The Godfather - Puzo Mario - Страница 102
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Tom Hagen lowered his head and smiled. Not even the Don himself could have done it any better.
Jules was flushing. “Mike, I didn’t mean it that way at all. I’m very grateful to you and your father. Forget I said it.”
Michael nodded and said, “Fine. Until the hospital gets built and opens up you’ll be medical director for the four hotels. Get yourself a staff. Your money goes up too, but you can discuss that with Tom at a later time. And Lucy, I want you to do something more important. Maybe coordinate all the shops that will be opening up in the hotel arcades. On the financial side. Or maybe hiring the girls we need to work in the casinos. something like that. So if Jules doesn’t marry you, you can be a rich old maid.”
Freddie had been puffing on his cigar angrily. Michael turned to him and said gently, “I’m just the errand boy for the Don, Freddie. What he wants you to do he’ll tell you himself, naturally, but I’m sure it will be something big enough to make you happy. Everybody tells us what a great job you’ve been doing here.”
“Then why is he sore at me?” Freddie asked plaintively. “Just because the casino has been losing money? I don’t control that end, Moe Greene does. What the hell does the old man want from me?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael said. He turned to Johnny Fontane. “Where’s Nino? I was looking forward to seeing him again.”
Johnny shrugged. “Nino is pretty sick. A nurse is taking care of him in his room. But the doc here says he should be committed, that he’s trying to kill himself. Nino!”
Michael said thoughtfully, really surprised, “Nino was always a real good guy. I never knew him to do anything lousy, say anything to put anybody down. He never gave a damn about anything. Except the booze.”
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “The money is rolling in, he could get a lot of work, singing or in the movies. He gets fifty grand a picture now and he blows it. He doesn’t give a damn about being famous. All the years we’ve been buddies I’ve never known him to do anything creepy. And the son of a bitch is drinking himself to death.”
Jules was about to say something when there was a knock on the door of the suite. He was surprised when the man in the armchair, the man nearest the door, did not answer it but kept reading the newspaper. It was Hagen who went to open it. And was almost brushed aside when Moe Greene came striding into the room followed by his two bodyguards.
Moe Greene was a handsome hood who had made his rep as a Murder Incorporated executioner in Brooklyn. He had branched out into gambling and gone west to seek his fortune, had been the first person to see the possibilities of Las Vegas and built one of the first hotel casinos on the Strip. He still had murderous tantrums and was feared by everyone in the hotel, not excluding Freddie, Lucy and Jules Segal. They always stayed out of his way whenever possible.
His handsome face was grim now. He said to Michael Corleone, “I’ve been waiting around to talk to you, Mike. I got a lot of things to do tomorrow so I figured I’d catch you tonight. How about it?”
Michael Corleone looked at him with what seemed to be friendly astonishment. “Sure,” he said. He motioned in Hagen’s direction. “Get Mr. Greene a drink, Tom.”
Jules noticed that the man called Albert Neri was studying Moe Greene intently, not paying any attention to the bodyguards who were leaning against the door. He knew there was no chance of any violence, not in Vegas itself. That was strictly forbidden as fatal to the whole project of making Vegas the legal sanctuary of American gamblers.
Moe Greene said to his bodyguards, “Draw some chips for all these people so that they can gamble on the house.” He obviously meant Jules, Lucy, Johnny Fontane and Michael’s bodyguard, Albert Neri.
Michael Corleone nodded agreeably. “That’s a good idea.” It was only then that Neri got out of his chair and prepared to follow the others out.
After the good-byes were said, there were Freddie, Tom Hagen, Moe Greene and Michael Corleone left in the room.
Greene put his drink down on the table and said with barely controlled fury, “What’s this I hear the Corleone Family is going to buy me out? I’ll buy you out. You don’t buy me out.”
Michael said reasonably, “Your casino has been losing money against all the odds. There’s something wrong with the way you operate. Maybe we can do better.”
Greene laughed harshly. “You goddamn Dagos, I do you a favor and take Freddie in when you’re having a bad time and now you push me out. That’s what you think. I don’t get pushed out by nobody and I got friends that will back me up.”
Michael was still quietly reasonable. “You took Freddie in because the Corleone Family gave you a big chunk of money to finish furnishing your hotel. And bankroll your casino. And because the Molinari Family on the Coast guaranteed his safety and gave you some service for taking him in. The Corleone Family and you are evened out. I don’t know what you’re getting sore about. We’ll buy your share at any reasonable price you name, what’s wrong with that? What’s unfair about that? With your casino losing money we’re doing you a favor.”
Greene shook his head. “The Corleone Family don’t have that much muscle anymore. The Godfather is sick. You’re getting chased out of New York by the other Families and you think you can find easier pickings here. I’ll give you some advice, Mike, don’t try.”
Michael said softly, “Is that why you thought you could slap Freddie around in public?”
Tom Hagen, startled, turned his attention to Freddie. Freddie Corleone’s face was getting red. “Ah, Mike, that wasn’t anything. Moe didn’t mean anything. He flies off the handle sometimes, but me and him are good friends. Right, Moe?”
Greene was wary. “Yeah, sure. Sometimes I got to kick asses to make this place run right. I got sore at Freddie because he was banging all the cocktail waitresses and letting them goof off on the job. We had a little argument and I straightened him out.”
Michael’s face was impassive when he said to his brother, “You straightened out, Freddie?”
Freddie stared sullenly at his younger brother. He didn’t answer. Greene laughed and said, “The son of a bitch was taking them to bed two at a time, the old sandwich job. Freddie, I gotta admit you really put it to those broads. Nobody else could make them happy after you got through with them.”
Hagen saw that this had caught Michael by surprise. They looked at each other. This was perhaps the real reason the Don was displeased with Freddie. The Don was straitlaced about sex. He would consider such cavorting by his son Freddie, two girls at a time, as degeneracy. Allowing himself to be physically humiliated by a man like Moe Greene would decrease respect for the Corleone Family. That too would be part of the reason for being in his father’s bad books.
Michael rising from his chair, said, in a tone of dismissal, “I have to get back to New York tomorrow, so think about your price.”
Greene said savagely, “You son of a bitch, you think you can just brush me off like that? I killed more men than you before I could jerk off. I’ll fly to New York and talk to the Don himself. I’ll make him an offer.”
Freddie said nervously to Tom Hagen, “Tom, you’re the Consigliere, you can talk to the Don and advise him.”
It was then that Michael turned the full chilly blast of his personality on the two Vegas men. “The Don has sort of semiretired,” he said. “I’m running the Family business now. And I’ve removed Tom from the Consigliere spot. He’ll be strictly my lawyer here in Vegas. He’ll be moving out with his family in a couple of months to get all the legal work started. So anything you have to say, say it to me.”
Nobody answered. Michael said formally, “Freddie, you’re my older brother, I have respect for you. But don’t ever take sides with anybody against the Family again. I won’t even mention it to the Don.” He turned to Moe Greene. “Don’t insult people who are trying to help you. You’d do better to use your energy to find out why the casino is losing money. The Corleone Family has big dough invested here and we’re not getting our money’s worth, but I still didn’t come here to abuse you. I offer a helping hand. Well, if you prefer to spit on that helping hand, that’s your business. I can’t say any more.”
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