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
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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.
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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
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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
women will arrange for the church to say their masses and prayers for his soul."
The Don got up from his leather armchair. The other men rose with him and
Clemenza and Tessio embraced him again. Hagen held the door open for the Don, who
paused to look at him for a moment. Then the Don put his hand on Hagen's cheek,
embraced him quickly, and said, in Italian, "You've been a good son. You comfort me."
Telling Hagen that he had acted properly in this terrible time. The Don went up to his
bedroom to speak to his wife. It was then that Hagen made the call to Amerigo
Bonasera for the undertaker to redeem (выкупить /заложенные вещи/; возместить;
искупить) the favor he owed to the Corleones.
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