mp.godfather-第60节

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e　gleaming　shirt；　the　black　tie；　a　freshly　pressed　dark　suit；　dull　black　shoes　and　black　socks。　And　yet　the　effect　was　forting　instead　of　somber。　He　also　kept　his　hair　dyed　black；　an　unheard…of　frivolity　in　an　Italian　male　of　his　generation；　but　not　out　of　vanity。　Simply　because　his　hair　had　turned　a　lively　pepper　and　salt；　a　color　which　struck　him　as　unseemly　for　his　profession。
　
　After　he　finished　his　soup；　his　wife　placed　a　small　steak　before　him　with　a　few　forkfuls　of　green　spinach　oozing　yellow　oil。　He　was　a　light　eater。　When　he　finished　this　he　drank　a　cup　of　coffee　and　smoked　another　Camel　cigarette。　Over　his　coffee　he　thought　about　his　poor　daughter。　She　would　never　be　the　same。　Her　outward　beauty　had　been　restored　but　there　was　the　look　of　a　frightened　animal　in　her　eyes　that　had　made　him　unable　to　bear　the　sight　of　her。　And　so　they　had　sent　her　to　live　in　Boston　for　a　time。　Time　would　heal　her　wounds。　Pain　and　terror　was　not　so　final　as　death；　as　he　well　knew。　His　work　made　him　an　optimist。
　
　He　had　just　finished　the　coffee　when　his　phone　in　the　living　room　rang。　His　wife　never　answered　it　when　he　was　home；　so　he　got　up　and　drained　his　cup　and　stubbed　out　his　cigarette。　As　he　walked　to　the　phone　he　pulled　off　his　tie　and　started　to　unbutton　his　shirt；　getting　ready　for　his　little　nap。　Then　he　picked　up　the　phone　and　said　with　quiet　courtesy；　〃Hello。〃
　
　The　voice　on　the　other　end　was　harsh；　strained。　〃This　is　Tom　Hagen；〃　it　said。　〃I'm　calling　for　Don　Corleone；　at　his　request。〃
　
　Amerigo　Bonasera　felt　the　coffee　churning　sourly　in　his　stomach；　felt　himself　going　a　little　sick。　It　was　more　than　a　year　since　he　had　put　himself　in　the　debt　of　the　Don　to　avenge　his　daughter's　honor　and　in　that　time　the　knowledge　that　he　must　pay　that　debt　had　receded。　He　had　been　so　grateful　seeing　the　bloody　faces　of　those　two　ruffians　that　he　would　have　done　anything　for　the　Don。　But　time　erodes　gratitude　more　quickly　than　it　does　beauty。　Now　Bonasera　felt　the　sickness　of　a　man　faced　with　disaster。　His　voice　faltered　as　he　answered；　〃Yes；　I　understand。　I'm　listening。〃
　
　He　was　surprised　at　the　coldness　in　Hagen's　voice。　The　Consigliere　had　always　been　a　courteous　man；　though　not　Italian；　but　now　he　was　being　rudely　brusque。　〃You　owe　the　Don　a　service；〃　Hagen　said。　〃He　has　no　doubt　that　you　will　repay　him。　That　you　will　be　happy　to　have　this　opportunity。　In　one　hour；　not　before；　perhaps　later；　he　will　be　at　your　funeral　parlor　to　ask　for　your　help。　Be　there　to　greet　him。　Don't　have　any　people　who　work　for　you　there。　Send　them　home。　If　you　have　any　objections　to　this；　speak　now　and　I'll　inform　Don　Corleone。　He　has　other　friends　who　can　do　him　this　service。〃
　
　Amerigo　Bonasera　almost　cried　out　in　his　fright；　〃How　can　you　think　I　would　refuse　the　Godfather？　Of　course　I'll　do　anything　he　wishes。　I　haven't　forgotten　my　debt。　I'll　go　to　my　business　immediately；　at　once。〃
　
　Hagen's　voice　was　gentler　now；　but　there　was　something　strange　about　it。　〃Thank　you；〃　he　said　〃The　Don　never　doubted　you。　The　question　was　mine。　Oblige　him　tonight　and　you　can　always　e　to　me　in　any　trouble；　you'll　earn　my　personal　friendship。〃
　
　This　frightened　Amerigo　Bonasera　even　more。　He　stuttered；　〃The　Don　himself　is　ing　to　me　tonight？〃
　
　〃Yes；〃　Hagen　said。
　
　〃Then　he's　pletely　recovered　from　his　injuries；　thank　God；〃　Bonasera　said。　His　voice　made　it　a　question。
　
　There　was　a　pause　at　the　other　end　of　the　phone；　then　Hagen's　voice　said　very　quietly；　〃Yes。〃　There　was　a　click　and　the　phone　went　dead。
　
　Bonasera　was　sweating。　He　went　into　the　bedroom　and　changed　his　shirt　and　rinsed　his　mouth。　But　he　didn't　shave　or　use　a　fresh　tie。　He　put　on　the　same　one　he　had　used　during　the　day。　He　called　the　funeral　parlor　and　told　his　assistant　to　stay　with　the　bereaved　family　using　the　front　parlor　that　night。　He　himself　would　be　busy　in　the　laboratory　working　area　of　the　building。　When　the　assistant　started　asking　question　Bonesera　cut　him　off　very　curtly　and　told　him　to　follow　orders　exactly。
　
　He　put　on　his　suit　jacket　and　his　wife；　still　eating；　looked　up　at　him　in　surprise。　〃I　have　work　to　do；〃　he　said　and　she　did　not　dare　question　him　because　of　the　look　on　his　face。　Bonasera　went　out　of　the　house　and　walked　the　few　blocks　to　his　funeral　parlor。
　
　This　building　stood　by　itself　on　a　large　lot　with　a　white　picket　fence　running　all　around　it。　There　was　a　narrow　roadway　leading　from　the　street　to　the　rear；　just　wide　enough　for　ambulances　and　hearses。　Bonasera　unlocked　the　gate　and　left　it　open。　Then　he　walked　to　the　rear　of　the　building　and　entered　it　through　the　wide　door　there。　As　he　did　so　he　could　see　mourners　already　entering　the　front　door　of　the　funeral　parlor　to　pay　their　respects　to　the　current　corpse。
　
　Many　years　ago　when　Bonasgra　had　bought　this　building　from　an　undertaker　planning　to　retire；　there　had　been　a　stoop　of　about　ten　steps　that　mourners　had　to　mount　before　entering　the　funeral　parlor。　This　had　posed　a　problem。　Old　and　crippled　mourners　determined　to　pay　their　respects　had　found　the　steps　almost　impossible　to　mount；　so　the　former　undertaker　had　used　the　freight　elevator　for　these　people；　a　small　metal　platform；　that　rose　out　of　the　ground　beside　the　building。　The　elevator　was　for　coffins　and　bodies。　It　would　descend　underground；　then　rise　into　the　funeral　parlor　itself；　so　that　a　crippled　mourner　would　find　himself　rising　through　the　floor　beside　the　coffin　as　other　mourners　moved　their　black　chairs　aside　to　let　the　elevator　rise　throngh　the　trapdoor。　Then　when　the　crippled　or　aged　mourner　had　finished　paying　his　respects；　the　elevator　would　again　e　up　through　the　polished　floor　to　take　him　down　and　out　again。
　
　Amerigo　Bonasera　had　found　this　solution　to　the　problem　upseernly　and　penny…pinching。　So　he　had　had　the　front　of　the　building　remodeled；　the　stoop　done　away　with　and　a　slightly　inclining　walk　put　in　its　place。　But　of　course　the　elevator　was　still　used　for　coffins　and　corpses。
　
　In　the　rear　of　the　building；　cut　off　from　the　funeral　parlor　and　reception　rooms　by　a　massive　soundproof　door；　was　the　business　office；　the　embalming　room；　a　storeroom　for　coffins；　and　a　carefully　locked　closet　holding　chemicals　and　the　awful　tools　of　his　trade。　Bonasera　went　to　the　office；　sat　at　his　desk　and　lit　up　a　Camel；；one　of　the　few　times　he　had　ever　smoked　in　this　building。　Then　he　waited　for　Don　Corleone。
　
　He　waited　with　a　feeling　of　the　utmost　despair。　For；　he　had　no　doubt　as　to　what　services　he　would　be　called　upon　to　perform。　For　the　last　year　the　Corleone　Family　had　waged　war　against　the　five　great　Mafia　Families　of　New　York　and　the　carnage　had　filled　the　newspapers。　Many　men　on　both　sides　had　been　killed。　Now　the　Corleone　Family　had　killed　somebody　so　important　that　they　wished　to　hide　his　body；　make　it　disappear；　and　what　better　way　than　to　have　it　officially　buried　by　a　registered　undertaker？　And　Amerigo　Bonasera　had　no　illusions　about　the　act　he　was　to　mit。　He　would　be　an　accessory　to　murder。　If　it　came　out；　he　would　spend　years　in　jail。　His　daughter　and　wife　would　be　disgraced；　his　good　name；　the　respected　name　of　Amerigo　Bonasera；　dragged　through　the　bloody；　mud　of　the　Mafia　war。
　
　He　indulged　himself　by　smoking　another　Camel。　And　then　he　thought　of　something　even　more　terrifying。　When　the　other　Mafia　Families　found　out　that　he　had　aided　the　Corleones　they　would　treat　him　as　an　enemy。　They　would　murder　him。　And　now　he　cursed　the　day　he　had　gone　to　the　Godfather　and　begged　for　his　vengeance。　He　cursed　the　day　his　wife　and　the　wife　of　Don　Corleone　had　bee　friends。　He　cursed　his　daughter　and　America　and　his　own　success。　And　then　his　optimism　returned。　It　could　all　go　well。　Don　Corleone　was　a　clever　man。　Certainly　everything　had　been　arranged　to　keep　the　secret。　He　had　only　to　keep　his　nerve。　For　of　course　the　one　thing　more　fatal　than　any　other　was　to　earn　the　Don's　displeasure。
　
　He　heard　tires　on　gravel。　His　practiced　ear　told　him　a　car　was　ing　through　the　narrow　driveway　and　parking　in　the　back　yard。　He　opened　the　rear　door　to　let　them　in。　The　huge　fat　man；　Clemenza；　entered；　followed　by　two　very　rough…looking　young　fellows。　They　searched　the　rooms　without　saying　a　word　to　Bonasera；　then　clemenza　went　out。　The　two　young　men　remained　with　the　undertaker。
　
　A　few　moments　later　Bonasera　recognized　the　sound　of　a　heavy　ambulance　ing　through　the　narrow　driveway。　Then　Clemenza　appeared　in　the　doorway　followed　by　two　men　carrying　a　stretcher。　And　Amerigo　Bonasera's　worst　fears　were　realized。　On　the　stretcher　was　a　corpse　swaddled　in　a　gray　blanket　but　with　bare　yellow　feet　sticking　out　the　end。
　
　Clemenza　motioned　the　stretcher…bearers　into　the　embalming　room。　And　then　from　the　blackness　of　the　yard　another　man　stepped　into　the　lighted　office　room。　It　was　Don　Corleone。
　
　The　Don　had　lost　weight　during　his　illness　and　moved　with　a　curious　stiffness。　He　was　holding　his　hat　in　his　hands　and　his　hair　seemed　thin　over　his　massive　skull。　He　looked　older；　more　shrunken　than　when　Bonasera　had　seen　him　at　the　wedding；　but　he　still　radiated　power。　Holding　his　hat　against　his　chest；　he　said　to　Bonasera；　〃Well；　old　friend；　are　you　ready　to　do　me　this　service？〃
　
　Bonasera