Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
asked, "If I don't pay you, what happens to my furnace?"
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The leader of the three men shrugged. "We just leave the furnace the way it is now."
He gestured at the metal parts strewn over the floor.
The Don said meekly, "Wait, I'll get you your money." Then he went out into the
garden and said to Sonny, "Listen, there's some men working on the furnace, I don't
understand what they want. Go in and take care of the matter." It was not simply a joke;
he was considering making his son his underboss. This was one of the tests a business
executive had to pass.
Sonny's solution did not altogether please his father. It was too direct, too lacking in
Sicilian subtleness. He was the Club (дубинка), not the Rapier. For as soon as Sonny
heard the leader's demand he held the three men at gunpoint and had them thoroughly
bastinadoed (приказал как следует отколотить; bastinado [bжstı’neıd∂u]– палочные
удары) by the bodyguards. Then he made them put the furnace together again and tidy
up the basement. He searched them and found that they actually were employed by a
house-improvement firm with headquarters in Suffolk County. He learned the name of
the man who owned the firm. Then he kicked the three men to their truck. "Don't let me
see you in Long Beach again," he told them. "I'll have your balls hanging from your
ears."
It was typical of the young Santino, before he became older and crueler, that he
extended his protection to the community he lived in. Sonny paid a personal call to the
home-improvement firm owner and told him not to send any of his men into the Long
Beach area ever again. As soon as the Corleone Family set up their usual business
liaison with the local police force they were informed of all such complaints and all
crimes by professional criminals. In less than a year Long Beach became the most
crime-free town of its size in the United States. Professional stickup artists and strong-
arms received one warning not to ply (усердно работать, заниматься чем-либо; ply –
сгиб, складка; уклон, склонность) their trade in the town. They were allowed one
offense (обида, оскорбление; проступок, нарушение; преступление). When they
committed a second they simply disappeared. The flimflam (трюк, мошенническая
проделка) home-improvement gyp (мошенничество; плут) artists, the door-to-door
con men (жулики /сленг/) were politely warned that they were not welcome in Long
Beach. Those confident con men who disregarded the warning were beaten within an
inch of their lives (чуть не до смерти; within an inch of = closely, near to). Resident
young punks who had no respect for law and proper authority were advised in the most
fatherly fashion to run away from home. Long Beach became a model city.
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What impressed the Don was the legal validity (действительность, законность
[v∂'lıdıtı]; valid [‘vжlıd] – действительный, имеющий силу) of these sales swindles
(swindle – надувательство). Clearly there was a place for a man of his talents in that
other world which had been closed to him as an honest youth. He took appropriate
steps to enter that world.
And so he lived happily on the mall in Long Beach, consolidating and enlarging his
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empire, until after the war was over, the Turk Sollozzo broke the peace and plunged the
Don's world into its own war, and brought him to his hospital bed.
Book 4
Chapter 15
In the New Hampshire village, every foreign phenomenon was properly noticed by
housewives peering from windows, storekeepers lounging (to lounge – сидеть
развалясь, праздно проводить время) behind their doors. And so when the black
automobile bearing New York license plates stopped in front of the Adams' home, every
citizen knew about it in a matter of minutes.
Kay Adams, really a small-town girl despite her college education, was also peering
from her bedroom window. She had been studying for her exams and preparing to go
downstairs for lunch when she spotted the car coming up the street, and for some
reason she was not surprised when it rolled to a halt (/автомобиль/ остановился) in
front of her lawn. Two men got out, big burly men who looked like gangsters in the
movies to her eyes, and she flew down the stairs to be the first at the door. She was
sure they came from Michael or his family and she didn't want them talking to her father
and mother without any introduction. It wasn't that she was ashamed of any of Mike's
friends, she thought; it was just that her mother and father were old-fashioned New
England Yankees and wouldn't understand her even knowing such people.
She got to the door just as the bell rang and she called to her mother, "I'll get it." She
opened the door and the two big men stood there. One reached inside his breast pocket
like a gangster reaching for a gun and the move so surprised Kay that she let out a little
gasp but the man had taken out a small leather case which he flapped open to show an
identification card. "I'm Detective John Phillips from the New York Police Department,"
he said. He motioned to the other man, a dark-complexioned man with very thick, very
black eyebrows. "This is my partner, Detective Siriani. Are you Miss Kay Adams?"
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Kay nodded. Phillips said, "May we come in and talk to you for a few minutes. It's
about Michael Corleone."
She stood aside to let them in. At that moment her father appeared in the small side
hall that led to his study. "Kay, what is it?" he asked.
Her father was a gray-haired, slender, distinguished-looking man who not only was
the pastor of the town Baptist church but had a reputation in religious circles as a
scholar. Kay really didn't know her father well, he puzzled her, but she knew he loved
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her even if he gave the impression he found her uninteresting as a person. Though they
had never been close, she trusted him. So she said simply, "These men are detectives
frorn New York. They want to ask me questions about a boy I know."
Mr. Adams didn't seem surprised. "Why don't we go into my study?" he said.
Detective Phillips said gently, "We'd rather talk to your daughter alone, Mr. Adams."
Mr. Adams said courteously, "That depends on Kay, I think. My dear, would you rather
speak to these gentlemen alone or would you prefer to have me present? Or perhaps
your mother?"
Kay shook her head. "I'll talk to them alone."
Mr. Adams said to Phillips, "You can use my study. Will you stay for lunch?" The two
men shook their heads. Kay led them into the study.
They rested uncomfortably on the edge of the couch as she sat in her father's big
leather chair. Detective Phillips opened the conversation by saying, "Miss Adams, have
you seen or heard from Michael Corleone at any time in the last three weeks?" The one
question was enough to warn her. Three weeks ago she had read the Boston
newspapers with their headlines about the killing of a New York police captain and a
narcotics smuggler named Virgil Sollozzo. The newspaper had said it was part of the
gang war involving the Corleone Farnily.
Kay shook her head. "No, the last time I saw him he was going to see his father in the
hospital. That was perhaps a month ago."
The other detective said in a harsh voice, "We know all about that meeting. Have you
seen or heard from him since then?"
"No," Kay said.
Detective Phillips said in a polite voice, "If you do have contact with him we'd like you
to let us know. It's very important we get to talk to Michael Corleone. I must warn you
that if you do have contact with him you may be getting involved in a very dangerous
situation. If you help him in any way, you may get yourself in very serious trouble."
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Kay sat up very straight in the chair. "Why shouldn't I help him?" she asked. "We're
going to be married, married people help each other."
It was Detective Siriani who answered her. "If you help, you may be an accessory
(добавочный, вспомогательный; /здесь/ соучастник [∂k'ses∂ri]) to murder. We're
looking for your boy friend because he killed a police captain in New York plus an
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informer the police officer was contacting. We know Michael Corleone is the person who
did the shooting."
Kay laughed. Her laughter was so unaffected, so incredulous, that the officers were
impressed. "Mike wouldn't do anything like that," she said. "He never had anything to do
with his family. When we went to his sister's wedding it was obvious that he was treated
as an outsider, almost as much as I was. If he's hiding now it's just so that he won't get
any publicity, so his name won't be dragged through all this. Mike is not a gangster. I
know him better than you or anybody else can know him. He is too nice a man to do
anything as despicable (презренный [‘despık∂bl]) as murder. He is the most law-
abiding (законопослушный) person I know, and I've never known him to lie."
Detective Phillips asked gently, "How long have you known him?"
"Over a year," Kay said and was surprised when the two men smiled.
"I think there are a few things you should know," Detective Phillips said. "On the night
he left you, he went to the hospital. When he came out he got into an argument with a
police captain who had come to the hospital on official business. He assaulted that
police officer but got the worst of it. In fact he got a broken jaw and lost some teeth. His
friends took him out to the Corleone Family houses at Long Beach. The following night
the police captain he had the fight with was gunned down and Michael Corleone
disappeared. Vanished. We have our contacts, our informers. They all point the finger at
Michael Corleone but we have no evidence for a court of law. The waiter who witnessed
the shooting doesn't recognize a picture of Mike but he may recognize him in person.
And we have Sollozzo's driver, who refuses to talk, but we might make him talk if we
have Michael Corleone in our hands. So we have all our people looking for him, the FBI
is looking for him, everybody is looking for him. So far, no luck, so we thought you might
be able to give us a lead (подсказать что-то, направить нас по верному следу)."
Kay said coldly, "I don't believe a word of it." But she felt a bit sick knowing the part
about Mike getting his jaw broken must be true. Not that that would make Mike commit
murder.
"Will you let us know if Mike contacts you?" Phillips asked.
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Kay shook her head. The other detective, Siriani, said roughly, "We know you two
have been shacking up together. We have the hotel records and witnesses. If we let
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that information slip to the newspapers your father and mother would feel pretty lousy.
Real respectable people like them wouldn't think much of a daughter shacking up with a
gangster. If you don't come clean right now I'll call your old man in here and give it to
him straight."
Kay looked at him with astonishment. Then she got up and went to the door of the
study and opened it. She could see her father standing at the living-room window,
sucking at his pipe. She called out, "Dad, can you join us?" He turned, smiled at her,
and walked to the study. When he came through the door he put his arm around his
daughter's waist and faced the detectives and said, "Yes, gentlemen?"
When they didn't answer, Kay said coolly to Detective Siriani, "Give it to him straight,
officer."
Siriani flushed. "Mr. Adams, I'm telling you this for your daughter's good. She is mixed
up with a hoodlum we have reason to believe committed a murder on a police officer.
I'm just telling her she can get into serious trouble unless she cooperates with us. But
she doesn't seem to realize how serious this whole matter is. Maybe you can talk to
her."
"That is quite incredible," Mr. Adams said politely.
Siriani jutted his jaw. "Your daughter and Michael Corleone have been going out
together for over a year. They have stayed overnight in hotels together registered as
man and wife. Michael Corleone is wanted for questioning in the murder of a police
officer. Your daughter refuses to give us any information that may help us. Those are
the facts. You can call them incredible but I can back everything up."
"I don't doubt your word, sir," Mr. Adams said gently. "What I find incredible is that my
daughter could be in serious trouble. Unless you're suggesting that she is a" – here his
face became one of scholarly doubt – "a 'moll (любовница гангстера [mol]),' I believe
it's called."
Kay looked at her father in astonishment. She knew he was being playful in his
donnish (педантичный, высокомерный, чванный) way and she was surprised that he
could take the whole affair so lightly.
Mr. Adams said firmly, "However, rest assured that if the young man shows his face
here I shall immediately report his presence to the authorities. As will my daughter. Now,
if you will forgive us, our lunch is growing cold."
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He ushered the men out of the house with every courtesy and closed the door on their
backs gently but firmly. He took Kay by the arm and led her toward the kitchen far in the
