mp.godfather-第42部分

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　The　next　day　on　the　street；　Vito　Corleoue　was　stopped　by　the　cream…suited；　white…fedoraed　Fanucci。　Fanucci　was　a　brutal…looking　man　and　he　had　done　nothing　to　disguise　the　circular　scar　that　stretched　in　a　white　semicircle　from　ear　to　ear；　looping　under　his　chin。　He　had　heavy　black　brows　and　coarse　features　which；　when　he　smiled；　were　in　some　odd　way　amiable。
　
　He　spoke　with　a　very　thick　Sicilian　accent。　〃Ah；　young　fellow；〃　he　said　to　Vito。　〃People　tell　me　you're　rich。　You　and　your　two　friends。　But　don't　you　think　you've　treated　me　a　little　shabbily？　After　all；　this　is　my　neighborhood　and　yon　should　let　me　wet　my　beak。〃　He　used　the　Sicilian　phrase　of　the　Mafia；　〃Fari　vagnari　a　pizzu。〃　Pizzu　means　the　beak　of　any　small　bird　such　as　a　canary。　The　phrase　itself　was　a　demand　for　part　of　the　loot。
　
　As　was　his　habit；　Vito　Corleone　did　not　answer。　He　understood　the　implication　immediately　and　was　waiting　for　a　definite　demand。
　
　Fanucci　smiled　at　him；　showing　gold　teeth　and　stretching　his　nooses…like　scar　tight　around　his　face。　He　mopped　his　face　with　a　handkerchief　and　unbuttoned　his　jacket　for　a　moment　as　if　to　cool　himself　but　really　to　show　the　gun　he　carried　stuck　in　the　waistband　of　his　fortably　wide　trousers。　Then　he　sighed　and　said；　〃Give　me　five　hundred　dollars　and　I'll　forget　the　insult。　After　all；　young　people　don't　know　the　courtesies　due　a　man　like　myself。〃
　
　Vito　Corleone　smiled　at　him　and　even　as　a　young　man　still　unblooded；　there　was　something　so　chilling　in　his　smile　that　Fanucci　hesitated　a　moment　before　going　on。　〃Otherwise　the　police　will　e　to　see　you；　your　wife　and　children　will　be　shamed　and　destitute。　Of　course　if　my　information　as　to　your　gains　is　incorrect　I'll　dip　my　beak　just　a　little。　But　no　less　than　three　hundred　dollars。　And　don't　try　to　deceive　me。〃
　
　For　the　first　time　Vito　Corleone　spoke。　His　voice　was　reasonable；　showed　no　anger。　It　was　courteous；　as　befitted　a　young　man　speaking　to　an　older　man　of　Fanucci's　eminence。　He　said　softly；　〃My　two　friend　have　my　share　of　the　money；　rll　have　to　speak　to　them。〃
　
　Fanucci　was　reassured。　〃You　can　tell　your　two　friends　that　I　expect　them　to　let　me　wet　my　beak　in　the　same　manner。　Don't　be　afraid　to　tell　them；〃　he　added　reassuringly。　〃Clemenza　and　I　know　each　other　well；　he　understands　these　things。　Let　yourself　be　guided　by　him。　He　has　more　experience　in　these　matters。〃
　
　Vito　Corleone　shrugged。　He　tried　to　look　a　little　embarrassed。　〃Of　course；〃　he　said。　〃You　understand　this　is　all　new　to　me。　Thank　you　for　speaking　to　me　as　a　godfather。〃
　
　Fanucci　was　impressed。　〃You're　a　good　fellow；〃　he　said。　He　took　Vito's　hand　and　clasped　it　in　both　of　his　hairy　ones。　〃You　have　respect；〃　he　said。　〃A　fine　thing　in　the　young。　Next　time　speak　to　me　first；　eh？　Perhaps　I　can　help　you　in　your　plans。〃
　
　In　later　years　Vito　Corleone　understood　that　what　had　made　him　act　in　such　a　perfect；　tactical　way　with　Fanucci　was　the　death　of　his　own　hot…tempered　father　who　had　been　killed　by　the　Mafia　in　Sicily。　But　at　that　time　all　he　felt　was　an　icy　rage　that　this　man　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。
　
　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；　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　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　terroris