятие его условий; settlement – урегулирование, соглашение). Sonny smiled grimly. The wily (коварный, хитрый) Turk had planned well but he had been unlucky. The old man was alive and so it was war. With Luca Brasi and the resources of the Corleone Family there could be but one outcome. But again the nagging worry (грызущее беспокойство). Where was Luca Brasi?

In the half hour after the shooting of his father, Sonny Corleone received five phone calls in rapid succession. The first was from Detective John Phillips, who was on the family payroll and had been in the lead car of plainclothesmen at the scene of the shooting. The first thing he said to Sonny over the phone was, "Do you recognize my voice?"

"Yeah," Sonny said. He was fresh from a nap, called to the phone by his wife.

Phillips said quickly without preamble, "Somebody shot your father outside his place. Fifteen minutes ago. He's alive but hurt bad. They've taken him to French Hospital. They got your brother Freddie down at the Chelsea precinct. You better get him a doctor when they turn him loose. I'm going down to the hospital now to help question your old man, if he can talk. I'll keep you posted."

Across the table, Sonny's wife Sandra noticed that her husband's face had gone red with flushing blood. His eyes were glazed over. She whispered, "What's the matter?" He waved at her impatiently to shut up, swung his body away so that his back was toward her and said into the phone, "You sure he's alive?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," the detective said. "A lot of blood but I think maybe he's not as bad as he looks."

"Thanks, " Sonny said. "Be home tomorrow morning eight sharp. You got a grand coming."

Sonny cradled the phone. He forced himself to sit still. He knew that his greatest weakness was his anger and this was one time when anger could be fatal. The first thing to do was get Tom Hagen. But before he could pick up the phone, it rang. The call was from the bookmaker licensed by the Family to operate in the district of the Don's office. The bookmaker had called to tell him that the Don had been killed, shot dead in the street. After a few questions to make sure that the bookmaker's informant had not been close to the body, Sonny dismissed the information as incorrect. Phillips' dope would be more accurate. The phone rang almost immediately a third time. It was a reporter from the Daily News. As soon as he identified himself, Sonny Corleone hung up.

He dialed Hagen's house and asked Hagen's wife, "Did Tom come home yet?" She said, "No," that he was not due for another twenty minutes but she expected home for supper. "Have him call me," Sonny said.

He tried to think things out. He tried to imagine how his father would react in a like situation. He had known immediately that this was an attack by Sollozzo, but Sollozzo would never have dared to eliminate so high-ranking a leader as the Don unless he was backed by other powerful people. The phone, ringing for the fourth time, interrupted his thoughts. The voice on the other end was very soft, very gentle. "Santino Corleone?" it asked.

"Yeah," Sonny said.

"We have Tom Hagen," the voice said. "In about three hours he'll be released with our proposition. Don't do anything rash until you've heard what he has to say. You can only cause a lot of trouble. What's done is done. Everybody has to be sensible now. Don't lose that famous temper of yours." The voice was slightly mocking. Sonny couldn't be sure, but it sounded like Sollozzo. He made his voice sound muted, depressed. "I'll wait," he said. He heard the receiver on the other end click. He looked at his heavy gold-banded wristwatch and noted the exact time of the call and jotted it down on the tablecloth.

He sat at the kitchen table, frowning. His wife asked, "Sonny, what is it?" He told her calmly, "They shot the old man." When he saw the shock on her face he said roughly, "Don't worry, he's not dead. And nothing else is going to happen." He did not tell her about Hagen. And then the phone rang for the fifth time.

It was Clemenza. The fat man's voice came wheezing over the phone in gruntlike gasps. "You hear about your father?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sonny said. "But he's not dead." There was a long pause over the phone and then Clemenza's voice came packed with emotion, "Thank God, thank God." Then anxiously, "You sure? I got word he was dead in the street."

"He's alive," Sonny said. He was listening intently to every intonation in Clemenza's voice. The emotion had seemed genuine but it was part of the fat man's profession to be a good actor.

"You'll have to carry the ball, Sonny," Clemenza said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get over to my father's house," Sonny said. "Bring Paulie Gatto."

"That's all?" Clemenza asked. "Don't you want me to send some people to the hospital and your place?"

"No, I just want you and Paulie Gatto," Sonny said. There was a long pause. Clemenza was getting the message. To make it a little more natural, Sonny asked, "Where the hell was Paulie anyway? What the hell was he doing?"

There was no longer any wheezing on the other end of the line. Clemenza's voice was guarded. "Paulie was sick, he had a cold, so he stayed home. He's been a little sick all winter."

Sonny was instantly alert. "How many times did he stay home the last couple of months?"

"Maybe three or four times," Clemenza said. "I always asked Freddie if he wanted another guy but he said no. There's been no cause, the last ten years things been smooth, you know."

"Yeah," Sonny said. "I'll see you at my father's house. Be sure you bring Paulie. Pick him up on your way over. I don't care how sick he is. You got that?" He slammed down the phone without waiting for an answer.

His wife was weeping silently. He stared at her for a moment, then said in a harsh voice, "Any of our people call, tell them to get me in my father's house on his special phone. Anybody else call, you don't know nothing. If Tom's wife calls, tell her that Tom won't be home for a while, he's on business.

He pondered for a moment. "A couple of our people will come to stay here." He saw her look of fright and said impatiently, "You don't have to be scared, I just want them here. Do whatever they tell you to do. If you wanta talk to me, get me on Pop's special phone but don't call me unless it's really important. And don't worry." He went out of the house.

Darkness had fallen and the December wind whipped through the mall. Sonny had no fear about stepping out into the night. All eight houses were owned by Don Corleone. At the mouth of the mall the two houses on either side were rented by family retainers with their own families and star boarders, single men who lived in the basement apartments. Of the remaining six houses that formed the rest of the half circle, one was inhabited by Tom Hagen and his family, his own, and the smallest and least ostentatious by the Don himself. The other three houses were given rent-free to retired friends of the Don with the understanding that they would be vacated whenever he requested. The harmless-looking mall was an impregnable fortress.

All eight houses were equipped with floodlights which bathed the grounds around them and made the mall impossible to lurk in. Sonny went across the street to his father's house and let himself inside with his own key. He yelled out, "Ma, where are you?" and his mother came out of the kitchen. Behind her rose the smell of frying peppers. Before she could say anything, Sonny took her by the arm and made her sit down. "I just got a call," he said. "Now don't get worried. Pop's in the hospital, he's hurt. Get dressed and get ready to get down there. I'll have a car and a driver for you in a little while. OK?"

His mother looked at him steadily for a moment and then asked in Italian, "Have they shot him?"

Sonny nodded. His mother bowed her head for a moment. Then she went back into the kitchen. Sonny followed her. He watched her turn off the gas under the panful of peppers and then go out and up to the bedroom. He took peppers from the pan and bread from the basket on the table and made a sloppy sandwich with hot olive oil dripping from his fingers. He went into the huge corner room that was his father's office and took the special phone from a locked cabinet box. The phone had been especially installed and was listed under a phony name and a phony address. The first person he called was Luca Brasi. There was no answer. Then he called the safety-valve caporegime in Brooklyn, a man of unquestioned loyalty to the Don. This man's name was Tessio. Sonny told him what had happened and what he wanted. Tessio was to recruit fifty absolutely reliable men. He was to send guards to the hospital, he was to send men out to Long Beach to work here. Tessio asked, "Did they get Clemenza too?" Sonny said, "I don't want to use Clemenza's people right now." Tessio understood immediately, there was a pause, and then he said, "Excuse me, Sonny, I say this as your father would say it. Don't move too fast. I can't believe Clemenza would betray us."

"Thanks," Sonny said. "I don't think so but I have to be careful. Right?"

"Right," Tessio said.

"Another thing," Sonny said. "My kid brother Mike goes to college in Hanover, New Hampshire. Get some people we know in Boston to go up and get him and bring him down here to the house until this blow’s over. I'll call him up so he'll expect them. Again I'm just playing the percentages, just to make sure."

"OK," Tessio said, "I'll be over your father's house as soon as I get things rolling. OK? You know my boys, right?"

"Yeah," Sonny said. He hung up. He went over to a small wall safe and unlocked it. From it he took an indexed book bound in blue leather. He opened it to the T's until he found the entry he was looking for. It read, "Ray Farrell $5,000 Christmas Eve." This was followed by a telephone number. Sonny dialed the number and said, "Farrell?" The man on the other end answered, "Yes." Sonny said, "This is Santino Corleone. I want you to do me a favor and I want you to do it right away. I want you to check two phone numbers and give me all the calls they got and all the calls they made for the last three months." He gave Farrell the number of Paulie Gatto's home and Clemenza's home. Then he said, "This is important. Get it to me before midnight and you'll have an extra very Merry Christmas."

Before he settled back to think things out he gave Luca Brasi's number one more call. Again there was no answer. This worried him but he put it out of his mind. Luca would come to the house as soon as he heard the news. Sonny leaned back in the swivel chair. In an hour the house would be swarming with Family people and he would have to tell them all what to do, and now that he finally had time to think he realized how serious the situation was. It was the first challenge to the Corleone Family and their power in ten years. There was no doubt that Sollozzo was behind it, but he would never have dared attempt such a stroke unless he had support from at least one of the five great New York families. And that support must have come from the Tattaglias. Which meant a full-scale war or an immediate settlement on Sollozzo's terms. Sonny smiled grimly. The wily Turk had planned well but he had been unlucky. The old man was alive and so it was war. With Luca Brasi and the resources of the Corleone Family there could be but one outcome. But again the nagging worry. Where was Luca Brasi?

Chapter 3

Counting the driver, there were four men in the car with Hagen. They put him in the back seat, in the middle of the two men who had come up behind him in the street. Sollozzo sat up front. The man on Hagen's right reached over across his body and tilted Hagen's hat (наклонил, отвернул) over his eyes so that he could not see. "Don't even move your pinkie (мизинец)," he said.

It was a short ride, not more than twenty minutes and when they got out of the car Hagen could not recognize the neighborhood because darkness had fallen. They led him into a basement apartment and made him sit on a straight-backed kitchen chair. Sollozzo sat across the kitchen table from him. His dark face had a peculiarly vulterine look (особенно хищное выражение /лица/; vulture [‘vLlt∫∂] – гриф /птица/; peculiarly [pı’kju:l∂lı] – особо; странно, необычно).

"I don't want you to be afraid," he said. "I know you're not in the muscle end of the Family (не обладаешь реальной властью, силой). I want you to help the Corleones and I want you to help me."

Hagen's hands were shaking as he put a cigarette in his mouth. One of the men brought a bottle of rye to the table and gave him a slug of it in a china coffee cup. Hagen drank the fiery liquid gratefully. It steadied his hands and took the weakness out of his legs.

"Your boss is dead," Sollozzo said. He paused, surprised at the tears that sprang to Hagen's eyes. Then he went on. "We got him outside his office, in the street. As soon as I got the word, I picked you up. You have to make the peace between me and Sonny."

Hagen didn't answer. He was surprised at his own grief (скорбь, горе). And the feeling of desolation (опустошенность; безутешность [des∂'leı∫∂n]) mixed with his fear of death. Sollozzo was speaking again. "Sonny was hot for my deal (был в восторге от моего предложения, был за). Right? You know it's the smart thing to do too. Narcotics is the coming thing. There's so much money in it that everybody can get rich just in a couple of years. The Don was an old 'Moustache Pete,' (человек старого закала) his day was over but he didn't know it. Now he's dead, nothing can bring him back. I'm ready to make a new deal, I want you to talk Sonny into taking it."

Hagen said, "You haven't got a chance. Sonny will come after you with everything he's got (to come after – преследовать)."

Sollozzo said impatiently, "That's gonna be his first reaction. You have to talk some sense to him. The Tattaglia Family stands behind me with all their people. The other New York families will go along with anything that will stop a full-scale war between us. Our war has to hurt them and their businesses. If Sonny goes along with the deal (to go along – сопровождать; соглашаться), the other Families in the country will consider it none of their affair, even the Don's oldest friends."

Hagen stared down at his hands, not answering. Sollozzo went on persuasively (убеждая, стараясь убедить; to persuade [p∂s’weıd] – убеждать). "The Don was slipping (сильно сдал; to slip – соскальзывать; ухудшаться, деградировать). In the old days I could never have gotten to him (не смог бы к нему подобраться). The other Families distrust him (не доверяют) because he made you his Consigliori and you're not even Italian, much less Sicilian. If it goes to all-out war (дойдет до полной, тотальной войны; all-out – изо всех сил, всеми средствами) the Corleone Family will be smashed and everybody loses, me included. I need the Family political contacts more than I need the money even. So talk to Sonny, talk to the caporegimes; you'll save a lot of bloodshed (кровопролитие)."

Hagen held out his china cup for more whiskey. "I'll try," he said. "But Sonny is strong-headed (упрям). And even Sonny won't be able to call off Luca. You have to worry about Luca. I'll have to worry about Luca if I go for your deal."

Sollozzo said quietly, "I'll take care of Luca. You take care of Sonny and the other two kids. Listen, you can tell them that Freddie would have gotten it today with his old man but my people had strict orders (строгие указания, определенный, точный указ) not to gun him. I didn't want any more hard feelings (раздражение, гнев, вражда) than necessary. You can tell them that, Freddie is alive because of me."

Finally Hagen's mind was working. For the first time he really believed that Sollozzo did not mean to kill him or hold him as a hostage (заложник). The sudden relief (облегчение, освобождение) from fear that flooded his body made him flush with shame. Sollozzo watched him with a quiet understanding smile. Hagen began to think things out. If he did not agree to argue Sollozzo's case (to argue [‘α:gju:] – спорить, доказывать, утверждать; здесь: поддержать, выступить в защиту), he might be killed. But then he realized that Sollozzo expected him only to present it (представить, показать, передать) and present it properly, as he was bound (обязан) to do as a responsible Consigliori. And now, thinking about it, he also realized that Sollozzo was right. An unlimited war between the Tattaglias and the Corleones must be avoided at all costs (to avoid – избежать). The Corleones must bury their dead and forget, make a deal. And then when the time was right they could move against Sollozzo.

But glancing up, he realized that Sollozzo knew exactly what he was thinking. The Turk was smiling. And then it struck Hagen. What had happened to Luca Brasi that Sollozzo was so unconcerned? Had Luca made a deal? He remembered that on the night Don Corleone had refused Sollozzo, Luca had been summoned into the office for a private conference with the Don. But now was not the time to worry about such details. He had to get back to the safety of the Corleone Family fortress in Long Beach. "I'll do my best," he said to Sollozzo. "I believe you're right, it's even what the Don would want us to do."

Sollozzo nodded gravely. "Fine," he said. "I don't like bloodshed, I'm a businessman and blood costs too much money." At that moment the phone rang and one of the men sitting behind Hagen went to answer it. He listened and then said curtly, "OK, I'll tell him." He hung up the phone, went to Sollozzo's side and whispered in the Turk's ear. Hagen saw Sollozzo's face go pale, his eyes glitter with rage (to glitter – блестеть, сверкать). He himself felt a thrill of fear. Sollozzo was looking at him speculatively (задумчиво, размышляя) and suddenly Hagen knew that he was no longer going to be set free. That something had happened that might mean his death. Sollozzo said, "The old man is still alive. Five bullets in his Sicilian hide (кожа, шкура) and he's still alive." He gave a fatalistic shrug. "Bad luck," he said to Hagen. "Bad luck for me. Bad luck for you."

Counting the driver, there were four men in the car with Hagen. They put him in the back seat, in the middle of the two men who had come up behind him in the street. Sollozzo sat up front. The man on Hagen's right reached over across his body and tilted Hagen's hat over his eyes so that he could not see. "Don't even move your pinkie," he said.

It was a short ride, not more than twenty minutes and when they got out of the car Hagen could not recognize the neighborhood because darkness had fallen. They led him into a basement apartment and made him sit on a straight-backed kitchen chair. Sollozzo sat across the kitchen table from him. His dark face had a peculiarly vulterine look.

"I don't want you to be afraid," he said. "I know you're not in the muscle end of the Family. I want you to help the Corleones and I want you to help me."

Hagen's hands were shaking as he put a cigarette in his mouth. One of the men brought a bottle of rye to the table and gave him a slug of it in a china coffee cup. Hagen drank the fiery liquid gratefully. It steadied his hands and took the weakness out of his legs.

"Your boss is dead," Sollozzo said. He paused, surprised at the tears that sprang to Hagen's eyes. Then he went on. "We got him outside his office, in the street. As soon as I got the word, I picked you up. You have to make the peace between me and Sonny."

Hagen didn't answer. He was surprised at his own grief. And the feeling of desolation mixed with his fear of death. Sollozzo was speaking again. "Sonny was hot for my deal. Right? You know it's the smart thing to do too. Narcotics is the coming thing. There's so much money in it that everybody can get rich just in a couple of years. The Don was an old 'Moustache Pete,' his day was over but he didn't know it. Now he's dead, nothing can bring him back. I'm ready to make a new deal, I want you to talk Sonny into taking it."

Hagen said, "You haven't got a chance. Sonny will come after you with everything he's got."

Sollozzo said impatiently, "That's gonna be his first reaction. You have to talk some sense to him. The Tattaglia Family stands behind me with all their people. The other New York families will go along with anything that will stop a full-scale war between us. Our war has to hurt them and their businesses. If Sonny goes along with the deal, the other Families in the country will consider it none of their affair, even the Don's oldest friends."

Hagen stared down at his hands, not answering. Sollozzo went on persuasively. "The Don was slipping. In the old days I could never have gotten to him. The other Families distrust him because he made you his Consigliori and you're not even Italian, much less Sicilian. If it goes to all-out war the Corleone Family will be smashed and everybody loses, me included. I need the Family political contacts more than I need the money even. So talk to Sonny, talk to the caporegimes; you'll save a lot of bloodshed."

Hagen held out his china cup for more whiskey. "I'll try," he said. "But Sonny is strong-headed. And even Sonny won't be able to call off Luca. You have to worry about Luca. I'll have to worry about Luca if I go for your deal."

Sollozzo said quietly, "I'll take care of Luca. You take care of Sonny and the other two kids. Listen, you can tell them that Freddie would have gotten it today with his old man but my people had strict orders not to gun him. I didn't want any more hard feelings than necessary. You can tell them that, Freddie is alive because of me."

Finally Hagen's mind was working. For the first time he really believed that Sollozzo did not mean to kill him or hold him as a hostage. The sudden relief from fear that flooded his body made him flush with shame. Sollozzo watched him with a quiet understanding smile. Hagen began to think things out. If he did not agree to argue Sollozzo's case, he might be killed. But then he realized that Sollozzo expected him only to present it and present it properly, as he was bound to do as a responsible Consigliori. And now, thinking about it, he also realized that Sollozzo was right. An unlimited war between the Tattaglias and the Corleones must be avoided at all costs. The Corleones must bury their dead and forget, make a deal. And then when the time was right they could move against Sollozzo.

But glancing up, he realized that Sollozzo knew exactly what he was thinking. The Turk was smiling. And then it struck Hagen. What had happened to Luca Brasi that Sollozzo was so unconcerned? Had Luca made a deal? He remembered that on the night Don Corleone had refused Sollozzo, Luca had been summoned into the office for a private conference with the Don. But now was not the time to worry about such details. He had to get back to the safety of the Corleone Family fortress in Long Beach. "I'll do my best," he said to Sollozzo. "I believe you're right, it's even what the Don would want us to do."

Sollozzo nodded gravely. "Fine," he said. "I don't like bloodshed, I'm a businessman and blood costs too much money." At that moment the phone rang and one of the men sitting behind Hagen went to answer it. He listened and then said curtly, "OK, I'll tell him." He hung up the phone, went to Sollozzo's side and whispered in the Turk's ear. Hagen saw Sollozzo's face go pale, his eyes glitter with rage. He himself felt a thrill of fear. Sollozzo was looking at him speculatively and suddenly Hagen knew that he was no longer going to be set free. That something had happened that might mean his death. Sollozzo said, "The old man is still alive. Five bullets in his Sicilian hide and he's still alive." He gave a fatalistic shrug. "Bad luck," he said to Hagen. "Bad luck for me. Bad luck for you."

Chapter 4

When Michael Corleone arrived at his father's house in Long Beach he found the narrow entrance mouth of the mall blocked off with a link chain. The mall itself was bright with the floodlights of all eight houses, outlining at least ten cars parked along the curving cement walk (вдоль «изгибающегося» тротуара; to curve – изгибаться; curve – кривая линия, дуга).

Two men he didn't know were leaning against the chain. One of them asked in a Brooklyn accent, "Who're you?"

He told them. Another man came out of the nearest house and peered at his face (to peer – вглядываться). "That's the Don's kid," he said. "I'll bring him inside." Mike followed this man to his father's house, where two men at the door let him and his escort pass inside.

The house seemed to be full of men he didn't know, until he went into the living room. There Michael saw Tom Hagen's wife, Theresa, sitting stiffly on the sofa (stiff – тугой, негибкий; одеревенелый), smoking a cigarette. On the coffee table in front of her was a glass of whiskey. On the other side of the sofa sat the bulky (грузный, тучный) Clemenza. The caporegime's face was impassive, but he was sweating and the cigar in his hand glistened slickly black with his saliva (slick – гладкий, скользкий; saliva [s∂’laıv∂] – слюна).

Clemenza came to wring his hand in a consoling way (пожать ему руку, утешая = сочувственно, стараясь успокоить; to console [k∂n’s∂ul]), muttering, "Your mother is at the hospital with your father, he's going to be all right." Paulie Gatto stood up to shake hands. Michael looked at him curiously. He knew Paulie was his father's bodyguard but did not know that Paulie had stayed home sick that day. But he sensed tension (напряжение, напряженность) in the thin dark face. He knew Gatto's reputation as an up-and-coming man (подающий надежды, перспективный), a very quick man who knew how to get delicate jobs done without complications (без осложнений), and today he had failed in his duty (не исполнил свой долг). He noticed several other men in the corners of the room but he did not recognize them. They were not of Clemenza's people. Michael put these facts together and understood. Clemenza and Gatto were suspect (подозреваемы, под подозрением ['sLspekt]). Thinking that Paulie had been at the scene, he asked the ferret-faced young man, "How is Freddie? He OK?"

"The doctor gave him a shot (укол)," Clemenza said. "He's sleeping."

Michael went to Hagen's wife and bent down to kiss her cheek. They had always liked each other. He whispered, "Don't worry, Tom will be OK. Have you talked to Sonny yet?"

Theresa clung to him (to cling – цепляться, прилипнуть, крепко держаться) for a moment and shook her head. She was a delicate, very pretty woman, more American than Italian, and very scared (испуганная). He took her hand and lifted her off the sofa. Then he led her into his father's corner room office.

Sonny was sprawled out (развалился) in his chair behind the desk holding a yellow pad (блокнот) in one hand and a pencil in the other. The only other man in the room with him was the caporegime Tessio, whom Michael recognized and immediately realized that it must be his men who were in the house and forming the new palace guard. He too had a pencil and pad in his hands.

When Sonny saw them he came from behind his desk and took Hagen's wife in his arms. "Don't worry, Theresa," he said. "Tom's OK. They just wanta give him the proposition (предложение), they said they'd turn him loose (отпустят). He's not on the operating end, he's just our lawyer. There's no reason for anybody to do him harm."

He released Theresa and then to Michael's surprise he too, got a hug («получил» объятие = был обнят) and a kiss on the cheek. He pushed Sonny away and said grinning, "After I get used to you beating me up I gotta put up with this (после того, как я привык к тому, как ты меня лупил, мне еще и с этим придется мириться, и к этому привыкать)?" They had often fought when they were younger.

Sonny shrugged. "Listen, kid, I was worried when I couldn't get ahold of you (не мог тебя найти; ahold – захват, удержание) in that hick town. Not that I gave a crap if they knocked you off (не то чтобы я очень волновался, переживал бы, если бы они тебя укокошили; crap – дерьмо; ерунда, мелочь; to knock off – убить /сленг/), but I didn't like the idea of bringing the news to the old lady. I had to tell her about Pop (о папе)."

"How'd she take it?" Michael asked.

"Good," Sonny said. "She's been through it before. Me too. You were too young to know about it and then things got pretty smooth while you were growing up." He paused and then said, "She's down at the hospital with the old man. He's gonna pull through (выкарабкается)."

"How about us going down (съездить туда /в центр города/)?" Michael asked.

Sonny shook his head and said dryly, "I can't leave this house until it's all over." The phone rang. Sonny picked it up and listened intently (внимательно, сосредоточенно). While he was listening Michael sauntered over to the desk (медленно прошел; to saunter [‘so:nt∂] – медленно гулять, прохаживаться) and glanced down at the yellow pad Sonny had been writing on. There was a list of seven names. The first three were Sollozzo, Phillip Tattaglia, and John Tattaglia. It struck Michael with full force that he had interrupted Sonny and Tessio as they were making up a list of men to be killed.

When Sonny hung up the phone he said to Theresa Hagen and Michael, "Can you two wait outside? I got some business with Tessio we have to finish."

Hagen's wife said, "Was that call about Tom?" She said it almost truculently (truculent [‘trLkjul∂nt] – жестокий, свирепый; грубый, вызывающий) but she was weeping with fright. Sonny put his arm around her and led her to the door. "I swear he's going to be OK," he said. "Wait in the living room. I'll come out as soon as I hear something." He shut the door behind her. Michael had sat down in one of the big leather armchairs. Sonny gave him a quick sharp look and then went to sit down behind the desk.

"You hang around me (держись возле меня), Mike," he said, "you're gonna hear things you don't wanta hear."

Michael lit a cigarette. "I can help out," he said.

"No, you can't," Sonny said. "The old man would be sore as hell (чертовски раздражен, разозлен) if I let you get mixed up in this (позволю тебе быть замешанным в этом, втяну тебя в это)."

Michael stood up and yelled. "You lousy bastard, he's my father. I'm not supposed to help him? I can help. I don't have to go out and kill people but I can help. Stop treating me like a kid brother. I was in the war. I got shot (меня подстрелили = я был ранен), remember? I killed some Japs (япошек). What the hell do you think I'll do when you knock somebody off? Faint (упаду в обморок)?"

Sonny grinned at him. "Pretty soon you'll want me to put up my dukes (поднять руки /приняв боксерскую стойку/; dukes – кулаки /сленг/). OK, stick around, you can handle the phone." He turned to Tessio. "That call I just got gave me dope (подсказку, информацию) we needed." He turned to Michael. "Somebody had to finger the old man (должен был указать = подставить). It could have been Clemenza, it could have been Paulie Gatto, who was very conveniently sick today (convenient [k∂n’vi:nj∂nt] – удобный, подходящий). I know the answer now, let's see how smart you are, Mike, you're the college boy. Who sold out to Sollozzo?"

Michael sat down again and relaxed back into the leather armchair. He thought everything over very carefully. Clemenza was a caporegime in the Corleone Family structure. Don Corleone had made him a millionaire and they had been intimate friends for over twenty years. He held one of the most powerful posts in the organization. What could Clemenza gain for betraying his Don? More money? He was rich enough but then men are always greedy. More power? Revenge for some fancied insult or slight (месть за какое-нибудь воображаемое, надуманное оскорбление или проявление пренебрежительности; to fancy – воображать, представлять себе)? That Hagen had been made the Consigliori? Or perhaps a businessman's conviction (убеждение) that Sollozzo would win out? No, it was impossible for Clemenza to be a traitor, and then Michael thought sadly it was only impossible because he didn't want Clemenza to die. The fat man had always brought him gifts when he was growing up, had sometimes taken him on outings (загородные прогулки) when the Don had been too busy. He could not believe that Clemenza was guilty of treachery (виновен в предательстве; treachery [‘tret∫∂rı] – вероломство, измена).

But, on the other hand, Sollozzo would want Clemenza in his pocket more than any other man in the Corleone Family.

Michael thought about Paulie Gatto. Paulie as yet had not become rich. He was well thought of (о нем хорошо позаботились), his rise in the organization was certain but he would have to put in his time like everybody else. Also he would have wilder dreams of power, as the young always do. It had to be Paulie. And then Michael remembered that in the sixth grade (в шестом классе) he and Paulie had been in the same class in school and he didn't want it to be Paulie either.

He shook his head. "Neither one of them," he said. But he said it only because Sonny had said he had the answer. If it had been a vote (голосование), he would have voted Paulie guilty.

Sonny was smiling at him. "Don't worry," he said. "Clemenza is OK. It's Paulie."

Michael could see that Tessio was relieved. As a fellow caporegime his sympathy would be with Clemenza. Also the present situation was not so serious if treachery did not reach so high. Tessio said cautiously (cautious ['ko:∫∂s] – осторожный), "Then I can send my people home tomorrow?"

Sonny said, "The day after tomorrow. I don't want anybody to know about this until then. Listen, I want to talk some family business with my brother, personal. Wait out in the living room, eh? We can finish our list later. You and Clemenza will work together on it."

"Sure," Tessio said. He went out.

"How do you know for sure it's Paulie?" Michael asked.

Sonny said, "We have people in the telephone company and they tracked down (проследили, восстановили) all of Paulie's phone calls in and out Clemenza's too. On the three days Paulie was sick this month he got a call from a street booth across from the old man's building. Today too. They were checking to see if Paulie was coming down or somebody was being sent down to take his place. Or for some other reason. It doesn't matter." Sonny shrugged. "Thank God it was Paulie. We'll need Clemenza bad (он нам очень будет нужен)."

Michael asked hesitantly (hesitant [‘hezıt∂nt] – колеблющийся, нерешительный, сомневающийся), "Is it going to be an all-out war?"

Sonny's eyes were hard. "That's how I'm going to play it as soon as Tom checks in. Until the old man tells me different."

Michael asked, "So why don't you wait until the old man can tell you?"

Sonny looked at him curiously. "How the hell did you win those combat medals (боевые медали; combat [‘komb∂t] – бой, сражение)? We are under the gun, man, we gotta fight. I'm just afraid they won't let Tom go."

Michael was surprised at this. "Why not?"

Again Sonny's voice was patient "They snatched Tom because they figured the old man was finished and they could make a deal with me and Tom would be the sit-down guy in the preliminary stages (парень для переговоров на предварительных стадиях [prı'lımın∂rı]), carry the proposition. Now with the old man alive they know I can't make a deal so Tom's no good to them. They can turn him loose or dump him (прикончить /сленг/; dump – мусорная куча, отвал /земли, руды/; to dump – выгружать, сваливать), depending how Sollozzo feels. If they dump him, it would be just to show us they really mean business, trying to bulldoze us (запугать; to bulldoze [‘buld∂uz] – разбивать крупные куски /руды/; расчищать при помощи бульдозера; запугивать, шантажировать /сленг/)."

Michael said quietly, "What think he could get a deal with you?"

Sonny flushed and he didn't answer for a moment. Then he said, "We had a meeting a few months ago, Sollozzo came to us with a proposition on drugs. The old man turned him down (отклонил). But during the meeting I shot off my mouth a little (проболтался; to shot off – стрелять в воздух, пускать /фейерверк, ракету/), I showed I wanted the deal. Which is absolutely the wrong thing to do; if there's one thing the old man hammered into me (вбивал, вколачивал; hammer – молоток) it's never to do a thing like that, to let other people know there's a split of opinion (разделение мнений, расхождение во мнениях; to split – раскалывать, расщеплять) in the Family. So Sollozzo figures he gets rid of the old man (воображает, что если избавится), I have to go in with him on the drugs. With the old man gone, the Family power is cut at least in half. I would be fighting for my life anyway to keep all the businesses the old man got together. Drugs are the coming thing, we should get into it. And his knocking off the old man is purely business, nothing personal. As a matter of business I would go in with him. Of course he would never let me get too close, he'd make sure I'd never get a clean shot at him, just in case (на всякий случай). But he also knows that once I accepted the deal the other Families would never let me start a war a couple of years later just for revenge. Also, the Tattaglia Family is behind him."

"If they had gotten the old man, what would you have done?" Michael asked.

Sonny said very simply, "Sollozzo is dead meat. I don't care what it costs. I don't care if we have to fight all the five families in New York. The Tattaglia Family is going to be wiped out (будет истреблена; to wipe – стирать; уничтожать; убивать /сленг/). I don't care if we all go down together (если все, пусть даже мы все загнемся)."

Michael said softly, "That's not how Pop would have played it."

Sonny made a violent gesture (violent – неистовый, вспыльчивый). "I know I'm not the man he was. But I'll tell you this and he'll tell you too. When it comes to real action I can operate as good as anybody, short-range (в ближнем бою: «в малом радиусе действия»). Sollozzo knows that and so do Clemenza and Tessio, I 'made my bones' when I was nineteen, the last time the Family had a war, and I was a big help to the old man. So I'm not worried now. And our Family has all the horses in a deal like this. I just wish we could get contact with Luca."

Michael asked curiously, "Is Luca that tough (действительно настолько крутой), like they say? Is he that good?"

Sonny nodded. "He's in a class by himself. I’m going to send him after the three Tattaglias. I'll get Sollozzo myself."

Michael shifted uneasily in his chair (задвигался, заерзал беспокойно). He looked at his older brother. He remembered Sonny as being sometimes casually brutal (подчас жесток, груб) but essentially warmhearted (по сути, в основе своей добр). A nice guy. It seemed unnatural to hear him talking this way, it was chilling (жутко; to chill – замораживать, охлаждать) to see the list of names he had scribbled down (набросал; to scribble – писать неразборчивым почерком, небрежно), men to be executed (которые должны быть казнены), as if he were some newly crowned Roman Emperor. He was glad that he was not truly part of all this, that now his father lived he did not have to involve himself in vengeance (месть, мщение ['vendG∂ns]). He'd help out, answering the phone, running errands (бегая по поручениям) and messages. Sonny and the old man could take care of themselves, especially with Luca behind them.

At that moment they heard a woman scream in the living room. Oh, Christ, Michael thought, it sounded like Tom's wife. He rushed to the door and opened it. Everybody in the living room was standing. And by the sofa Tom Hagen was holding Theresa close to him, his face embarrassed (смущенное). Theresa was weeping and sobbing, and Michael realized that the scream he had heard had been her calling out her husband's name with joy. As he watched, Tom Hagen disentangled himself from his wife's arms (освободился: «выпутался»; entangle [ın'tæŋgl] – запутывать, сплетаться; tangle – запутанный клубок) and lowered her back onto the sofa. He smiled at Michael grimly (мрачно). "Glad to see you, Mike, really glad." He strode (to stride – идти большими шагами, быстрой походкой) into the office without another look at his still-sobbing wife. He hadn't lived with the Corleone Family ten years for nothing (недаром, не бесследно прожил), Michael thought with a queer flush of pride. Some of the old man had rubbed off on him (что-то перешло к нему от старика, какой-то налет остался; to rub – тереть; to rub off – стирать), as it had on Sonny, and he thought, with surprise, even on himself.

When Michael Corleone arrived at his father's house in Long Beach he found the narrow entrance mouth of the mall blocked off with a link chain. The mall itself was bright with the floodlights of all eight houses, outlining at least ten cars parked along the curving cement walk.

Two men he didn't know were leaning against the chain. One of them asked in a Brooklyn accent, "Who're you?"

He told them. Another man came out of the nearest house and peered at his face. "That's the Don's kid," he said. "I'll bring him inside." Mike followed this man to his father's house, where two men at the door let him and his escort pass inside.

The house seemed to be full of men he didn't know, until he went into the living room. There Michael saw Tom Hagen's wife, Theresa, sitting stiffly on the sofa, smoking a cigarette. On the coffee table in front of her was a glass of whiskey. On the other side of the sofa sat the bulky Clemenza. The caporegime's face was impassive, but he was sweating and the cigar in his hand glistened slickly black with his saliva.

Clemenza came to wring his hand in a consoling way, muttering, "Your mother is at the hospital with your father, he's going to be all right." Paulie Gatto stood up to shake hands. Michael looked at him curiously. He knew Paulie was his father's bodyguard but did not know that Paulie had stayed home sick that day. But he sensed tension in the thin dark face. He knew Gatto's reputation as an up-and-coming man, a very quick man who knew how to get delicate jobs done without complications, and today he had failed in his duty. He noticed several other men in the corners of the room but he did not recognize them. They were not of Clemenza's people. Michael put these facts together and understood. Clemenza and Gatto were suspect. Thinking that Paulie had been at the scene, he asked the ferret-faced young man, "How is Freddie? He OK?"

"The doctor gave him a shot," Clemenza said. "He's sleeping."

Michael went to Hagen's wife and bent down to kiss her cheek. They had always liked each other. He whispered, "Don't worry, Tom will be OK. Have you talked to Sonny yet?"

Theresa clung to him for a moment and shook her head. She was a delicate, very pretty woman, more American than Italian, and very scared. He took her hand and lifted her off the sofa. Then he led her into his father's corner room office.

Sonny was sprawled out in his chair behind the desk holding a yellow pad in one hand and a pencil in the other. The only other man in the room with him was the caporegime Tessio, whom Michael recognized and immediately realized that it must be his men who were in the house and forming the new palace guard. He too had a pencil and pad in his hands.

When Sonny saw them he came from behind his desk and took Hagen's wife in his arms. "Don't worry, Theresa," he said. "Tom's OK. They just wanta give him the proposition, they said they'd turn him loose (отпустят). He's not on the operating end, he's just our lawyer. There's no reason for anybody to do him harm."

He released Theresa and then to Michael's surprise he too, got a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He pushed Sonny away and said grinning, "After I get used to you beating me up I gotta put up with this?" They had often fought when they were younger.

Sonny shrugged. "Listen, kid, I was worried when I couldn't get ahold of you in that hick town. Not that I gave a crap if they knocked you off, but I didn't like the idea of bringing the news to the old lady. I had to tell her about Pop."

"How'd she take it?" Michael asked.

"Good," Sonny said. "She's been through it before. Me too. You were too young to know about it and then things got pretty smooth while you were growing up." He paused and then said, "She's down at the hospital with the old man. He's gonna pull through."

"How about us going down?" Michael asked.

Sonny shook his head and said dryly, "I can't leave this house until it's all over." The phone rang. Sonny picked it up and listened intently. While he was listening Michael sauntered over to the desk and glanced down at the yellow pad Sonny had been writing on. There was a list of seven names. The first three were Sollozzo, Phillip Tattaglia, and John Tattaglia. It struck Michael with full force that he had interrupted Sonny and Tessio as they were making up a list of men to be killed.

When Sonny hung up the phone he said to Theresa Hagen and Michael, "Can you two wait outside? I got some business with Tessio we have to finish."

Hagen's wife said, "Was that call about Tom?" She said it almost truculently but she was weeping with fright. Sonny put his arm around her and led her to the door. "I swear he's going to be OK," he said. "Wait in the living room. I'll come out as soon as I hear something." He shut the door behind her. Michael had sat down in one of the big leather armchairs. Sonny gave him a quick sharp look and then went to sit down behind the desk.

"You hang around me, Mike," he said, "you're gonna hear things you don't wanta hear."

Michael lit a cigarette. "I can help out," he said.

"No, you can't," Sonny said. "The old man would be sore as hell if I let you get mixed up in this."

Michael stood up and yelled. "You lousy bastard, he's my father. I'm not supposed to help him? I can help. I don't have to go out and kill people but I can help. Stop treating me like a kid brother. I was in the war. I got shot, remember? I killed some Japs. What the hell do you think I'll do when you knock somebody off? Faint?"

Sonny grinned at him. "Pretty soon you'll want me to put up my dukes. OK, stick around, you can handle the phone." He turned to Tessio. "That call I just got gave me dope we needed." He turned to Michael. "Somebody had to finger the old man. It could have been Clemenza, it could have been Paulie Gatto, who was very conveniently sick today. I know the answer now, let's see how smart you are, Mike, you're the college boy. Who sold out to Sollozzo?"

Michael sat down again and relaxed back into the leather armchair. He thought everything over very carefully. Clemenza was a caporegime in the Corleone Family structure. Don Corleone had made him a millionaire and they had been intimate friends for over twenty years. He held one of the most powerful posts in the organization. What could Clemenza gain for betraying his Don? More money? He was rich enough but then men are always greedy. More power? Revenge for some fancied insult or slight? That Hagen had been made the Consigliori? Or perhaps a businessman's conviction that Sollozzo would win out? No, it was impossible for Clemenza to be a traitor, and then Michael thought sadly it was only impossible because he didn't want Clemenza to die. The fat man had always brought him gifts when he was growing up, had sometimes taken him on outings when the Don had been too busy. He could not believe that Clemenza was guilty of treachery.

But, on the other hand, Sollozzo would want Clemenza in his pocket more than any other man in the Corleone Family.

Michael thought about Paulie Gatto. Paulie as yet had not become rich. He was well thought of, his rise in the organization was certain but he would have to put in his time like everybody else. Also he would have wilder dreams of power, as the young always do. It had to be Paulie. And then Michael remembered that in the sixth grade he and Paulie had been in the same class in school and he didn't want it to be Paulie either.

He shook his head. "Neither one of them," he said. But he said it only because Sonny had said he had the answer. If it had been a vote, he would have voted Paulie guilty.

Sonny was smiling at him. "Don't worry," he said. "Clemenza is OK. It's Paulie."

Michael could see that Tessio was relieved. As a fellow caporegime his sympathy would be with Clemenza. Also the present situation was not so serious if treachery did not reach so high. Tessio said cautiously, "Then I can send my people home tomorrow?"

Sonny said, "The day after tomorrow. I don't want anybody to know about this until then. Listen, I want to talk some family business with my brother, personal. Wait out in the living room, eh? We can finish our list later. You and Clemenza will work together on it."

"Sure," Tessio said. He went out.

"How do you know for sure it's Paulie?" Michael asked.

Sonny said, "We have people in the telephone company and they tracked down all of Paulie's phone calls in and out Clemenza's too. On the three days Paulie was sick this month he got a call from a street booth across from the old man's building. Today too. They were checking to see if Paulie was coming down or somebody was being sent down to take his place. Or for some other reason. It doesn't matter." Sonny shrugged. "Thank God it was Paulie. We'll need Clemenza bad."

Michael asked hesitantly, "Is it going to be an all-out war?"

Sonny's eyes were hard. "That's how I'm going to play it as soon as Tom checks in. Until the old man tells me different."

Michael asked, "So why don't you wait until the old man can tell you?"

Sonny looked at him curiously. "How the hell did you win those combat medals? We are under the gun, man, we gotta fight. I'm just afraid they won't let Tom go."

Michael was surprised at this. "Why not?"

Again Sonny's voice was patient "They snatched Tom because they figured the old man was finished and they could make a deal with me and Tom would be the sit-down guy in the preliminary stages, carry the proposition. Now with the old man alive they know I can't make a deal so Tom's no good to them. They can turn him loose or dump him, depending how Sollozzo feels. If they dump him, it would be just to show us they really mean business, trying to bulldoze us."

Michael said quietly, "What think he could get a deal with you?"

Sonny flushed and he didn't answer for a moment. Then he said, "We had a meeting a few months ago, Sollozzo came to us with a proposition on drugs. The old man turned him down. But during the meeting I shot off my mouth a little, I showed I wanted the deal. Which is absolutely the wrong thing to do; if there's one thing the old man hammered into me it's never to do a thing like that, to let other people know there's a split of opinion in the Family. So Sollozzo figures he gets rid of the old man, I have to go in with him on the drugs. With the old man gone, the Family power is cut at least in half. I would be fighting for my life anyway to keep all the businesses the old man got together. Drugs are the coming thing, we should get into it. And his knocking off the old man is purely business, nothing personal. As a matter of business I would go in with him. Of course he would never let me get too close, he'd make sure I'd never get a clean shot at him, just in case. But he also knows that once I accepted the deal the other Families would never let me start a war a couple of years later just for revenge. Also, the Tattaglia Family is behind him."

"If they had gotten the old man, what would you have done?" Michael asked.

Sonny said very simply, "Sollozzo is dead meat. I don't care what it costs. I don't care if we have to fight all the five families in New York. The Tattaglia Family is going to be wiped out. I don't care if we all go down together."

Michael said softly, "That's not how Pop would have played it."

Sonny made a violent gesture. "I know I'm not the man he was. But I'll tell you this and he'll tell you too. When it comes to real action I can operate as good as anybody, short-range. Sollozzo knows that and so do Clemenza and Tessio, I 'made my bones' when I was nineteen, the last time the Family had a war, and I was a big help to the old man. So I'm not worried now. And our Family has all the horses in a deal like this. I just wish we could get contact with Luca."

Michael asked curiously, "Is Luca that tough, like they say? Is he that good?"

Sonny nodded. "He's in a class by himself. I’m going to send him after the three Tattaglias. I'll get Sollozzo myself."

Michael shifted uneasily in his chair. He looked at his older brother. He remembered Sonny as being sometimes casually brutal but essentially warmhearted. A nice guy. It seemed unnatural to hear him talking this way, it was chilling to see the list of names he had scribbled down, men to be executed, as if he were some newly crowned Roman Emperor. He was glad that he was not truly part of all this, that now his father lived he did not have to involve himself in vengeance. He'd help out, answering the phone, running errands and messages. Sonny and the old man could take care of themselves, especially with Luca behind them.

At that moment they heard a woman scream in the living room. Oh, Christ, Michael thought, it sounded like Tom's wife. He rushed to the door and opened it. Everybody in the living room was standing. And by the sofa Tom Hagen was holding Theresa close to him, his face embarrassed. Theresa was weeping and sobbing, and Michael realized that the scream he had heard had been her calling out her husband's name with joy. As he watched, Tom Hagen disentangled himself from his wife's arms and lowered her back onto the sofa. He smiled at Michael grimly. "Glad to see you, Mike, really glad." He strode into the office without another look at his still-sobbing wife. He hadn't lived with the Corleone Family ten years for nothing, Michael thought with a queer flush of pride. Some of the old man had rubbed off on him, as it had on Sonny, and he thought, with surprise, even on himself.

Chapter 5

It was nearly four o'clock in the morning as they all sat in the corner room office – Sonny, Michael, Tom Hagen, Clemenza and Tessio. Theresa Hagen had been persuaded to go to her own home next door. Paulie Gatto was still waiting in the living room, not knowing that Tessio's men had been instructed not to let him leave or let him out of their sight.

Tom Hagen relayed the deal (передавал, пересказывал) Sollozzo offered. He told how after Sollozzo had learned the Don still lived, it was obvious that he meant to kill Hagen. Hagen grinned. "If I ever plead (защищать интересы подсудимого, выступать в суде с заявлением) before the Supreme Court (Верховный суд /суд первой инстанции в штате Нью-Йорк/; supreme [sju:’pri:m] – высший), I'll never plead better than I did with that goddamn Turk tonight. I told him I'd talk the Family into the deal even though the Don was alive. I told him I could wrap you around my finger (обмотать вокруг пальца), Sonny. How we were buddies (приятелями, дружками) as kids; and don't get sore, but I let him get the idea that maybe you weren't too sorry about getting the old man's job, God forgive me." He smiled apologetically at Sonny, who made a gesture signifying that he understood, that it was of no consequence (не имеет значения, ерунда; consequence ['konsıkw∂ns] – последствие).

Michael, leaning back in his armchair with the phone at his right hand, studied both men. When Hagen had entered the room Sonny had come rushing to embrace him. Michael realized with a faint twinge of jealousy (с легким уколом ревности, зависти; twinge – приступ боли; моральная мука, угрызения) that in many ways Sonny and Tom Hagen were closer than he himself could ever be to his own brother.

"Let's get down to business," Sonny said. "We have to make plans. Take a look at this list me and Tessio made up. Tessio, give Clemenza your copy."

"If we make plans," Michael said, "Freddie should be here."

Sonny said grimly, "Freddie is no use to us. The doctor says he's in shock so bad he has to have complete rest. I don't understand that. Freddie was always a pretty tough guy. I guess seeing the old man gunned down was hard on him, he always thought the Don was God. He wasn't like you and me, Mike."

Hagen said quickly, "OK, leave Freddie out. Leave him out of everything, absolutely everything. Now, Sonny, until this is all over I think you should stay in the house. I mean never leave it. You're safe here. Don't underrate Sollozzo (не недооценивай), he's got to be a pezzonovante, a real .90 caliber. Is the hospital covered (надежно прикрыт = охраняем, следят ли за ним)?"

Sonny nodded. "The cops have it locked in and I got my people there visiting Pop all the time. What do you think of that list, Tom?"

Hagen frowned down at the list of names. "Jesus Christ, Sonny, you're really taking this personal, The Don would consider it a purely business dispute. Sollozzo is the key. Get rid of Sollozzo and everything falls in line (утрясется, придет в норму). You don't have to go after the Tattaglias."

Sonny looked at his two caporegimes. Tessio shrugged. "It's tricky (запутанно = сложное дело, трудно сказать)," he said. Clemenza didn't answer at all.

Sonny said to Clemenza, "One thing we can take care of without discussion. I don't want Paulie around here anymore. Make that first on your list." The fat caporegime nodded.

Hagen said, "What about Luca? Sollozzo didn't seem worried about Luca. That worries me. If Luca sold us out, we're in real trouble. That's the first thing we have to know. Has anybody been able to get in touch with him?"

"No," Sonny said. "I've been calling him all night. Maybe he's shacked up (где-то не у себя, с женщиной сейчас проживает; shack – лачуга, хижина; to shack up – сожительствовать с кем-то /сленг/)."

"No," Hagen said. "He never sleeps over with a broad (никогда не проводит с девкой всю ночь). He always goes home when he's through (закончит). Mike, keep ringing his number until you get an answer." Michael dutifully picked up the phone and dialed. He could hear the phone ringing on the other end but no one answered. Finally he hung up. "Keep trying every fifteen minutes," Hagen said.

Sonny said impatiently, "OK, Tom you're the Consigliori, how about some advice (как насчет какого-нибудь совета)? What the hell do you think we should do?"

Hagen helped himself to the whiskey bottle on the desk. "We negotiate with Sollozzo until your father is in shape to take charge (будет в форме, чтобы взять на себя нагрузку, заботу /обо всем/). We might even make a deal if we have to. When your father gets out of bed he can settle the whole business without a fuss (без суеты, шума, 'базара') and all the Families will go along with him."

Sonny said angrily, "You think I can't handle this guy Sollozzo (не справлюсь)?"

Tom Hagen looked him directly in the eye. "Sonny, sure you can outfight him (победить в бою). The Corleone Family has the power. You have Clemenza and Tessio here and they can muster a thousand men (собрать, созвать) if it comes to an all-out war. But at the end there will be a shambles (бойня; разрушения, руины) over the whole East Coast and all the other Families will blame the Corleones (to blame – винить). We'll make a lot of enemies. And that's something your father never believed in."

Michael, watching Sonny, thought he took this well. But then Sonny said to Hagen, "What if the old man dies, what do you advise then, Consigliori?"

Hagen said quietly, "I know you won't do it, but I would advise you to make a real deal with Sollozzo on the drugs. Without your father's political contacts and personal influence (влияние ['ınflu∂ns]) the Corleone Family loses half its strength. Without your father, the other New York Families might wind up supporting the Tattaglias (кончат тем, что будут поддерживать) and Sollozzo just to make sure there isn't a long destructive war. If your father dies, make the deal. Then wait and see."

Sonny was white-faced with anger. "That's easy for you to say, it's not your father they killed."

Hagen said quickly and proudly, "I was as good a son to him as you or Mike, maybe better. I'm giving you a professional opinion. Personally I want to kill all those bastards." The emotion in his voice shamed Sonny, who said, "Oh, Christ, Tom, I didn't mean it that way." But he had, really. Blood was blood and nothing else was its equal.

Sonny brooded (to brood – сидеть на яйцах, высиживать; размышлять, вынашивать /в уме/) for a moment as the others waited in embarrassed silence. Then he sighed and spoke quietly. "OK, we'll sit tight (будем сидеть тихо) until the old man can give us the lead. But, Tom, I want you to stay inside the mall, too. Don't take any chances (не рискуй). Mike, you be careful, though I don't think even Sollozzo would bring personal family into the war. Everybody would be against him then. But be careful. Tessio, you hold your people in reserve but have them nosing around the city (пусть разнюхивают). Clemenza, after you settle the Paulie Gatto thing, you move your men into the house and the mall to replace Tessio's people. Tessio, you keep your men at the hospital, though. Tom, start negotiation over the phone or by messenger with Sollozzo and the Tattaglias the first thing in the morning. Mike, tomorrow you take a couple of Clemenza's people and go to Luca's house and wait for him to show up or find out where the hell he is. That crazy bastard might be going after Sollozzo right now if he's heard the news. I can't believe he'd ever go against his Don, no matter what the Turk offered him."

Hagen said reluctantly, "Maybe Mike shouldn't get mixed up in this so directly."

"Right," Sonny said. "Forget that, Mike. Anyway I need you on the phone here in the house, that's more important."

Michael didn't say anything. He felt awkward (неловко [‘o:kwed]), almost ashamed (пристыженно), and he noticed Clemenza and Tessio with faces so carefully impassive that he was sure that they were hiding their contempt (скрывали презрение). He picked up the phone and dialed Luca Brasi's number and kept the receiver to his ear as it rang and rang.

It was nearly four o'clock in the morning as they all sat in the corner room office – Sonny, Michael, Tom Hagen, Clemenza and Tessio. Theresa Hagen had been persuaded to go to her own home next door. Paulie Gatto was still waiting in the living room, not knowing that Tessio's men had been instructed not to let him leave or let him out of their sight.

Tom Hagen relayed the deal Sollozzo offered. He told how after Sollozzo had learned the Don still lived, it was obvious that he meant to kill Hagen. Hagen grinned. "If I ever plead before the Supreme Court, I'll never plead better than I did with that goddamn Turk tonight. I told him I'd talk the Family into the deal even though the Don was alive. I told him I could wrap you around my finger, Sonny. How we were buddies as kids; and don't get sore, but I let him get the idea that maybe you weren't too sorry about getting the old man's job, God forgive me." He smiled apologetically at Sonny, who made a gesture signifying that he understood, that it was of no consequence.

Michael, leaning back in his armchair with the phone at his right hand, studied both men. When Hagen had entered the room Sonny had come rushing to embrace him. Michael realized with a faint twinge of jealousy that in many ways Sonny and Tom Hagen were closer than he himself could ever be to his own brother.

"Let's get down to business," Sonny said. "We have to make plans. Take a look at this list me and Tessio made up. Tessio, give Clemenza your copy."

"If we make plans," Michael said, "Freddie should be here."

Sonny said grimly, "Freddie is no use to us. The doctor says he's in shock so bad he has to have complete rest. I don't understand that. Freddie was always a pretty tough guy. I guess seeing the old man gunned down was hard on him, he always thought the Don was God. He wasn't like you and me, Mike."

Hagen said quickly, "OK, leave Freddie out. Leave him out of everything, absolutely everything. Now, Sonny, until this is all over I think you should stay in the house. I mean never leave it. You're safe here. Don't underrate Sollozzo, he's got to be a pezzonovante, a real .90 caliber. Is the hospital covered?"

Sonny nodded. "The cops have it locked in and I got my people there visiting Pop all the time. What do you think of that list, Tom?"

Hagen frowned down at the list of names. "Jesus Christ, Sonny, you're really taking this personal, The Don would consider it a purely business dispute. Sollozzo is the key. Get rid of Sollozzo and everything falls in line. You don't have to go after the Tattaglias."

Sonny looked at his two caporegimes. Tessio shrugged. "It's tricky," he said. Clemenza didn't answer at all.

Sonny said to Clemenza, "One thing we can take care of without discussion. I don't want Paulie around here anymore. Make that first on your list." The fat caporegime nodded.

Hagen said, "What about Luca? Sollozzo didn't seem worried about Luca. That worries me. If Luca sold us out, we're in real trouble. That's the first thing we have to know. Has anybody been able to get in touch with him?"

"No," Sonny said. "I've been calling him all night. Maybe he's shacked up."

"No," Hagen said. "He never sleeps over with a broad. He always goes home when he's through. Mike, keep ringing his number until you get an answer." Michael dutifully picked up the phone and dialed. He could hear the phone ringing on the other end but no one answered. Finally he hung up. "Keep trying every fifteen minutes," Hagen said.

Sonny said impatiently, "OK, Tom you're the Consigliori, how about some advice? What the hell do you think we should do?"

Hagen helped himself to the whiskey bottle on the desk. "We negotiate with Sollozzo until your father is in shape to take charge. We might even make a deal if we have to. When your father gets out of bed he can settle the whole business without a fuss and all the Families will go along with him."

Sonny said angrily, "You think I can't handle this guy Sollozzo?"

Tom Hagen looked him directly in the eye. "Sonny, sure you can outfight him. The Corleone Family has the power. You have Clemenza and Tessio here and they can muster a thousand men if it comes to an all-out war. But at the end there will be a shambles over the whole East Coast and all the other Families will blame the Corleones. We'll make a lot of enemies. And that's something your father never believed in."

Michael, watching Sonny, thought he took this well. But then Sonny said to Hagen, "What if the old man dies, what do you advise then, Consigliori?"

Hagen said quietly, "I know you won't do it, but I would advise you to make a real deal with Sollozzo on the drugs. Without your father's political contacts and personal influence the Corleone Family loses half its strength. Without your father, the other New York Families might wind up supporting the Tattaglias and Sollozzo just to make sure there isn't a long destructive war. If your father dies, make the deal. Then wait and see."

Sonny was white-faced with anger. "That's easy for you to say, it's not your father they killed."

Hagen said quickly and proudly, "I was as good a son to him as you or Mike, maybe better. I'm giving you a professional opinion. Personally I want to kill all those bastards." The emotion in his voice shamed Sonny, who said, "Oh, Christ, Tom, I didn't mean it that way." But he had, really. Blood was blood and nothing else was its equal.

Sonny brooded for a moment as the others waited in embarrassed silence. Then he sighed and spoke quietly. "OK, we'll sit tight until the old man can give us the lead. But, Tom, I want you to stay inside the mall, too. Don't take any chances. Mike, you be careful, though I don't think even Sollozzo would bring personal family into the war. Everybody would be against him then. But be careful. Tessio, you hold your people in reserve but have them nosing around the city. Clemenza, after you settle the Paulie Gatto thing, you move your men into the house and the mall to replace Tessio's people. Tessio, you keep your men at the hospital, though. Tom, start negotiation over the phone or by messenger with Sollozzo and the Tattaglias the first thing in the morning. Mike, tomorrow you take a couple of Clemenza's people and go to Luca's house and wait for him to show up or find out where the hell he is. That crazy bastard might be going after Sollozzo right now if he's heard the news. I can't believe he'd ever go against his Don, no matter what the Turk offered him."

Hagen said reluctantly, "Maybe Mike shouldn't get mixed up in this so directly."

"Right," Sonny said. "Forget that, Mike. Anyway I need you on the phone here in the house, that's more important."