but did not know how to approach a political bagman. They had only two assets. Their
honor and their ferocity.
A Bocchicchio never lied, never committed an act of treachery. Such behavior was too
complicated. Also, a Bocchicchio never forgot an injury and never left it unavenged no
matter what the cost. And so by accident they stumbled into what would prove to be
their most lucrative profession.
When warring families wanted to make peace and arrange a parley, the Bocchicchio
clan was contacted. The head of the clan would handle the initial negotiations and
arrange for the necessary hostages. For instance, when Michael had gone to meet
Sollozzo, a Bocchicchio had been left with the Corleone Family as surety for Michael's
safety, the service paid for by Sollozzo. If Michael were killed by Sollozzo, then the
Bocchicchio male hostage held by the Corleone Family would be killed by the
Corleones. In this case the Bocchicchios would take their vengeance on Sollozzo as the
cause of their clansman's death. Since the Bocchicchios were so primitive, they never
let anything, any kind of punishment, stand in their way of vengeance. They would give
up their own lives and there was no protection against them if they were betrayed. A
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Bocchicchio hostage (заложник; залог ['hostıdG]) was gilt-edged (с золотым обрезом;
первоклассный; gilt – позолота) insurance (гарантия, страхование).
And so now when Don Corleone employed the Bocchicchios as negotiators and
arranged for them to supply hostages for all the Families to come to the peace meeting,
there could be no question as to his sincerity. There could be no question of treachery.
The meeting would be safe as a wedding.
Hostages given, the meeting took place in the director's conference room of a small
commercial bank whose president was indebted to Don Corleone and indeed some of
whose stock belonged to Don Corleone though it was in the president's name. The
president always treasured that moment when he had offered to give Don Corleone a
written document proving his ownership of the shares, to preclude (предотвратить) any
treachery. Don Corleone had been horrified. "I would trust you with my whole fortune,"
he told the president. "I would trust you with my life and the welfare (благосостояние)
of my children. It is inconceivable (немыслимо, непредставимо) to me that you would
ever trick me or otherwise betray me. My whole world, all my faith in my judgment of
human character would collapse. Of course I have my own written records so that if
something should happen to me my heirs would know that you hold something in trust
for them. But I know that even if I were not here in this world to guard the interests of my
children, you would be faithful to their needs."
The president of the bank, though not Sicilian, was a man of tender sensibilities. He
understood the Don perfectly. Now the Godfather's request was the president's
command and so on a Saturday afternoon, the executive suite of the bank, the
conference room with its deep leather chairs, its absolute privacy, was made available
to the Families.
Security at the bank was taken over by a small army of handpicked (выбранный,
подобранный; отборный) men wearing bank guard uniforms. At ten o'clock on a
Saturday morning the conference room began to fill up. Besides the Five Families of
New York, there were representatives from ten other Families across the country, with
the exception of Chicago, that black sheep of their world. They had given up trying to
civilize Chicago, and they saw no point in including those mad dogs in this important
conference.
A bar had been set up and a small buffet. Each representative to the conference had
been allowed one aide (помощник, адъютант [eıd]). Most of the Dons had brought their
Consiglioris as aides so there were comparatively few young men in the room. Tom
Hagen was one of those young men and the only one who was not Sicilian. He was an
object of curiosity, a freak (каприз, причуда; уродец; человек или явление,
выходящее за рамки обычного).
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Hagen knew his manners. He did not speak, he did not smile. He waited on his boss,
Don Corleone, with all the respect of a favorite earl (граф /английский/ [∂:l]) waiting on
his king; bringing him a cold drink, lighting his cigar, positioning his ashtray; with respect
but no obsequiousness (подобострастие; obsequious [∂b’si:kwı∂s] –
подобострастный).
Hagen was the only one in that room who knew the identity of the portraits hanging on
the dark paneled walls. They were mostly portraits of fabulous financial figures done in
rich oils. One was of Secretary of the Treasury Hamilton. Hagen could not help thinking
that Hamilton might have approved of this peace meeting being held in a banking
institution. Nothing was more calming, more conducive to pure reason, than the
atmosphere of money.
The arrival time had been staggered (to stagger – шататься, колебаться;
регулировать часы работы) for between nine-thirty to ten A.M. Don Corleone, in a
sense the host since he had initiated the peace talks, had been the first to arrive; one of
his many virtues was punctuality. The next to arrive was Carlo Tramonti, who had made
the southern part of the United States his territory. He was an impressively handsome
middle-aged man, tall for a Sicilian, with a very deep sunburn, exquisitely tailored and
barbered. He did not look Italian, he looked more like one of those pictures in the
magazines of millionaire fishermen lolling (to loll – сидеть развалясь; стоять
/облокотясь/ в ленивой позе) on their yachts. The Tramonti Family earned its
livelihood from gambling, and no one meeting their Don would ever guess with what
ferocity he had won his empire.
Emigrating from Sicily as a small boy, he had settled in Florida and grown to manhood
there, employed by the American syndicate of Southern small-town politicians who
controlled gambling. These were very tough men backed up by very tough police
officials and they never suspected that they could be overthrown by such a greenhorn
(новичок, неопытный человек) immigrant. They were unprepared for his ferocity and
could not match it simply because the rewards being fought over were not, to their
minds, worth so much bloodshed. Tramonti won over the police with bigger shares of
the gross (общая масса [gr∂us]); he exterminated those redneck (неотесанный
человек, деревенщина) hooligans who ran their operation with such a complete lack of
imagination. It was Tramonti who opened ties with Cuba and the Batista regime and
eventually poured money into the pleasure resorts of Havana gambling houses,
whorehouses, to lure (завлекать, заманивать [lu∂]) gamblers from the American
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mainland. Tramonti was now a millionaire many times over and owned one of the most
luxurious hotels in Miami Beach.
When he came into the conference room followed by his aide, an equally sunburned
Consigliori, Tramonti embraced Don Corleone, made a face of sympathy to show he
sorrowed for the dead son.
Other Dons were arriving. They all knew each other, they had met over the years,
either socially or when in the pursuit of their businesses. They had always showed each
other professional courtesies and in their younger, leaner (lean – тощий, худой) days
had done each other little services. The second Don to arrive was Joseph Zaluchi from
Detroit. The Zaluchi Family, under appropriate disguises and covers, owned one of the
horse-racing tracks in the Detroit area. They also owned a good part of the gambling.
Zaluchi was a moon-faced, amiable-looking man who lived in a one-hundred-thousand-
dollar house in the fashionable Grosse Point section of Detroit. One of his sons had
married into an old, well-known American family. Zaluchi, like Don Corleone, was
sophisticated (скушенный, изощренный, сложный, непростой). Detroit had the lowest
incidence of physical violence of any of the cities controlled by the Families; there had
been only two executions in the last three years in that city. He disapproved of traffic in
drugs.
Zaluchi had brought his Consigliori with him and both men came to Don Corleone to
embrace him. Zaluchi had a booming American voice with only the slightest trace of an
accent. He was conservatively dressed, very businessman, and with a hearty goodwill
to match. He said to Don Corleone, "Only your voice could have brought me here." Don
Corleone bowed his head in thanks. He could count on Zaluchi for support.
The next two Dons to arrive were from the West Coast, motoring from there in the
same car since they worked together closely in any case. They were Frank Falcone and
Anthony Molinari and both were younger than any of the other men who would come to
the meeting; in their early forties. They were dressed a little more informally than the
others, there was a touch of Hollywood in their style and they were a little more friendly
than necessary. Frank Falcone controlled the movie unions and the gambling at the
studios plus a complex of pipeline (трубопровод, нефтепровод) prostitution that
supplied girls to the whorehouses of the states in the Far West. It was not in the realm
of possibility for any Don to become "show biz" but Falcone had just a touch. His fellow