Английский язык с Крестным Отцом - Илья Франк

and present had purified him.

Even so, his huge body in a reflex for life crashed against the Buick door, bursting its

lock. The man in the darkened tollbooth opened fire and the shots caught Sonny

Corleone in the head and neck as his massive frame spilled out of the car. The two men

in front held up their guns now, the man in the darkened tollbooth cut his fire, and

Sonny's body sprawled on the asphalt with the legs still partly inside. The two men each

fired shots into Sonny's body, then kicked him in the face to disfigure his features even

more, to show a mark made by a more personal human power.

Seconds afterward, all four men, the three actual assassins (assassin [∂'sжsın] –

/наемный, нападающий из-за угла/ убийца) and the bogus (поддельный, фиктивный)

toll collector, were in their car and speeding toward the Meadowbrook Parkway on the

other side of Jones Beach. Their pursuit was blocked by Sonny's car and body in the

tollgate slot but when Sonny's bodyguards pulled up a few minutes later and saw his

body lying there, they had no intention to pursue. They swung their car around in a huge

arc and returned to Long Beach. At the first public phone off the causeway one of them

hopped out and called Tom Hagen. He was very curt and very brisk. "Sonny's dead,

they got him at the Jones Beach toll."

Hagen's voice was perfectly calm. "OK," he said. "Go to Clemenza's house and tell

him to come here right away. He'll tell you what to do."

Hagen had taken the call in the kitchen, with Mama Corleone bustling around

101

preparing a snack for the arrival of her daughter. He had kept his composure and the

old woman had not noticed anything amiss. Not that she could not have, if she wanted

to, but in her life with the Don she had learned it was far wiser not to perceive. That if it

was necessary to know something painful, it would be told to her soon enough. And if it

was a pain that could be spared her, she could do without. She was quite content not to

share the pain of her men, after all did they share the pain of women? Impassively she

boiled her coffee and set the table with food. In her experience pain and fear did not dull

physical hunger; in her experience the taking of food dulled pain. She would have been

outraged if a doctor had tried to sedate her with a drug, but coffee and a crust of bread

were another matter; she came, of course, from a more primitive culture.

And so she let Tom Hagen escape to his corner conference room and once in that

room, Hagen began to tremble so violently he had to sit down with his legs squeezed

together, his head hunched into his contracted shoulders, hands clasped together

between his knees as if he were praying to the devil.

He was, he knew now, no fit Consigliori for a Family at war. He had been fooled,

faked out, by the Five Families and their seeming timidity. They had remained quiet,

laying their terrible ambush (засада ['жmbu∫]). They had planned and waited, holding

their bloody hands no matter what provocation they had been given. They had waited to

land one terrible blow. And they had. Old Genco Abbandando would never have fallen

for it, he would have smelled a rat, he would have smoked them out, tripled his

precautions. And through all this Hagen felt his grief. Sonny had been his true brother,

his savior; his hero when they had been boys together. Sonny had never been mean or

bullying (to bully – задирать; запугивать) with him, had always treated him with

affection, had taken him in his arms when Sollozzo had turned him loose. Sonny's joy at

that reunion had been real. That he had grown up to be a cruel and violent and bloody

man was, for Hagen, not relevant (уместный, относящийся к делу ['relıv∂nt]).

He had walked out of the kitchen because he knew he could never tell Mama

Corleone about her son's death. He had never thought of her as his mother as he

thought of the Don as his father and Sonny as his brother. His affection for her was like

his affection for Freddie and Michael and Connie. The affection for someone who has

been kind but not loving. But he could not tell her. In a few short months she had lost all

102

her sons; Freddie exiled to Nevada, Michael hiding for his life in Sicily, and now Santino

dead. Which of the three had she loved most of all? She had never shown.

It was no more than a few minutes, Hagen got control of himself again and picked up

the phone. He called Connie's number. It rang for a long time before Connie answered

in a whisper.

Hagen spoke to her gently. "Connie, this is Tom. Wake your husband up, I have to

talk to him."

Connie said in a low frightened voice, "Tom, is Sonny coming here?"

"No," Hagen said. "Sonny's not coming there. Don't worry about that. Just wake Carlo

up and tell him it's very important I speak to him."

Connie's voice was weepy. "Tom, he beat me up, I'm afraid he'll hurt me again if he

knows I called home."

Hagen said gently, "He won't. He'll talk to me and I'll straighten him out. Everything

will be OK. Tell him it's very important, very, very important he come to the phone. OK?"

It was almost five minutes before Carlo's voice came over the phone, a voice half

slurred by whiskey and sleep. Hagen spoke sharply to make him alert.

"Listen, Carlo," he said, "I'm going to tell you something very shocking. Now prepare

yourself because when I tell it to you I want you to answer me very casually as if it's less

than it is. I told Connie it was important so you have to give her a story. Tell her the

Family has decided to move you both to one of the houses in the mall and to give you a

big job. That the Don has finally decided to give you a chance in the hope of making

your home life better. You got that?"

There was a hopeful note in Carlo's voice as he answered, "Yeah, OK."

Hagen went on, "In a few minutes a couple of my men are going to knock on your

door to take you away with them. Tell them I want them to call me first. Just tell them

that. Don't say anything else. I'll instruct them to leave you there with Connie. OK?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Carlo said. His voice was excited. The tension in Hagen's voice

seemed to have finally alerted him that the news coming up was going to be really

important. Hagen gave it to him straight. "They killed Sonny tonight. Don't say anything.

Connie called him while you were asleep and he was on his way over there, but I don't

want her to know that, even if she guesses it, I don't want her to know it for sure. She'll

start thinking it's all her fault. Now I want you to stay with her tonight and not tell her

anything. I want you to make up with her. I want you to be the perfect loving husband.

And I want you to stay that way until she has her baby at least. Tomorrow morning

somebody, maybe you, maybe the Don, maybe her mother, will tell Connie that her

103

brother got killed. And I want you by her side. Do me this favor and I'll take care of you

in the times to come. You got that?"

Carlo's voice was a little shaky. "Sure, Tom, sure. Listen, me and you always got

along. I'm grateful. Understand?"

"Yeah," Hagen said. "Nobody will blame your fight with Connie for causing this, don't

worry about that. I'll take care of that." He paused and softly, encouragingly, "Go ahead

now, take care of Connie." He broke the connection.

He had learned never to make a threat, the Don had taught him that, but Carlo had

gotten the message all right: he was a hair away from death.

Hagen made another call to Tessio, telling him to come to the mall in Long Beach

immediately. He didn't say why and Tessio did not ask. Hagen sighed. Now would come

the part he dreaded.

He would have to waken the Don from his drugged slumber. He would have to tell the

man he most loved in the world that he had failed him, that he had failed to guard his

domain and the life of his eldest son. He would have to tell the Don everything was lost

unless the sick man himself could enter the battle. For Hagen did not delude himself.

Only the great Don himself could snatch even a stalemate from this terrible defeat.

Hagen didn't even bother checking with Don Corleone's doctors, it would be to no

purpose. No matter what the doctors ordered, even if they told him that the Don could

not rise from his sickbed on pain of death, he must tell his adopted father and then

follow him. And of course there was no question about what the Don would do. The

opinions of medical men were irrelevant now, everything was irrelevant now. The Don

must be told and he must either take command or order Hagen to surrender the

Corleone power to the Five Families.

And yet with all his heart, Hagen dreaded the next hour. He tried to prepare his own

manner. He would have to be in all ways strict with his own guilt. To reproach himself

would only add to the Don's burden. To show his own grief would only sharpen the grief

of the Don. To point out his own shortcomings (недостатки, дефекты, то, в чем «не

дотягивает») as a wartime Consigliori, would only make the Don reproach himself for

his own bad judgment for picking such a man for such an important post.

He must, Hagen knew, tell the news, present his analysis of what must be done to

rectify (исправить, выпрямить) the situation and then keep silent. His reactions

thereafter must be the reactions invited by his Don. If the Don wanted him to show guilt,

he would show guilt; if the Don invited grief, he would lay bare his genuine sorrow.

Hagen lifted his head at the sound of motors, cars rolling up onto the mall. The

caporegimes were arriving. He would brief them first and then he would go up and

104

wake Don Corleone. He got up and went to the liquor cabinet by the desk and took out

a glass and bottle. He stood there for a moment so unnerved he could not pour the

liquid from bottle to glass. Behind him, he heard the door to the room close softly and,

turning, he saw, fully dressed for the first time since he had been shot, Don Corleone.

The Don walked across the room to his huge leather armchair and sat down. He

walked a little stiffly, his clothes hung a little loosely on his frame but to Hagen's eyes he

looked the same as always. It was almost as if by his will alone the Don had discarded

all external evidence of his still weakened frame. His face was sternly set with all its old

force and strength. He sat straight in the armchair and he said to Hagen, "Give me a

drop of anisette."

Hagen switched bottles and poured them both a portion of the fiery, licorice-tasting

alcohol. It was peasant, homemade stuff, much stronger than that sold in stores, the gift

of an old friend who every year presented the Don with a small truckload.

"My wife was weeping before she fell asleep," Don Corleone said. "Outside my

window I saw my caporegimes coming to the house and it is midnight. So, Consigliori of

mine, I think you should tell your Don what everyone knows."

Hagen said quietly, "I didn't tell Mama anything. I was about to come up and wake you

and tell you the news myself. In another moment I would have come to waken you."

Don Corleone said impassively, "But you needed a drink first."

"Yes," Hagen said.

"You've had your drink," the Don said. "You can tell me now." There was just the

faintest hint of reproach for Hagen's weakness.

"They shot Sonny on the causeway," Hagen said. "He's dead."

Don Corleone blinked (to blink – мигать, щуриться). For just the fraction of a second

the wall of his will disintegrated and the draining (to drain – дренировать, осушать

/почву/; истощать /силы, средства/) of his physical strength was plain on his face.

Then he recovered.

He clasped his hands in front of him on top of the desk and looked directly into

Hagen's eyes. "Tell me everything that happened," he said. He held up one of his hands.

"No, wait until Clemenza and Tessio arrive so you won't have to tell it all again."

It was only a few moments later that the two caporegimes were escorted into the room

by a bodyguard. They saw at once that the Don knew about his son's death because

the Don stood up to receive them. They embraced him as old comrades were permitted

105

to do. They all had a drink of anisette which Hagen poured them before he told them the

story of that night.

Don Corleone asked only one question at the end. "Is it certain my son is dead?"

Clemenza answered. "Yes," he said. "The bodyguards were of Santino's regime but

picked by me. I questioned them when they came to my house. They saw his body in

the light of the tollhouse. He could not live with the wounds they saw. They place their

lives in forfeit for what they say."

Don Corleone accepted this final verdict without any sign of emotion except for a few

moments of silence. Then he said, "None of you are to concern yourselves with this

affair. None of you are to commit any acts of vengeance, none of you are to make any

inquiries to track down the murderers of my son without my express command. There

will be no further acts of war against the Five Families without my express and personal

wish. Our Family win cease all business operations and cease to protect any of our

business operations until after my son's funeral. Then we will meet here again and

decide what must be done. Tonight we must do what we can for Santino, we must bury

him as a Christian. I will have friends of mine arrange things with the police and all other

proper authorities. Clemenza, you will remain with me at all times as my bodyguard, you

and the men of your regime. Tessio, you will guard all other members of my Family.

Tom, I want you to call Amerigo Bonasera and tell him I will need his services at some

time during this night. To wait for me at his establishment. It may be an hour, two hours,

three hours. Do you all understand that?"

The three men nodded. Don Corleone said, "Clemenza, get some men and cars and

wait for me. I will be ready in a few minutes. Tom, you did well. In the morning I want

Constanzia with her mother. Make arrangements for her and her husband to live in the

mall. Have Sandra's friends, the women, go to her house to stay with her. My wife will

go there also when I have spoken with her. My wife will tell her the misfortune and the