planned to rob him of the money he had risked his life and freedom to earn. He had not
been afraid. Indeed he thought, at that moment, that Fanucci was a crazy fool. From
what he had seen of Clemenza, that burly Sicilian would sooner give up his life than a
penny of his loot. After all, Clemenza had been ready to kill a policeman merely to steal
a rug. And the slender Tessio had the deadly air of a viper (гадюка ['vaıp∂]).
But later that night, in Clemenza's tenement apartment across the air shaft, Vito
Corleone received another lesson in the education he had just begun. Clemenza cursed,
Tessio scowled (to scowl [skaul] – хмуриться, смотреть сердито), but then both men
started talking about whether Fanucci would be satisfied with two hundred dollars.
Tessio thought he might.
Clemenza was positive. "No, that scarface bastard must have found out what we
made from the wholesaler who bought the dresses. Fanucci won't take a dime less than
three hundred dollars. We'll have to pay."
Vito was astonished but was careful not to show his astonishment. "Why do we have
to pay him? What 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 cops
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
41
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 wielded 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 (взимать налог: levy [‘levı]) 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 man 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 become again a
grocery clerk with perhaps his own grocery store in the years to come. But destiny had
decided that he was to become 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
42
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 (to peer – вглядываться, всматриваться) 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 (не твоя забота).
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 become a famous phrase in the
years to come. It was to become the warning rattle (предупреждающий треск) 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 come 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
43
was seeing was the shedding (to shed – ронять, терять, сбрасывать /одежду, кожу/)
of his protective coloration of a harmless nobody now that he was ready to start on his
destiny (судьба). 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 (roll – свиток, сверток; /сленг/ пачка денег). The