The Godfather

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.”

He had not once raised his voice but his words had a sobering effect on both Greene and Freddie. Michael stared at both of them, moving away from the table to indicate that he expected them both to leave. Hagen went to the door and opened it. Both men left without saying good night.

* * *

The next morning Michael Corleone got the message from Moe Greene: he would not sell his share of the hotel at any price. It was Freddie who delivered the message. Michael shrugged and said to his brother, “I want to see Nino before I go back to New York.”

In Nino’s suite they found Johnny Fontane sitting on the couch eating breakfast. Jules was examining Nino behind the closed drapes of the bedroom. Finally the drapes were drawn back. Michael was shocked at how Nino looked. The man was visibly disintegrating. The eyes were dazed, the mouth loose, all the muscles of his face slack. Michael sat on his bedside and said, “Nino, it’s good to catch up with you. The Don always asks about you.”

Nino grinned, it was the old grin. “Tell him I’m dying. Tell him show business is more dangerous than the olive oil business.”

“You’ll be OK,” Michael said. “If there’s anything bothering you that the Family can help, just tell me.”

Nino shook his head. “There’s nothing,” he said. “Nothing.”

Michael chatted for a few more moments and then left. Freddie accompanied him and his party to the airport, but at Michael’s request didn’t hang around for departure time. As he boarded the plane with Tom Hagen and Al Neri, Michael turned to Neri and said, “Did you make him good?”

Neri tapped his forehead. “I got Moe Greene mugged and numbered up here.”

Chapter 28

On the plane ride back to New York, Michael Corleone relaxed and tried to sleep. It was useless. The most terrible period of his life was approaching, perhaps even a fatal time. It could no longer be put off. Everything was in readiness, all precautions had been taken, two years of precautions. There could be no further delay. Last week when the Don had formally announced his retirement to the caporegimes and other members of the Corleone Family, Michael knew that this was his father’s way of telling him the time was ripe.