mp.godfather-第47部分

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　can　he　do　to　the　three　of　us？　We're　stronger　than　him。　We　have　guns。　Why　do　we　have　to　hand　over　the　money　we　earned？〃
　
　Clemenza　explained　patiently。　〃Fanucci　has　friends；　real　brutes。　He　has　connections　with　the　police。　He'd　like　us　to　tell　him　our　plans　because　he　could　set　us　up　for　the　gyps　and　earn　their　gratitude。　Then　they　would　owe　him　a　favor。　That's　how　he　operates。　And　he　has　a　license　from　Maranzalla　himself　to　work　this　neighborhood。〃　Maranzalla　was　a　gangster　often　in　the　newspapers；　reputed　to　be　the　leader　of　a　criminal　ring　specializing　in　extortion；　gambling　and　armed　robbery。
　
　Clemenza　served　wine　that　he　had　made　himself。　His　wife；　after　putting　a　plate　of　salami；　olives　and　a　loaf　of　Italian　bread　on　the　table；　went　down　to　sit　with　her　women　cronies　in　front　of　the　building；　carrying　her　chair　with　her。　She　was　a　young　Italian　girl　only　a　few　years　in　the　country　and　did　not　yet　understand　English。
　
　Vito　Corleone　sat　with　his　two　friends　and　drank　wine。　He　had　never　used　his　intelligence　before　as　he　was　using　it　now。　He　was　surprised　at　how　clearly　he　could　think。　He　recalled　everything　he　knew　about　Fanucci。　He　remembered　the　day　the　man　had　had　his　throat　cut　and　had　run　down　the　street　holding　his　fedora　under　his　chin　to　catch　the　dripping　blood。　He　remembered　the　murder　of　the　man　who　had　wield　the　knife　and　the　other　two　having　their　sentences　removed　by　paying　an　indemnity。　And　suddenly　he　was　sure　that　Fanucci　had　no　great　connections；　could　not　possibly　have。　Not　a　man　who　informed　to　the　police。　Not　a　man　who　allowed　his　vengeance　to　be　bought　off。　A　real　Mafioso　chief　would　have　had　the　other　two　men　killed　also。　No。　Fanucci　had　got　lucky　and　killed　one　man　but　had　known　he　could　not　kill　the　other　two　after　they　were　alerted。　And　so　he　had　allowed　himself　to　be　paid。　It　was　the　personal　brutal　force　of　the　man　that　allowed　him　to　levy　tribute　on　the　shopkeepers；　the　gambling　games　that　ran　in　the　tenement　apartments。　But　Vito　Corleone　knew　of　at　least　one　gambling　game　that　had　never　paid　Fanucci　tributes　and　nothing　had　ever　happened　to　the　men　running　it。
　
　And　so　it　was　Fanucci　alone。　Or　Fanucci　with　some　gunmen　hired　for　special　jobs　on　a　strictly　cash　basis。　Which　left　Vito　Corleone　with　another　decision。　The　course　his　own　life　must　take。
　
　It　was　from　this　experience　came　his　oft…repeated　belief　that　every　man　has　but　one　destiny。　On　that　night　he　could　have　paid　Fanucci　the　tribute　and　have　bee　again　a　grocery　clerk　with　perhaps　his　own　grocery　store　in　the　years　to　e。　But　destiny　had　decided　that　he　was　to　bee　a　Don　and　had　brought　Fanucci　to　him　to　set　him　on　his　destined　path。
　
　When　they　finished　the　bottle　of　wine；　Vito　said　cautiously　to　Clemenza　and　Tessio；　〃If　you　like；　why　not　give　me　two　hundred　dollars　each　to　pay　to　Fanucci？　I　guarantee　he　will　accept　that　amount　from　me。　Then　leave　everything　in　my　hands。　I'll　settle　this　problem　to　your　satisfaction。〃
　
　At　once　Clemenza's　eyes　gleamed　with　suspicion。　Vito　said　to　him　coldly；　〃I　never　lie　to　people　I　have　accepted　as　my　friends。　Speak　to　Fanucci　yourself　tomorrow。　Let　him　ask　you　for　the　money。　But　don't　pay　him。　And　don't　in　any　way　quarrel　with　him。　Tell　him　you　have　to　get　the　money　and　will　give　it　to　me　to　give　him。　Let　him　understand　that　you　are　willing　to　pay　what　he　asks。　Don't　bargain。　I'll　quarrel　over　the　price　with　him。　There's　no　point　making　him　angry　with　us　if　he's　as　dangerous　a　man　as　you　say　he　is。〃
　
　They　left　it　at　that。　The　next　day　Clemenza　spoke　with　Fanucci　to　make　sure　that　Vito　was　not　making　up　the　story。　Then　Clemenza　came　to　Vito's　apartment　and　gave　him　the　two　hundred　dollars。　He　peered　at　Vito　Corleone　and　said；　〃Fanucci　told　me　nothing　below　three　hundred　dollars；　how　will　you　make　him　take　less？〃
　
　Vito　Corleone　said　reasonably；　〃Surely　that's　no　concern　of　yours。　Just　remember　that　I've　done　you　a　service。〃
　
　Tessio　came　later。　Tessio　was　more　reserved　than　Clemenza；　sharper；　more　clever　but　with　less　force。　He　sensed　something　amiss；　something　not　quite　right。　He　was　a　little　worried。　He　said　to　Vito　Corleone；　〃Watch　yourself　with　that　bastard　of　a　Black　Hand；　he's　tricky　as　a　priest。　Do　you　want　me　to　be　here　when　you　hand　him　the　money；　as　a　witness？〃
　
　Vito　Corleone　shook　his　head。　He　didn't　even　bother　to　answer。　He　merely　said　to　Tessio；　〃Tell　Fanucci　I'll　pay　him　the　money　here；　in　my　house　at　nine　o'clock　tonight。　I'll　have　to　give　him　a　glass　of　wine　and　talk；　reason　with　him　to　take　the　lesser　sum。〃
　
　Tessio　shook　his　head。　〃You　won't　have　much　luck。　Fanucci　never　retreats。〃
　
　〃I'll　reason　with　him；〃　Vito　Corleone　said。　It　was　to　bee　a　famous　phrase　in　the　years　to　e。　It　was　to　bee　the　warning　rattle　before　a　deadly　strike。　When　he　became　a　Don　and　asked　opponents　to　sit　down　and　reason　with　him；　they　understood　it　was　the　last　chance　to　resolve　an　affair　without　bloodshed　and　murder。
　
　Vito　Corleone　told　his　wife　to　take　the　two　children；　Sonny　and　Fredo；　down　into　the　street　after　supper　and　on　no　account　to　let　them　e　up　to　the　house　until　he　gave　her　permission。　She　was　to　sit　on　guard　at　the　tenement　door。　He　had　some　private　business　with　Fanucci　that　could　not　be　interrupted。　He　saw　the　look　of　fear　on　her　face　and　was　angry。　He　said　to　her　quietly；　〃Do　you　think　you've　married　a　fool？〃　She　didn't　answer。　She　did　not　answer　because　she　was　frightened；　not　of　Fanucci　now；　but　of　her　husband。　He　was　changing　visibly　before　her　eyes；　hour　by　hour；　into　a　man　who　radiated　some　dangerous　force。　He　had　always　been　quiet；　speaking　little；　but　always　gentle；　always　reasonable；　which　was　extraordinary　in　a　young　Sicilian　male。　What　she　was　seeing　was　the　shedding　of　his　protective　coloration　of　a　harmless　nobody　now　that　he　was　ready　to　start　on　his　destiny。　He　had　started　late；　he　was　twenty…five　years　old；　but　he　was　to　start　with　a　flourish。
　
　Vito　Corleone　had　decided　to　murder　Fanucci。　By　doing　so　he　would　have　an　extra　seven　hundred　dollars　in　his　bankroll。　The　three　hundred　dollars　he　himself　would　have　to　pay　the　Black　Hand　terrorist　and　the　two　hundred　dollars　from　Tessio　and　the　two　hundred　dollars　from　Clemenza。　If　he　did　not　kill　Fanucci；　he　would　have　to　pay　the　man　seven　hundred　dollars　cold　cash。　Fanucci　alive　was　not　worth　seven　hundred　dollars　to　him。　He　would　not　pay　seven　hundred　dollars　to　keep　Fanucci　alive。　If　Fanucci　needed　seven　hundred　dollars　for　an　operation　to　save　his　life；　he　would　not　give　Fanucci　seven　hundred　dollars　for　the　surgeon。　He　owed　Fanucci　no　personal　debt　of　gratitude；　they　were　not　blood　relatives；　he　did　not　love　Fanucci。　Why；　then；　should　he　give　Fanucci　seven　hundred　dollars？
　
　And　it　followed　inevitably；　that　since　Fanucci　wished　to　take　seven　hundred　dollars　from　him　by　force；　why　should　he　not　kill　Fanucci？　Surely　the　world　could　do　without　such　a　person。
　
　There　were　of　course　some　practical　reasons。　Fanucci　might　indeed　have　powerful　friends　who　would　seek　vengeance。　Fanucci　himself　was　a　dangerous　man；　not　so　easily　killed。　There　were　the　police　and　the　electric　chair。　But　Vito　Corleone　had　lived　under　a　sentence　of　death　since　the　murder　of　his　father。　As　a　boy　of　twelve　he　had　fled　his　executioners　and　crossed　the　ocean　into　a　strange　land；　taking　a　strange　name。　And　years　of　quiet　observation　had　convinced　him　that　he　had　more　intelligence　and　more　courage　than　other　men；　though　he　had　never　had　the　opportunity　to　use　that　intelligence　and　courage。
　
　And　yet　he　hesitated　before　taking　the　first　step　toward　his　destiny。　He　even　packed　the　seven　hundred　dollars　in　a　single　fold　of　bills　and　put　the　money　in　a　convenient　sick　pocket　of　his　trousers。　But　he　put　the　money　in　the　left　side　of　his　trousers。　In　the　right…hand　pocket　he　put　the　gun　Clemenza　had　given　him　to　use　in　the　hijacking　of　the　silk　truck。
　
　Fanucci　came　promptly　at　nine　in　the　evening。　Vito　Corleone　set　out　a　jug　of　homemade　wine　that　Clemenza　had　given　him。
　
　Fanucci　put　his　white　fedora　on　the　table　beside　the　jug　of　wine。　He　loosened　his　broad　multiflowered　tie；　its　tomato　stains　camouflaged　by　the　bright　patterns。　The　summer　night　was　hot；　the　gaslight　feeble。　It　was　very　quiet　in　the　apartment。　But　Vito　Corleone　was　icy。　To　show　his　good　faith　he　handed　over　the　roll　of　bills　and　watched　carefully　as　Fanucci；　after　counting　it；　took　out　a　wide　leather　wallet　and　stuffed　the　money　inside。　Fanucci　sipped　his　glass　of　wine　and　said；　〃You　still　owe　me　two　hundred　dollars。〃　His　heavy…browed　face　was　expressionless。
　
　Vito　Corleone　said　in　his　cool　reasonable　voice；　〃I'm　a　little　short；　I've　been　out　of　work。　Let　me　owe　you　the　money　for　a　few　weeks。〃
　
　This　was　a　permissible　gambit。　Fanucci　had　the　bulk　of　the　money　and　would　wait。　He　might　even　be　persuaded　to　take　nothing　more　or　to　wait　a　little　longer。　He　chuckled　over　his　wine　and　said；　〃Ah；　you're　a　sharp　young　fellow。　How　is　it　I've　never　noticed　you　before？　You're　too　quiet　a　chap　for　your　own　interest。　I　could　find　some　work　for　you　to　do　that　would　be　very　profitable。〃
　
　Vito　Corleone　showed　his　interest　with　a　polite　nod　and　filled　up　the　man's　glass　from　the　purple　jug。　But　Fanucci　thought