Before, in terrible pain, yet smiled benevolently on his youngest son, wanting to

tell him, but it was too much effort, "Why should I be afraid now? Strange men

have come to kill me ever since I was twelve years old."

 

 

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внизу страницы.)

 

 

Chapter 10

 

 

The hospital was small and private with just one entrance. Michael looked through the

window down into the street. There was a curved courtyard that had steps leading down

into the street and the street was empty of cars. But whoever came into the hospital

would have to come through that entrance. He knew he didn't have much time so he ran

out of the room and down the four flights and through the wide doors of the ground floor

entrance. Off to the side he saw the ambulance yard and there was no car there, no

ambulances either.

Michael stood on the sidewalk outside the hospital and lit a cigarette. He unbuttoned

his coat and stood in the light of a lamppost so that his features could be seen. A young

man was walking swiftly down from Ninth Avenue, a package under his arm. The young

man wore a combat jacket and had a heavy shock (копна, скирда) of black hair. His

face was familiar when he came under the lamplight but Michael could not place it. But

 

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the young man stopped in front of him and put out his hand, saying in a heavy Italian

accent, "Don Michael, do you remember me? Enzo, the baker's helper to Nazorine the

Paniterra; his son-in-law. Your father saved my life by getting the government to let me

stay in America."

Michael shook his hand. He remembered him now. Enzo went on, "I've come to pay

my respects to your father. Will they let me into the hospital so late?"

Michael smiled and shook his head. "No, but thanks anyway. I'll tell the Don you

came." A car came roaring down the street and Michael was instantly alert. He said to

Enzo, "Leave here quickly. There may be trouble. You don't want to get involved with

the police."

He saw the look of fear on the young Italian's face. Trouble with the police might

mean being deported or refusal of citizenship. But the young man stood fast. He

whispered in Italian. "If there's trouble I'll stay to help. I owe it to the Godfather."

Michael was touched. He was about to tell the young man to go away again, but then

he thought, why not let him stay? Two men in front of the hospital might scare off any of

Sollozzo's crew sent to do a job. One man almost certainly would not. He gave Enzo a

cigarette and lit it for him. They both stood under the lamppost in the cold December

night. The yellow panes (pane – оконное стекло; панель) of the hospital, bisected

(разделенные, разрезанные надвое) by the greens of Christmas decorations,

twinkled down on them. They had almost finished their cigarettes when a long low black

car turned into 30th Street from Ninth A venue and cruised (to cruise [kru:z] –

совершать круиз, курсировать; промчаться) toward them, very close to the curb. It

almost stopped. Michael peered to see their faces inside, his body flinching involuntarily.

The car seemed about to stop, then speeded forward. Somebody had recognized him.

Michael gave Enzo another cigarette and noticed that the baker's hands were shaking.

To his surprise his own hands were steady.

They stayed in the street smoking for what was no more than ten minutes when

suddenly the night air was split by a police siren. A patrol car made a screaming turn

from Ninth Avenue and pulled up in front of the hospital. Two more squad (группа,

команда) cars followed right behind it. Suddenly the hospital entranceway was flooded

with uniformed police and detectives. Michael heaved a sigh of relief. Good old Sonny

must have gotten through right away. He moved forward to meet them.

Two huge, burly policemen grabbed his arms. Another frisked him. A massive police

captain, gold braid on his cap, came up the steps, his men parting respectfully to leave

a path. He was a vigorous man for his girth (подпруга; обхват /талии/) and despite the

 

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white hair that peeked out of his cap. His face was beefy red. He came up to Michael

and said harshly, "I thought I got all you guinea hoods locked up. Who the hell are you

and what are you doing here?"

One of the cops standing beside Michael said, "He's clean, Captain."

Michael didn't answer. He was studying this police captain, coldly searching his face,

the metallic blue eyes. A detective in plain clothes said, "That's Michael Corleone, the

Don's son."

Michael said quietly, "What happened to the detectives who were supposed to be

guarding my father? Who pulled them off that detail (наряд, расчет, команда)?"

The police captain was choleric with rage. "You fucking hood, who the hell are you to

tell me my business? I pulled them off. I don't give a shit how many dago (даго –

произвище итальянца, испанца, португальца) gangsters kill each other. If it was up to

me (если бы это зависело от меня), I wouldn't lift a finger to keep your old man from

getting knocked off. Now get the hell out of here. Get out of this street, you punk, and

stay out of this hospital when it's not visiting hours."

Michael was still studying him intently. He was not angry at what this police captain

was saying. His mind was racing furiously. Was it possible that Sollozzo had been in

that first car and had seen him standing in front of the hospital? Was it possible that

Sollozzo had then called this captain and said, "How come the Corleones' men are still

around the hospital when I paid you to lock them up?" Was it possible that all had been

carefully planned as Sonny had said? Everything fitted in. Still cool, he said to the

captain, "I'm not leaving this hospital until you put guards around my father's room."

The captain didn't bother answering. He said to the detective standing beside him, "Phil,

lock this punk up."

The detective said hesitantly, "The kid is clean, Captain. He's a war hero and he's never

been mixed up in the rackets. The papers could make a stink."

The captain started to turn on the detective, his face red with fury. He roared out,

"Goddamn it, I said lock him up."

Michael, still thinking clearly, not angry, said with deliberate malice (злоба ['mжlıs]),

"How much is the Turk paying you to set my father up, Captain?"

The police captain turned to him. He said to the two burly patrolmen, "Hold him."

Michael felt his arms pinned to his sides. He saw the captain's massive fist arching

(arch – дуга; to arch – изгибаться дугой) toward his face. He tried to weave away

(отклониться; to weave – ткать, плести; качаться, отклоняться) but the fist caught

him high on the cheekbone. A grenade exploded in his skull. His mouth filled with blood

 

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and small hard bones that he realized were his teeth. He could feel the side of his head

puff up as if it were filling with air. His legs were weightless and he would have fallen if

the two policemen had not held him up. But he was still conscious. The plainclothes

detective had stepped in front of him to keep the captain from hitting him again and was

saying, "Jesus Christ, Captain, you really hurt him."

The captain said loudly, "I didn't touch him. He attacked me and he fell. Do you

understand that? He resisted arrest."

Through a red haze (легкий туман, дымка) Michael could see more cars pulling up to

the curb. Men were getting out. One of them he recognized as Clemenza's lawyer, who

was now speaking to the police captain, suavely (suave [swα:v] – учтивый,

обходительный) and surely. "The Corleone Family has hired a firm of private

detectives to guard Mr. Corleone. These men with me are licensed to carry firearms,

Captain. If you arrest them, you'll have to appear before a judge in the morning and tell

him why."

The lawyer glanced at Michael. "Do you want to prefer (выдвинуть /требование,

обвинение/) charges (обвинения) against whoever did this to you?" he asked.

Michael had trouble talking. His jaws wouldn't come together but he managed to

mumble. "I slipped," he said. "I slipped and fell." He saw the captain give him a

triumphant glance and he tried to answer that glance with a smile. At all costs he

wanted to hide the delicious icy chilliness that controlled his brain, the surge of wintry

cold hatred that pervaded his body. He wanted to give no warning to anyone in this

world as to how he felt at this moment. As the Don would not. Then he felt himself

carried into the hospital and he lost consciousness.

 

 

When he woke up in the morning he found that his jaw had been wired together and

that four of his teeth along the left side of his mouth were missing. Hagen was sitting

beside his bed.

"Did they drug me up?" Michael asked.

"Yeah," Hagen said. "They had to dig some bone fragments out of your gums (десны)

and they figured it would be too painful. Besides you were practically out anyway."

"Is there anything else wrong with me?" Michael asked.

"No," Hagen said. "Sonny wants you out at the Long Beach house. Think you can

make it?"

"Sure," Michael said. "Is the Don all right?"

 

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Hagen flushed. "I think we've solved the problem now. We have a firm of private

detectives and we have the whole area loaded. I'll tell you more when we get in the car."

Clemenza was driving, Michael and Hagen sat in the back. Michael's head throbbed

(to throb – сильно биться, пульсировать). "So what the hell really happened last night,

did you guys ever find out?"

Hagen spoke quietly. "Sonny has an inside man, that Detective Phillips who tried to

protect you. He gave us the scoop (лопатка, совок, черпак; сенсационная новость;

здесь – информация). The police captain, McCluskey, is a guy who's been on the take

(to be on the take – брать взятки) very heavy ever since he's been a patrolman. Our

Family has paid him quite a bit. And he's greedy and untrustworthy (ненадежный, не

заслуживающий доверия) to do business with. But Sollozzo must have paid him a big

price. McCluskey had all Tessio's men around and in the hospital arrested right after

visiting hours. It didn't help that some of them were carrying guns. Then McCluskey

pulled the official guard detectives off the Don's door. Claimed he needed them and that

some other cops were supposed to go over and take their place but they got their

assignments bollixed (to bollix – испортить, изгадить /напр. работу/). Baloney (вздор,

чепуха /сленг/ [b∂'l∂unı]). He was paid off to set the Don up. And Phillips said he's the

kind of guy who'll try it again. Sollozzo must have given him a fortune for openers and

promised him the moon to come."

"Was my getting hurt in the papers?"

"No," Hagen said. "We kept that quiet. Nobody wants that known. Not the cops. Not

us."

"Good," Michael said. "Did that boy Enzo get away?"

"Yeah," Hagen said. "He was smarter than you. When the cops came he disappeared.

He claims he stuck with you while Sollozzo's car went by. Is that true?"

"Yeah," Michael said. "He's a good kid."

"He'll be taken care of," Hagen said. "You feeling OK?" His face was concerned. "You

look lousy (паршиво, отвратительно: «вшиво»)."

"I'm OK," Michael said. "What was that police captain's' name?"

"McCluskey," Hagen said. "By the way, it might make you feel better to know that the

Corleone Family finally got up on the scoreboard (на табло; score – зарубка; счет

очков). Bruno Tattaglia, four o'clock this morning."

Michael sat up. "How come (как так)? I thought we were supposed to sit tight."

Hagen shrugged. "After what happened at the hospital Sonny got hard. The button

men are out all over New York and New Jersey. We made the list last night. I'm trying to

 

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hold Sonny in, Mike. Maybe you can talk to him. This whole business can still be settled

without a major war."

"I'll talk to him," Michael said. "Is there a conference this morning?"

"Yeah," Hagen said. "Sollozzo finally got in touch and wants to sit down with us. A

negotiator is arranging the details. That means we win. Sollozzo knows he's lost and he

wants to get out with his life." Hagen paused. "Maybe he thought we were soft, ready to

be taken, because we didn't strike back. Now with one of the Tattaglia sons dead he

knows we mean business. He really took an awful gamble bucking (to buck –

становиться на дыбы, взбрыкивать /пытаясь сбросить седока/) the Don. By the way,

we got the confirmation on Luca. They killed him the night before they shot your father.

In Bruno's nightclub. Imagine that?"

Michael said, "No wonder they caught him off guard."

 

 

At the houses in Long Beach the entrance to the mall was blocked by a long black car

parked across its mouth. Two men leaned against the hood (капюшон; капот

/автомобиля/) of the car. The two houses on each side, Michael noticed, had opened

windows on their upper floors. Christ, Sonny must really mean business.

Clemenza parked the car outside the mall and they walked inside it. The two guards

were Clemenza's men and he gave them a frown of greeting that served as a salute.

The men nodded their heads in acknowledgment. There were no smiles, no greetings.

Clemenza led Hagen and Michael Corleone into the house.

The door was opened by another guard before they rang. He had obviously been

watching from a window.

They went to the corner office and found Sonny and Tessio waiting for them. Sonny

came to Michael, took his younger brother's head in his hands and said kiddingly,

"Beautiful. Beautiful." Michael knocked his hands away, and went to the desk and

poured himself some scotch, hoping it would dull the ache (притупит боль; ache [eık])

in his wired jaw.

The five of them sat around the room but the atmosphere was different than their

earlier meetings. Sonny was gayer, more cheerful, and Michael realized what that

gaiety meant. There were no longer any doubts in his older brother's mind. He was

committed (принял решение, ввязался) and nothing would sway (поколебать) him.

The attempt by Sollozzo the night before was the final straw (последней соломинкой =

последней каплей). There could no longer be any question of a truce (перемирие).

 

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"We got a call from the negotiator while you were gone," Sonny said to Hagen. "The

Turk wants a meeting now." Sonny laughed. "The balls on that son of a bitch," he said

admiringly. "After he craps out (to crap out – проигрывать; crap – дерьмо; to crap –

изгадить, испортить) last night he wants a meeting today or the next day. Meanwhile

we're supposed just to lay back and take everything he dishes out (предложит; to dish

– подавать еду, раскладывать по тарелкам). What fucking nerve."

Tom asked cautiously. "What did you answer?"

Sonny grinned. "I said sure, why not? Anytime he says, I'm in no hurry. I've got a

hundred button men out on the street twenty-four hours a day. If Sollozzo shows one

hair on his asshole he's dead. Let them take all the time they want."

Hagen said, "Was there a definite proposal?"

"Yeah," Sonny said. "He wants us to send Mike to meet him to hear his proposition.

The negotiator guarantees Mike's safety. Sollozzo doesn't ask us to guarantee his

safety, he knows he can't ask that. No point. So the meeting will be arranged on his side.

His people will pick Mike up and take Mike to the meeting place. Mike will listen to

Sollozzo and then they'll turn him loose. But the meeting place is secret. The promise is

the deal will be so good we can't turn it down."

Hagen asked, "What about the Tattaglias! What will they do about Bruno?"

"That's part of the deal. The negotiator says the Tattaglia Family has agreed to go

along with Sollozzo. They'll forget about Bruno Tattaglia. He pays for what they did to

my father. One cancels out (to cancel – вычеркивать, аннулировать) the other." Sonny

laughed again. "The nervy (смелый, волевой) bastards."

Hagen said cautiously, "We should hear what they have to say."

Sonny shook his head from side to side. "No, no, Consigliori, not this time." His voice

held a faint trace of Italian accent. He was consciously mocking his father just to kid

around (высмеивать, подшучивать). "No more meetings. No more discussions. No

more Sollozzo tricks. When the negotiator gets in touch with us again for our answer I

want you to give him one message. I want Sollozzo. If not, it's all-out war. We'll go to the

mattresses and we'll put all the button men out on the street. Business will just have to

suffer."

"The other Families won't stand for an all-out war," Hagen said. "It puts too much heat

on everybody."

Sonny shrugged. "They have a simple solution (решение /проблемы/). Give me

Sollozzo. Or fight the Corleone Family." Sonny paused, then said roughly, "No more

 

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advice on how to patch it up (patch – клочок, лоскут; to patch up – латать, ставить

заплаты), Tom. The decision is made. Your job is to help me win. Understand?"

Hagen bowed his head. He was deep in thought for a moment. Then he said, "I spoke

to your contact in the police station. He says that Captain McCluskey is definitely on

Sollozzo's payroll and for big money. Not only that, but McCluskey is going to get a

piece of the drug operation. McCluskey has agreed to be Sollozzo's bodyguard. The

Turk doesn't poke his nose out of his hole without McCluskey. When he meets Mike for

the conference, McCluskey will be sitting beside him. In civilian clothes but carrying his

gun. Now what you have to understand, Sonny, is that while Sollozzo is guarded like

this, he's invulnerable. Nobody has ever gunned down a New York police captain and

gotten away with it. The heat in this town would be unbearable what with the

newspapers, the whole police department, the churches, everything. That would be

disastrous. The Families would be after you. The Corleone Family would become

outcasts. Even the old man's political protection would run for cover. So take that into

consideration (прими в расчет, в размышление)."

Sonny shrugged. "McCluskey can't stay with the Turk forever. We'll wait."

Tessio and Clemenza were puffing on their cigars uneasily, not daring to speak, but

sweating. It would be their skins that would go on the line if the wrong decision was

made.

Michael spoke for the first time. He asked Hagen, "Can the old man be moved out of

the hospital onto the mall here?"

Hagen shook his head. "That's the first thing I asked. Impossible. He's in very bad

shape. He'll pull through but he needs all kinds of attention, maybe some more surgery

(операция, хирургическое вмешательство). Impossible."

"Then you have to get Sollozzo right away," Michael said. "We can't wait. The guy is

too dangerous. He'll come up with some new idea. Remember, the key is still that he

gets rid of the old man. He knows that. OK, he knows that now it's very tough so he's

willing to take defeat for his life. But if he's going to get killed anyway, he'll have another

crack (нанесет удар) at the Don. And with that police captain helping him who knows

what the hell might happen. We can't take that chance. We have to get Sollozzo right

away."

Sonny was scratching his chin thoughtfully. "You're right, kid," he said. "You got right

to the old nuts (совершенно /сленг/). We can't let Sollozzo get another crack at the old

man."

Hagen said quietly, "What about Captain McCluskey?"

 

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Sonny turned to Michael with an odd little smile. "Yeah, kid, what about that tough

police captain?"

Michael said slowly, "OK, it's an extreme. But there are times when the most extreme

measures are justified (средства оправданы). Let's think now that we have to kill

McCluskey. The way to do it would be to have him heavily implicated so that it's not an

honest police captain doing his duty but a crooked (изогнутый, кривой; искаженный;

добытый нечестным путем) police official mixed up in the rackets who got what was

coming to him, like any crook (крючок, крюк; жулик, ренегат). We have newspaper

people on our payroll we can give that story to with enough proof so that they can back

it up. That should take some of the heat off. How does that sound?" Michael looked

around deferentially (почтительно, с уважением) to the others. Tessio and Clemenza

had gloomy (мрачный) faces and refused to speak. Sonny said with the same odd

smile, "Go on, kid, you're doing great. Out of the mouths of infants (устами

младенца …), as the Don always used to say. Go ahead, Mike, tell us more."

Hagen was smiling too a little and averting his head. Michael flushed. "Well, they want

me to go to a conference with Sollozzo. It will be me, Sollozzo and McCluskey all on our

own. Set up the meeting for two days from now, then get our informers to find out where

the meeting will be held. Insist that it has to be a public place, that I'm not going to let

them take me into any apartments or houses. Let it be a restaurant or a bar at the

height of the dinner hour, something like that, so that I'll feel safe. They'll feel safe too.

Even Sollozzo won't figure that we'll dare to gun the captain. They'll frisk me when I

meet them so I'll have to be clean then, but figure out a way you can get a weapon to

me while I'm meeting them. Then I'll take both of them."

All four heads turned and stared at him. Clemenza and Tessio were gravely

astonished. Hagen looked a little sad but not surprised. He started to speak and thought

better of it. But Sonny, his heavy Cupid's face twitching with mirth (веселье, чувство

веселости), suddenly broke out in loud roars (рев; хохот) of laughter. It was deep belly

laughter, not faking (без притворства; to fake – подделовать, фальсифицировать).

He was really breaking up. He pointed a finger at Michael, trying to speak through

gasps of mirth. "You, the high-class college kid, you never wanted to get mixed up in

the Family business. Now you wanta kill a police captain and the Turk just because you

got your face smashed by McCluskey. You're taking it personal, it's just business and

you're taking it personal. You wanta kill these two guys just because you got slapped in

the face. It was all a lot of crap. All these years it was just a lot of crap."

 

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Clemenza and Tessio, completely misunderstanding, thinking that Sonny was

laughing at his young brother's bravado for making such an offer, were also smiling

broadly and a little patronizingly at Michael. Only Hagen warily (осторожно) kept his

face impassive. Michael looked around at all of them, then stared at Sonny, who still

couldn't stop laughing. " You'll take both of them?" Sonny said. "Hey, kid, they won't give

you medals, they put you in the electric chair. You know that? This is no hero business,

kid, you don't shoot people from a mile away. You shoot when you see the whites of

their eyes like we got taught in school, remember? You gotta stand right next to them

and blow their heads off and their brains get all over your nice Ivy League («Лига

Плюща» – a group of colleges and universities in the northeastern U.S., consisting of

Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Columbia, Dartmouth, Cornell, the University of Pennsylvania,

and Brown, having a reputation for high scholastic achievement and social prestige) suit.

How about that, kid, you wanta do that just because some dumb cop slapped you

around?" He was still laughing.

Michael stood up. "You'd better stop laughing," he said. The change in him was so

extraordinary that the smiles vanished (исчезли) from the faces of Clemenza and

Tessio.

Michael was not tall or heavily built but his presence seemed to radiate danger. In that

moment he was a reincarnation of Don Corleone himself. His eyes had gone a pale tan

and his face was bleached (to bleach – белить, отбеливать; обесцвечивать) of color.

He seemed at any moment about to fling himself on his older and stronger brother.

There was no doubt that if he had had a weapon in his hands Sonny would have been

in danger. Sonny stopped laughing, and Michael said to him in a cold deadly voice,

"Don't you think I can do it, you son of a bitch?"

Sonny had got over his laughing fit (приступ). "I know you can do it," he said. "I wasn't

laughing at what you said. I was just laughing at how funny things turn out. I always said

you were the toughest one in the Family, tougher than the Don himself. You were the

only one who could stand off (держаться на расстоянии; противостоять) the old man.

I remember you when you were a kid. What a temper you had then. Hell, you even used

to fight me and I was a lot older than you. And Freddie had to beat the shit out of you at

least once a week. And now Sollozzo has you figured for the soft touch in the Family

because you let McCluskey hit you without fighting back and you wouldn't get mixed up

in the Family fights. He figures he got nothing to worry about if he meets you head to

head. And McCluskey too, he's got you figured for a yellow guinea." Sonny paused and

then said softly, "But you're a Corleone after all, you son of a bitch. And I was the only

 

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one who knew it. I've been sitting here waiting for the last three days, ever since the old

man got shot, waiting for you to crack out of that Ivy League, war hero bullshit character

you've been wearing. I've been waiting for you to become my right arm so we can kill

those fucks that are trying to destroy our father and our Family. And all it took was a

sock (удар) on the jaw. How do you like that?" Sonny made a comical gesture, a punch,

and repeated, "How do you like that?"

The tension had relaxed in the room. Mike shook his head. "Sonny, I'm doing it

because it's the only thing to do. I can't give Sollozzo another crack at the old man. I

seem to be the only one who can get close enough to him. And I figured it out. I don't

think you can get anybody else to knock off a police captain. Maybe you would do it,

Sonny, but you have a wife and kids and you have to run the Family business until the

old man is in shape. So that leaves me and Freddie. Freddie is in shock and out of

action. Finally that leaves just me. It's all logic. The sock on the jaw had nothing to do

with it."

Sonny came over and embraced him. "I don't give a damn what your reasons are, just

so long as you're with us now. And I'll tell you another thing, you're right all the way.

Tom, what's your say?"

Hagen shrugged. "The reasoning is solid. What makes it so is that I don't think the

Turk is sincere (искренний [sın'sı∂]) about a deal. I think he'll still try to get at the Don.

Anyway on his past performance (исполнение; действие, поступок) that's how we

have to figure him. So we try to get Sollozzo. We get him even if we have to get the

police captain. But whoever does the job is going to get an awful lot of heat. Does it

have to be Mike?"

Sonny said softly, "I could do it."

Hagen shook his head impatiently. "Sollozzo wouldn't let you get within a mile of him if

he had ten police captains. And besides you're the acting head of the Family. You can't

be risked." Hagen paused and said to Clemenza and Tessio, "Do either one of you have

a top button man, someone really special, who would take on this job? He wouldn't

have to worry about money for the rest of his life."

Clemenza spoke first. "Nobody that Sollozzo wouldn't know, he'd catch on right away.

He'd catch on if me or Tessio went too."

Hagen said, "What about somebody really tough who hasn't made his rep yet, a good

rookie (новичок, новобранец)?"

Both caporegimes shook their heads. Tessio smiled to take the sting (жало) out of his

words and said, "That's like bringing a guy up from the minors to pitch (бросать,

 

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посылать мяч) the World Series (/ baseball / an annual series of games between the

winning teams of the two major leagues: the first team to win four games being

champions of the U.S.)"

Sonny broke in curtly, "It has to be Mike. For a million different reasons. Most

important they got him down as faggy (гомосексуалист; /здесь/ трус). And he can do

the job, I guarantee that, and that's important because this is the only shot we'll get at

that sneaky bastard Turk. So now we have to figure out the best way to back him up.

Tom, Clemenza, Tessio, find out where Sollozzo will take him for the conference, I don't

care how much it costs. When we find that out we can figure out how we can get a

weapon into his hands. Clemenza, I want you to get him a really 'safe' gun out of your

collection, the 'coldest' one you got. Impossible to trace. Try to make it short barrel

(бочонок; ствол, дуло /ружья, пистолета/) with a lot of blasting (to blast –

взрывать/ся/) power. It doesn't have to be accurate. He'll be right on top of them when

he uses it. Mike, as soon as you've used the gun, drop it on the floor. Don't be caught

with it on you. Clemenza, tape (обматывать лентой; tape – лента) the barrel and the

trigger (курок) with that special stuff you got so he won't leave prints (отпечатки).

Remember, Mike, we can square everything, witnesses, and so forth, but if they catch

you with the gun on you we can't square that. We'll have transportation and protection

and then we'll make you disappear for a nice long vacation until the heat wears off.

You'll be gone a long time, Mike, but I don't want you saying good-bye to your girl friend

or even calling her. After it's all over and you're out of the country I'll send her word that

you're OK. Those are orders." Sonny smiled at his brother. "Now stick with Clemenza

and get used to handling the gun he picks out for you. Maybe even practice a little. We'll

take care of everything else. Everything. OK, kid?"

Again Michael Corleone felt that delicious refreshing chilliness all over his body. He

said to his brother, "You didn't have to give me that crap about not talking to my girl

friend about something like this. What the hell did you think I was going to do, call her

up to say good-bye?"

Sonny said hastily, "OK, but you're still a rookie so I spell things out. Forget it."

Michael said with a grin, "What the hell do you mean, a rookie? I listened to the old

man just as hard as you did. How do you think I got so smart?" They both laughed.

Hagen poured drinks for everyone. He looked a little glum (мрачно, хмуро). The

statesman forced (государственный деятель, вынужденный) to go to war, the lawyer

forced to go to law. "Well, anyway now we know what we're going to do," he said.

 

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Chapter 11

 

 

Captain Mark McCluskey sat in his office fingering three envelopes bulging with

betting slips (игральные карточки; slip – длинная узкая полоска; бланк). He was

frowning and wishing he could decode the notations on the slips. It was very important

that he do so. The envelopes were the betting slips that his raiding parties had picked

up when they had hit one of the Corleone Family bookmakers the night before. Now the

bookmaker would have to buy back the slips so that players couldn't claim winners and

wipe him out.

It was very important for Captain McCluskey to decode the slips because he didn't

want to get cheated when he sold the slips back to the bookmaker. If there was fifty

grand worth of action, then maybe he could sell it back for five grand. But if there were a

lot of heavy bets and the slips represented a hundred grand or maybe even two

hundred grand, then the price should be considerably higher. McCluskey fiddled

(вертел в руках; fiddle – вертеть; to fiddle – играть на скрипке) with the envelopes

and then decided to let the bookie sweat a little bit and make the first offer. That might

tip off (может подсказать) what the real price should be.

McCluskey looked at the station house clock on the wall of his office. It was time for

him to pick up that greasy (сальный, грязный) Turk, Sollozzo, and take him to

wherever he was going to meet the Corleone Family. McCluskey went over to his wall

locker (запирающийся шкафчик) and started to change into his civilian clothes. When

he was finished he called his wife and told her he would not be home for supper that

night, that he would be out on the job. He never confided (to confide – доверять/ся/;

вверять /тайну/) in his wife on anything. She thought they lived the way they did on his

policeman's salary (зарплата). McCluskey grunted with amusement. His mother had

thought the same thing but he had learned early. His father had shown him the ropes

(методы работы; rope – веревка, канат; петля).

His father had been a police sergeant, and every week father and son had walked

through the precinct and McCluskey Senior had introduced his six-year-old son to the

storekeepers (владельцы магазинов), saying, "And this is my little boy."

The storekeepers would shake his hand and compliment him extravagantly and ring

open their cash registers to give the little boy a gift of five or ten dollars. At the end of

the day, little Mark McCluskey would have all the pockets of his suit stuffed with paper

money, would feel so proud that his father's friends liked him well enough to give him a

 

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present every month they saw him. Of course his father put the money in the bank for

him, for his college education, and little Mark got at most a fifty-cent piece for himself.

Then when Mark got home and his policemen uncles asked him what he wanted to be

when he grew up and he would lisp childishly, "A policeman," they would all laugh

uproariously. And of course later on, though his father wanted him to go to college first,

he went right from high school to studying for the police force.

 

 

He had been a good cop, a brave cop. The tough young punks terrorizing street

corners fled when he approached and finally vanished from his beat altogether. He was

a very tough cop and a very fair one. He never took his son around to the storekeepers

to collect his money presents for ignoring garbage violations (нарушения по выбросу

мусора ['gα:bıdG]) and parking violations; he took the money directly into his own hand,

direct because he felt he earned it. He never ducked into a movie house or goofed (to

goof – лодырничать, слоняться без дела) off into restaurants when he was on foot

patrol as some of the other cops did, especially on winter nights. He always made his

rounds. He gave his stores a lot of protection, a lot of service. When winos (алкаши)

and drunks filtered up from the Bowery to panhandle on his beat (попрошайничать на

патрулируемом им участке; panhandle – ручка кастрюли) he got rid of them so

roughly that they never came back. The tradespeople in his precinct appreciated (to

appreciate [∂ ‘prı:∫ıeıt] – ценить) it. And they showed their appreciation.

He also obeyed the system. The bookies in his precinct knew he would never make

trouble to get an extra payoff for himself, that he was content for his share of the station

house bag (своей долей из общего котла; station house – полицейский участок; bag

– сумка; кошелек). His name was on the list with the others and he never tried to make

extras. He was a fair cop who took only clean graft (работа, профессия; взятка) and

his rise in the police department was steady if not spectacular (эффектный).

During this time he was raising a large family of four sons, none of whom became

policemen. They all went to Fordham University and since by that time Mark McCluskey

was rising from sergeant to lieutenant and finally to captain, they lacked for nothing. It

was at this time that McCluskey got the reputation for being a hard bargainer (to bargain

[‘bα:gın] – торговаться, заключать сделку). The bookmakers in his district paid more

protection money than the bookmakers in any other part of the city, but maybe that was

because of the expense of putting four boys through college.

McCluskey himself felt there was nothing wrong with clean graft. Why the hell should

his kids go to CCNY or a cheap Southern college just because the Police Department

 

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didn't pay its people enough money to live on and take care of their families properly

with? He protected all these people with his life and his record showed his citations

(вызовы в суд; упоминания в списках об отличившихся) for gun duels with stickup

(грабеж) men on his beat, strong-arm protection guys, would-be (претендующий, с

претензией на то, чтобы быть кем-то) pimps (сутенеры). He had hammered them

into the ground. He had kept his little corner of the city safe for ordinary people and he

sure as hell was entitled (имеющий право, уполномоченный) to more than his lousy

one C note (стодолларовая купюра) a week. But he wasn't indignant (возмущен)

about his low pay, he understood that everybody had to take care of themselves.

Bruno Tattaglia was an old friend of his. Bruno had gone to Fordham with one of his

sons and then Bruno had opened his nightclub and whenever the McCluskey family

spent an infrequent (нечастый) night on the town, they could enjoy the cabaret with

liquor and dinner – on the house. On New Year's Eve they received engraved

invitations to be guests of the management and always received one of the best tables.

Bruno always made sure they were introduced to the celebrities (знаменитости) who

performed in his club, some of them famous singers and Hollywood stars. Of course

sometimes he asked a little favor, like getting an employee with a record cleared for a

cabaret work license, usually a pretty girl with a police dossier as a hustler or roller

(вор-карманник). McCluskey would be glad to oblige (сделать одолжение, угодить

[∂b'laıdG]).

McCluskey made it a policy never to show that he understood what other people were

up to. When Sollozzo had approached him with the proposition to leave old man

Corleone uncovered in the hospital, McCluskey didn't ask why. He asked price. When

Sollozzo said ten grand, McCluskey knew why. He did not hesitate. Corleone was one

of the biggest Mafia men in the country with more political connections than Capone

had ever had. Whoever knocked him off would be doing the country a big favor.

McCluskey took the money in advance (заранее, задатком; advance [∂d'vα:ns] –

движение вперед; аванс) and did the job. When he received a call from Sollozzo that

there were still two of Corleone's men in front of the hospital he had flown into a rage.

He had locked up all of Tessio's men, he had pulled the detective guards off the door of

Corleone's hospital room. And now, being a man of principle, he would have to give

back the ten grand, money he had already earmarked (earmark – клеймо /на ухе/,

тавро; to earmark – клеймить; откладывать деньги /на что-либо/) to insure the

education of his grandchildren. It was in that rage that he had gone to the hospital and

struck Michael Corleone.

 

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But it had all worked out for the best. He had met with Sollozzo in the Tattaglia

nightclub and they had made an even better deal. Again McCluskey didn't ask

questions, since he knew all the answers. He just made sure of his price. It never

occurred to him that he himself could be in any danger. That anyone would consider

even for a moment killing a New York City police captain was too fantastic. The

toughest hood in the Mafia had to stand still (по стойке смирно) if the lowliest

patrolman decided to slap him around. There was absolutely no percentage in killing

cops. Because then all of a sudden a lot of hoods were killed resisting arrest or

escaping the scene of a crime, and who the hell was going to do anything about that?

McCluskey sighed and got ready to leave the station house. Problems, always

problems. His wife's sister in Ireland had just died after many years of fighting cancer

and that cancer had cost him a pretty penny. Now the funeral would cost him more. His

own uncles and aunts in the old country needed a little help now and then to keep their

potato farms and he sent the money to do the trick. He didn't begrudge (жадничать,

жалеть, скупиться) it. And when he and his wife visited the old country they were

treated like a king and queen. Maybe they would go again this summer now that the war

was over and with all this extra money coming in. McCluskey told his patrolman clerk

where he would be if he was needed. He did not feel it necessary to take any

precautions. He could always claim Sollozzo was an informer he was meeting. Outside

the station house he walked a few blocks and then caught a cab to the house where he

would meet with Sollozzo.

 

 

It was Tom Hagen who had to make all the arrangements for Michael's leaving the

country, his false passport, his seaman's card, his berth (койка) on an Italian freighter

(грузовой корабль ['freıt∂]) that would dock in a Sicilian port. Emissaries were sent that

very day by plane to Sicily to prepare a hiding place with the Mafia chief in the hill

country.

Sonny arranged for a car and an absolutely trustworthy driver to be waiting for

Michael when he stepped out of the restaurant where the meeting would be held with

Sollozzo. The driver would be Tessio himself, who had volunteered for the job. It would

be a beat-up-looking (побитый, обшарпанный) car but with a fine motor. It would have

phony license plates and the car itself would be untraceable. It had been saved for a

special job requiring the best.

Michael spent the day with Clemenza, practicing with the small gun that would be

gotten to him. It was a.22 filled with soft-nosed bullets that made pinpricks

 

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(булавочные уколы) going in and left insulting gaping holes when they exited from the

human body. He found that it was accurate up to five of his steps away from a target

(цель). After that the bullets might go anywhere. The trigger was tight (тугой) but

Clemenza worked on this with some tools (инструменты) so that it pulled easier. They

decided to leave it noisy. They didn't want an innocent bystander misunderstanding the

situation and interfering out of ignorant courage. The report of the gun would keep them

away from Michael.

Clemenza kept instructing him during the training session. "Drop the gun as soon as

you've finished using it. Just let your hand drop to your side and the gun slip out.

Nobody will notice. Everybody will think you're still armed. They'll be staring at your face.

Walk out of the place very quickly but don't run. Don't look anybody directly in the eye

but don't look away from them either. Remember, they'll be scared of you, believe me,

they'll be scared of you. Nobody will interfere. As soon as you're outside Tessio will be

in the car waiting for you. Get in and leave the rest to him. Don't be worried about

accidents. You'd be surprised how well these affairs go. Now put this hat on and let's

see how you look." He clapped a gray fedora (мягкая фетровая шляпа [fı'd∂ur∂]) on

Michael's head. Michael, who never wore a hat, grimaced. Clemenza reassured him. "It

helps against identification, just in case. Mostly it gives witnesses an excuse to change

their identification when we make them see the light. Remember, Mike, don't worry

about prints. The butt (рукоятка) and trigger are fixed with special tape. Don't touch any

other part of the gun, remember that."

Michael said, "Has Sonny found out where Sollozzo is taking me?"

Clemenza shrugged. "Not yet. Sollozzo is being very careful. But don't worry about

him harming you. The negotiator stays in our hands until you come back safe. If

anything happens to you, the negotiator pays."

"Why the hell should he stick his neck out?" Michael asked.

"He gets a big fee (вознаграждение, гонорар)," Clemenza said. "A small fortune.

Also he is an important man in the Families. He knows Sollozzo can't let anything

happen to him. Your life is not worth the negotiator's life to Sollozzo. Very simple. You'll

be safe all right. We're the ones who catch hell afterwards."

"How bad will it be?" Michael asked.

"Very bad," Clemenza said. "It means an all-out war with the Tattaglia Family against

the Corleone Family. Most of the others will line up with the Tattaglias. The Sanitation

Department will be sweeping up a lot of dead bodies this winter." He shrugged. "These

things have to happen once every ten years or so. It gets rid of the bad blood. And then

 

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if we let them push us around on the little things they wanta take over everything. You

gotta stop them at the beginning. Like they shoulda stopped Hitler at Munich, they

should never let him get away with that, they were just asking for big trouble when they

let him get away with that."

Michael had heard his father say this same thing before, only in 1939 before the war

actually started. If the Families had been running the State Department there would

never have been World War II, he thought with a grin.

They drove back to the mall and to the Don's house, where Sonny still made his

headquarters. Michael wondered how long Sonny could stay cooped up (coop –

курятник; to coop – сажать в курятник, в клетку) in the safe territory of the mall.

Eventually he would have to venture (отважиться) out. They found Sonny taking a nap

on the couch. On the coffee table was the remains of his late lunch, scraps of steak and

bread crumbs and a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

His father's usually neat office was taking on the look of a badly kept furnished room.

Michael shook his brother awake and said, "Why don't you stop living like a bum

(лодырь; /здесь/ бродяга) and get this place cleaned up?"

Sonny yawned. "What the hell are you, inspecting the barracks? Mike, we haven't got

the word yet where they plan to take you, those bastards Sollozzo and McCluskey. If we

don't find that out, how the hell are we going to get the gun to you?"

"Can't I carry it on me?" Michael asked. "Maybe they won't frisk me and even if they

do maybe they'll miss it if we're smart enough. And even if they find it – so what. They'll

just take it off me and no harm done."

Sonny shook his head. "Nah," he said. "We have to make this a sure hit on that

bastard Sollozzo. Remember, get him first if you possibly can. McCluskey is slower and

dumber. You should have plenty of time to take him. Did Clemenza tell you to be sure to

drop the gun?"

"A million times," Michael said.

Sonny got up from the sofa and stretched. "How does your jaw feel, kid?"

"Lousy," Michael said. The left side of his face ached except those parts that felt numb

because of the drugged wire holding it together. He took the bottle of whiskey from the

table and swigged (swig – большой глоток /спиртного/; to swig – пить большими

глотками) directly from it. The pain eased.

Sonny said, "Easy, Mike, now is no time to get slowed up by booze (спиртное,

бухло)."

 

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Michael said, "Oh, Christ, Sonny, stop playing the big brother. I've been in combat

against tougher guys than Sollozzo and under worse conditions. Where the hell are his

mortars (минометы)? Has he got air cover? Heavy artillery? Land mines? He's just a

wise son of a bitch with a big-wheel (важный, влиятельный /человек/) cop sidekick

(закадычный друг /сленг/). Once anybody makes up their mind to kill them there's no

other problem. That's the hard part, making up your mind. They'll never know what hit

them."

Tom Hagen came into the room. He greeted them with a nod and went directly to the

falsely listed telephone. He called a few times and then shook his head at Sonny. "Not a

whisper," he said. "Sollozzo is keeping it to himself as long as he can."

The phone rang. Sonny answered it and he held up a hand as if to signal for quiet

though no one had spoken. He jotted some notes down on a pad, then said, "OK, he'll

be there," and hung up the phone.

Sonny was laughing. "That son of a bitch Sollozzo, he really is something. Here's the

deal. At eight tonight he and Captain McCluskey pick up Mike in front of Jack

Dempsey's bar on Broadway. They go someplace to talk, and get this. Mike and

Sollozzo talk in Italian so that the Irish cop don't know what the hell they are talking

about. He even tells me, don't worry, he knows McCluskey doesn't know one word in

Italian unless it's ' soldi ' (деньги) and he's checked you out, Mike, and knows you can

understand Sicilian dialect."

Michael said dryly, "I'm pretty rusty (ржавый; запущенный) but we won't talk long."

Tom Hagen said, "We don't let Mike go until we have the negotiator. Is that

arranged?"

Clemenza nodded. "The negotiator is at my house playing pinochle (вид карточной

игры) with three of my men. They wait for a call from me before they let him go."

Sonny sank back in the leather armchair. "Now how the hell do we find out the

meeting place? Tom, we've got informers with the Tattaglia Family, how come they

haven't given us the word?"

Hagen shrugged. "Sollozzo is really damn smart. He's playing this close to the vest,

so close that he's not using any men as a cover. He figures the captain will be enough

and that security is more important than guns. He's right too. We'll have to put a tail on

Mike and hope for the best."

Sonny shook his head. "Nah, anybody can lose a tail when they really want to. That's

the first thing they'll check out."

 

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By this time it was five in the afternoon. Sonny, with a worried look on his face, said,

"Maybe we should just let Mike blast whoever is in the car when it tries to pick him up."

Hagen shook his head. "What if Sollozzo is not in the car? We've tipped our hand for

nothing. Damn it, we have to find out where Sollozzo is taking him."

Clemenza put in, "Maybe we should start trying to figure why he's making it such a big

secret."

Michael said impatiently, "Because it's the percentage. Why should he let us know

anything if he can prevent it? Besides, he smells danger. He must be leery

(подозрительый, осторожный, осмотрительный) as hell even with that police captain

for his shadow."

Hagen snapped his fingers. "That detective, that guy Phillips. Why don't you give him

a ring, Sonny? Maybe he can find out where the hell the captain can be reached. It's

worth a try. McCluskey won't give a damn who knows where he's going."

Sonny picked up the phone and dialed a number. He spoke softly into the phone, then

hung up. "He'll call us back," Sonny said.

They waited for nearly another thirty minutes and then the phone rang. It was Phillips.

Sonny jotted something down on his pad and then hung up. His face was taut (туго

натянутый, подтянутый [to:t]). "I think we've got it," he said. "Captain McCluskey

always has to leave word on where he can be reached. From eight to ten tonight he'll be

at the Luna Azure up in the Bronx. Anybody know it?"

Tessio spoke confidently. "I do. It's perfect for us. A small family place with big booths

(booth [bu:р] – киоск, будка, кабина) where people can talk in private. Good food.

Everybody minds their own business. Perfect." He leaned over Sonny's desk and

arranged stubbed-out (stub – пень; обломок; окурок; to stub out – погасить /окурок/)

cigarettes into map figures. "This is the entrance. Mike, when you finish just walk out

and turn left, then turn the corner. I'll spot you and put on my headlights and catch you

on the fly. If you have any trouble, yell and I'll try to come in and get you out. Clemenza,

you gotta work fast. Send somebody up there to plant (сажать /растение/; размещать)

the gun. They got an old-fashioned toilet with a space between the water container and

the wall. Have your man tape the gun behind there. Mike, after they frisk you in the car

and find you're clean, they won't be too worried about you. In the restaurant, wait a bit

before you excuse yourself. No, better still, ask permission to go. Act a little in trouble

first, very natural. They can't figure anything. But when you come out again, don't waste

any time. Don't sit down again at the table, start blasting. And don't take chances. In the

head, two shots apiece, and out as fast as your legs can travel."

 

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Sonny had been listening judiciously. "I want somebody very good, very safe, to plant

that gun," he told Clemenza. "I don't want my brother coming out of that toilet with just

his dick (половой член /сленг/) in his hand."

Clemenza said emphatically (с пафосом, с эмфазой, решительно, категорически

[ım'fжtık∂lı]), "The gun will be there."