mp.godfather-第62部分

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p；〃　he　said　and　there　was　no　mistaking　the　menace　in　his　voice。　She　stood　there　not　moving　and　he　swung　the　belt　against　her　heavily　padded　hips；　the　leather　stinging　but　not　really　hurting。　Connie　retreated　to　the　kitchen　cabinets　and　her　hand　went　into　one　of　the　drawers　to　haul　out　the　long　bread　knife。　She　held　it　ready。
　
　Carlo　laughed。　〃Even　the　female　Corleones　are　murderers；〃　he　said。　He　put　the　belt　down　on　the　kitchen　table　and　advanced　toward　her。　She　tried　a　sudden　lunge　but　her　pregnant　heavy　body　made　her　slow　and　he　eluded　the　thrust　she　aimed　at　his　groin　in　such　deadly　earnest。　He　disarmed　her　easily　and　then　he　started　to　slap　her　face　with　a　slow　medium…heavy　stroke　so　as　not　to　break　the　skin。　He　hit　her　again　and　again　as　she　retreated　around　the　kitchen　table　trying　to　escape　him　and　he　pursued　her　into　the　bedroom。　She　tried　to　bite　his　hand　and　he　grabbed　her　by　the　hair　to　lift　her　head　up。　He　slapped　her　face　until　she　began　to　weep　like　a　little　girl；　with　pain　and　humiliation。　Then　he　threw　her　contemptuously　onto　the　bed。　He　drank　from　the　bottle　of　whiskey　still　on　the　night　table。　He　seemed　very　drunk　now；　his　light　blue　eyes　had　a　crazy　glint　in　them　and　finally　Connie　was　truly　afraid。
　
　Carlo　straddled　his　legs　apart　and　drank　from　the　bottle。　He　reached　down　and　grabbed　a　chunk　of　her　pregnant　heavy　thigh　in　his　hand。　He　squeezed　very　hard；　hurting　her　and　making　her　beg　for　mercy。　〃You're　fat　as　a　pig；〃　he　said　with　disgust　and　walked　out　of　the　bedroom。
　
　Thoroughly　frightened　and　cowed；　she　lay　in　the　bed；　not　daring　to　see　what　her　husband　was　doing　in　the　other　room。　Finally　she　rose　and　went　to　the　door　to　peer　into　the　living　room。　Carlo　had　opened　a　fresh　bottle　of　whiskey　and　was　sprawled　on　the　sofa。　In　a　little　while　he　would　drink　himself　into　sodden　sleep　and　she　could　sneak　into　the　kitchen　and　call　her　family　in　Long　Beach。　She　would　tell　her　mother　to　send　someone　out　here　to　get　her。　She　just　hoped　Sonny　didn't　answer　the　phone；　she　knew　it　would　be　best　to　talk　to　Tom　Hagen　or　her　mother。
　
　It　was　nearly　ten　o'clock　at　night　when　the　kitchen　phone　in　Don　Corleone's　house　rang。　It　was　answered　by　one　of　the　Don's　bodyguards　who　dutifully　turned　the　phone　over　to　Connie's　mother。　But　Mrs。　Corleone　could　hardly　understand　what　her　daughter　was　saying；　the　girl　was　hysterical　yet　trying　to　whisper　so　that　her　husband　in　the　next　room　would　not　hear　her。　Also　her　face　had　bee　swollen　because　of　the　slaps；　and　her　puffy　lips　thickened　her　speech。　Mrs。　Corleone　made　a　sign　to　the　bodyguard　that　he　should　call　Sonny；　who　was　in　the　living　room　with　Tom　Hagen。
　
　Sonny　came　into　the　kitchen　and　took　the　phone　from　his　mother。　〃Yeah；　Connie；〃　he　said。
　
　Connie　was　so　frightened　both　of　her　husband　and　of　what　her　brother　would　do　that　her　speech　became　worse。　She　babbled；　〃Sonny；　just　send　a　car　to　bring　me　home；　I'll　tell　you　then；　it's　nothing；　Sonny。　Don't　you　e。　Send　Tom；　please；　Sonny。　It's　nothing；　I　just　want　to　e　home。〃
　
　By　this　time　Hagen　had　e　into　the　room。　The　Don　was　already　under　a　sedated　sleep　in　the　bedroom　above　and　Hagen　wanted　to　keep　an　eye　on　Sonny　in　all　crises。　The　two　interior　bodyguards　were　also　in　the　kitchen。　Everybody　was　watching　Sonny　as　he　listened　on　the　phone。
　
　There　was　no　question　that　the　violence　in　Sonny　Corleone's　nature　rose　from　some　deep　mysterious　physical　well。　As　they　watched　they　could　actually　see　the　blood　rushing　to　his　heavily　corded　neck；　could　see　the　eyes　film　with　hatred；　the　separate　features　of　his　face　tightening；　growing　pinched；　then　his　face　took　on　the　grayish　hue　of　a　sick　man　fighting　off　some　sort　of　death；　except　that　the　adrenaline　pumping　through　his　body　made　his　hands　tremble。　But　his　voice　was　controlled；　pitched　low；　as　he　told　his　sister；　〃You　wait　there。　You　just　wait　there。〃　He　hung　up　the　phone。
　
　He　stood　there　for　a　moment　quite　stunned　with　his　own　rage；　then　he　said；　〃The　fucking　sonofabitch；　the　fucking　sonofabitch。〃　He　ran　out　of　the　house。
　
　Hagen　knew　the　look　on　Sonny's　face；　all　reasoning　power　had　left　him。　At　this　moment　Sonny　was　capable　of　anything。　Hagen　also　knew　that　the　ride　into　the　city　would　cool　Sonny　off；　make　him　more　rational。　But　that　rationality　might　make　him　even　more　dangerous；　though　the　rationality　would　enable　him　to　protect　himself　against　the　consequences　of　his　rage。　Hagen　heard　the　car　motor　roaring　into　life　and　he　said　to　the　two　bodyguards；　〃Go　after　him。〃
　
　Then　he　went　to　the　phone　and　made　some　calls。　He　arranged　for　some　men　of　Sonny's　regime　living　in　the　city　to　go　up　to　Carlo　Rizzi's　apartment　and　get　Carlo　out　of　there。　Other　men　would　stay　with　Connie　until　Sonny　arrived。　He　was　taking　a　chance；　thwarting　Sonny；　but　he　knew　the　Don　would　back　him　up。　He　was　afraid　that　Sonny　might　kill　Carlo　in　front　of　witnesses。　He　did　not　expect　trouble　from　the　enemy。　The　Five　Families　had　been　quiet　too　long　and　obviously　were　looking　for　peace　of　some　kind。
　
　By　the　time　Sonny　roared　out　of　the　mall　in　his　Buick；　he　had　already　regained；　partly；　his　senses。　He　noted　the　two　bodyguards　getting　into　a　car　to　follow　him　and　approved。　He　expected　no　danger；　the　Five　Families　had　quit　counterattacking；　were　not　really　fighting　anymore。　He　had　grabbed　his　jacket　in　the　foyer　and　there　was　a　gun　in　a　secret　dashboard　partment　of　the　car；　the　car　registered　in　the　name　of　a　member　of　his　regime；　so　that　he　personally　could　not　get　into　any　legal　trouble。　But　he　did　not　anticipate　needing　any　weapon。　He　did　not　even　know　what　he　was　going　to　do　with　Carlo　Rizzi。
　
　Now　that　he　had　a　chance　to　think；　Sonny　knew　he　could　not　kill　the　father　of　an　unborn　child；　and　that　father　his　sister's　husband。　Not　over　a　domestic　spat。　Except　that　it　was　not　just　a　domestic　spat。　Carlo　was　a　bad　guy　and　Sonny　felt　responsible　that　his　sister　had　met　the　bastard　through　him。
　
　The　paradox　in　Sonny's　violent　nature　was　that　he　could　not　hit　a　woman　and　had　never　done　so。　That　he　could　not　harm　a　child　or　anything　helpless。　When　Carlo　had　refused　to　fight　back　against　him　that　day；　it　had　kept　Sonny　from　killing　him；　plete　submission　disarmed　his　violence。　As　a　boy；　he　had　been　truly　tenderhearted。　That　he　had　bee　a　murderer　as　a　man　was　simply　his　destiny。
　
　But　he　would　settle　this　thing　once　and　for　all；　Sonny　thought；　as　he　headed　the　Buick　toward　the　causeway　that　would　take　him　over　the　water　from　Long　Beach　to　the　parkways　on　the　other　side　of　Jones　Beach。　He　always　used　this　route　when　he　went　to　New　York。　There　was　less　traffic。
　
　He　decided　he　would　send　Connie　home　with　the　bodyguards　and　then　he　would　have　a　session　with　his　brotherin…law。　What　would　happen　after　that　he　didn't　know。　If　the　bastard　had　really　hurt　Connie；　he'd　make　a　cripple　out　of　the　bastard。　But　the　wind　ing　over　the　causeway；　the　salty　freshness　of　the　air；　cooled　his　anger。　He　put　the　window　down　all　the　way。
　
　He　had　taken　the　Jones　Beach　Causeway；　as　always；　because　it　was　usually　deserted　this　time　of　night；　at　this　time　of　year；　and　he　could　speed　recklessly　until　he　hit　the　parkways　on　the　other　side。　And　even　there　traffic　would　be　light。　The　release　of　driving　very　fast　would　help　dissipate　what　he　knew　was　a　dangerous　tension。　He　had　already　left　his　bodyguards　car　far　behind。
　
　The　causeway　was　badly　lit；　there　was　not　a　single　car。　Far　ahead　he　saw　the　white　cone　of　the　manned　tollbooth。
　
　There　were　other　tollbooths　beside　it　but　they　were　staffed　only　during　the　day；　for　heavier　traffic。　Sonny　started　braking　the　Buick　and　at　the　same　time　searched　his　pockets　for　change。　He　had　none。　He　reached　for　his　wallet；　flipped　it　open　with　one　hand　and　fingered　out　a　bill。　He　came　within　the　arcade　of　light　and　he　saw　to　his　mild　surprise　a　car　in　the　tollbooth　slot　blocking　it；　the　driver　obviously　asking　some　sort　of　directions　from　the　toll　taker。　Sonny　honked　his　horn　and　the　other　car　obediently　rolled　through　to　let　his　car　slide　into　the　slot。
　
　Sonny　handed　the　toll　taker　the　dollar　bill　and　waited　for　his　change。　He　was　in　a　hurry　now　to　close　the　window。　The　Atlantic　Ocean　air　had　chilled　the　whole　car。　But　the　toll　taker　was　fumbling　with　his　change；　the　dumb　son　of　a　bitch　actually　dropped　it。　Head　and　body　disappeared　as　the　toll　man　stooped　down　in　his　booth　to　pick　up　the　money。
　
　At　that　moment　Sonny　noticed　that　the　other　car　had　not　kept　going　but　had　parked　a　few　feet　ahead；　still　blocking　his　way。　At　that　same　moment　his　lateral　vision　caught　sight　of　another　man　in　the　darkened　tollbooth　to　his　right。　But　he　did　not　have　time　to　think　about　that　because　two　men　came　out　of　the　car　parked　in　front　and　walked　toward　him。　The　toll　collector　still　had　not　appeared。　And　then　in　the　fraction　of　a　second　before　anything　actually　happened；　Santino　Corleone　knew　he　was　a　dead　man。　And　in　that　moment　his　mind　was　lucid；　drained　of　all　violence；　as　if　the　hidden　fear　finally　real　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