Mario Puzo - Крестный отец, часть 1. Английский язык с Марио Пьюзо.

The horse inside the stall was, even to Hagen's inexperienced eyes (даже для его неопытных глаз), a beautiful animal. Khartoum's skin was jet black (черная, как смоль; jet – гагат, черный янтарь) except for a diamond-shaped white patch on his huge forehead. The great brown eyes glinted like golden apples, the black skin over the taut body (на туго натянутом, упругом теле) was silk. Woltz said with childish pride (с ребяческой гордостью), "The greatest racehorse in the world (величайшая беговая лошадь в мире). I bought him in England last year for six hundred grand (за шестьсот тысяч; grand – штука /баксов/ – сленг). I bet (готов поспорить, бьюсь об заклад) even the Russian Czars never paid that much for a single horse (такую сумму за одного-единственного коня). But I'm not going to race him, I'm going to put him to stud. I'm going to build the greatest racing stable this country has ever known (когда-либо знала)." He stroked the horse's mane (погладил гриву) and called out softly, "Khartoum, Khartoum." There was real love in his voice and the animal responded. Woltz said to Hagen, "I'm a good horseman (наездник), you know, and the first time I ever rode (когда я сел на лошадь; to ride – ездить верхом) I was fifty years old." He laughed. "Maybe one of my grandmothers in Russia got raped by a Cossack (была изнасилована казаком) and I got his blood." He tickled Khartoum's belly (пощекотал живот, брюхо) and said with sincere admiration (с искренним восхищением; sincere [sın'sı∂]), "Look at that cock on him (какой у него член). I should have such a cock (мне бы такой)."

The home of Jack Woltz looked like an implausible movie set. There was a plantation-type mansion, huge grounds girdled by a rich black-dirt bridle path, stables and pasture for a herd of horses. The hedges, flower beds and grasses were as carefully manicured as a movie star's nails.

Woltz greeted Hagen on a glass-panel air-conditioned porch. The producer was informally dressed in blue silk shirt open at the neck, mustard-colored slacks, soft leather sandals. Framed in all this color and rich fabric his seamed, tough face was startling. He handed Hagen an outsized martini glass and took one for himself from the prepared tray. He seemed more friendly than he had been earlier in the day. He put his arm over Hagen's shoulder and said, "We have a little time before dinner, let's go look at my horses." As they walked toward the stables he said, "I checked you out, Tom; you should have told me your boss is Corleone. I thought you were just some third-rate hustler Johnny was running in to bluff me. And I don't bluff. Not that I want to make enemies, I never believed in that. But let's just enjoy ourselves now. We can talk business after dinner."

Surprisingly Woltz proved to be a truly considerate host. He explained his new methods, innovations that he hoped would make his stable the most successful in America. The stables were all fire-proofed, sanitized to the highest degree, and guarded by a special security detail of private detectives. Finally Woltz led him to a stall which had a huge bronze plaque attached to its outside wall. On the plaque was the name "Khartoum."

The horse inside the stall was, even to Hagen's inexperienced eyes, a beautiful animal. Khartoum's skin was jet black except for a diamond-shaped white patch on his huge forehead. The great brown eyes glinted like golden apples, the black skin over the taut body was silk. Woltz said with childish pride, "The greatest racehorse in the world. I bought him in England last year for six hundred grand. I bet even the Russian Czars never paid that much for a single horse. But I'm not going to race him, I'm going to put him to stud. I'm going to build the greatest racing stable this country has ever known." He stroked the horse's mane and called out softly, "Khartoum, Khartoum." There was real love in his voice and the animal responded. Woltz said to Hagen, "I'm a good horseman, you know, and the first time I ever rode I was fifty years old." He laughed. "Maybe one of my grandmothers in Russia got raped by a Cossack and I got his blood." He tickled Khartoum's belly and said with sincere admiration, "Look at that cock on him. I should have such a cock."

They went back to the mansion to have dinner. It was served by three waiters (официантами) under the command of a butler («под командованием» дворецкого), the table linen (салфетки и скатерти; linen [‘lının] – полотно, холст) and ware (приборы; ware [we∂] – изделия) were all gold thread (золотая нить [θred]) and silver, but Hagen found the food mediocre (нашел посредственной ['mi:dı∂uk∂]). Woltz obviously lived alone, and just as obviously (и точно также очевидно) was not a man who cared about food. Hagen waited until they had both lit up (зажгли; to light up) huge Havana cigars before he asked Woltz, "Does Johnny get it or not?"

"I can't," Woltz said. "I can't put Johnny into that picture even if I wanted to. The contracts are all signed for all the performers (подписаны для всех исполнителей) and the cameras roll (завертятся) next week. There's no way I can swing it («качнуть это» = что-либо в этом изменить)."

Hagen said impatiently, "Mr. Woltz, the big advantage of dealing with a man at the top (большое преимущество того, что имеешь дело с руководителем; advantage [∂d’vα:ntıdG]) is that such an excuse is not valid (как раз то, что такая отговорка недействительна = невозможна; valid ['vælıd] – имеющий силу, правомерный). You can do anything you want to do." He puffed on his cigar (подымил, пустил дым; to puff – дуть порывами /о ветре/; резко выдыхать). "Don't you believe my client can keep his promises?"

Woltz said dryly, "I believe that I'm going to have labor trouble. Goff called me up on that, the son of a bitch, and the way he talked to me you'd never guess (никогда не догадаешься = как будто бы я ему не ...) I pay him a hundred grand a year under the table. And I believe you can get that fag he-man star of mine off heroin (что сможете заставить отказаться от героина эту мою звезду-шестерку, щенка, играющую настоящего мужчину; he-man – настоящий мужчина; fag – младший ученик, оказывающий услуги старшему /в английских школах/; человек, выполняющий тяжелую, нудную работу). But I don't care about that and I can finance my own pictures. Because I hate that bastard Fontane. Tell your boss this is one favor I can't give but that he should try me again on anything else (пусть попробует что-нибудь другое). Anything at all (все что угодно)."

Hagen thought, you sneaky bastard (подлый, хитрый ублюдок; to sneak – подкрадываться; делать что-либо украдкой), then why the hell did you bring me all the way out here (заставил меня тащиться в такую даль)? The producer had something on his mind (что-то на уме). Hagen said coldly, "I don't think you understand the situation. Mr. Corleone is Johnny Fontane's godfather. That is a very close, a very sacred religious relationship (очень тесная = близкая, очень святая связь; sacred [‘seıkrıd] – священный)." Woltz bowed his head in respect at this reference to religion (склонил голову в знак уважения при этом упоминании религии). Hagen went on. "Italians have a little joke, that the world is so hard a man must have two fathers to look after him (чтобы следить, заботиться о нем), and that's why they have godfathers. Since Johnny's father died, Mr. Corleone feels his responsibility even more deeply (чувствет свою ответственность еще более глубоко [rıspons∂’bılıtı]; responsible [rıs’pons∂bl] – ответственный). As for trying you again, Mr. Corleone is much too sensitive (слишком чувствителен = обидчив). He never asks a second favor where he has been refused the first."

Woltz shrugged. "I'm sorry. The answer is still no (все же: «все еще» нет). But since you're here, what will it cost me to have that labor trouble cleared up (сколько мне будет стоить, чтобы уладить: «прояснить» эту профсоюзную проблему; to clear up – прибрать/ся/; прояснить)? In cash (наличными). Right now (прямо сейчас)."

They went back to the mansion to have dinner. It was served by three waiters under the command of a butler, the table linen and ware were all gold thread and silver, but Hagen found the food mediocre. Woltz obviously lived alone, and just as obviously was not a man who cared about food. Hagen waited until they had both lit up huge Havana cigars before he asked Woltz, "Does Johnny get it or not?"

"I can't," Woltz said. "I can't put Johnny into that picture even if I wanted to. The contracts are all signed for all the performers and the cameras roll next week. There's no way I can swing it."

Hagen said impatiently, "Mr. Woltz, the big advantage of dealing with a man at the top is that such an excuse is not valid. You can do anything you want to do." He puffed on his cigar. "Don't you believe my client can keep his promises?"

Woltz said dryly, "I believe that I'm going to have labor trouble. Goff called me up on that, the son of a bitch, and the way he talked to me you'd never guess I pay him a hundred grand a year under the table. And I believe you can get that fag he-man star of mine off heroin. But I don't care about that and I can finance my own pictures. Because I hate that bastard Fontane. Tell your boss this is one favor I can't give but that he should try me again on anything else. Anything at all."

Hagen thought, you sneaky bastard, then why the hell did you bring me all the way out here? The producer had something on his mind. Hagen said coldly, "I don't think you understand the situation. Mr. Corleone is Johnny Fontane's godfather. That is a very close, a very sacred religious relationship." Woltz bowed his head in respect at this reference to religion. Hagen went on. "Italians have a little joke, that the world is so hard a man must have two fathers to look after him, and that's why they have godfathers. Since Johnny's father died, Mr. Corleone feels his responsibility even more deeply. As for trying you again, Mr. Corleone is much too sensitive. He never asks a second favor where he has been refused the first."

Woltz shrugged. "I'm sorry. The answer is still no. But since you're here, what will it cost me to have that labor trouble cleared up? In cash. Right now."

That solved one puzzle for Hagen (это разрешило загадку). Why Woltz was putting in so much time on him when he had already decided (если он уже решил) not to give Johnny the part. And that could not be changed at this meeting. Woltz felt secure (чувствовал себя в безопасности: «уверенно» [si:’kju∂]); he was not afraid of the power of Don Corleone. And certainly Woltz with his national political connections, his acquaintanceship with the FBI chief (знакомство, связи с шефом ФБР; acquaintance [∂'kweınt∂ns] – знакомство), his huge personal fortune and his absolute power in the film industry, could not feel threatened by Don Corleone. To any intelligent man, even to Hagen, it seemed that Woltz had correctly assessed his position (правильно оценил свое положение; to assess [∂‘ses] – определять /сумму налога/; оценивать имущество для обложения налогом). He was impregnable to the Don (неприступен, неуязвим [ım’pregn∂bl]) if he was willing to take the losses (если он был согласен понести убытки) the labor struggle would cost (которые будет стоить профсоюзная борьба). There was only one thing wrong with the whole equation (во всем этом уравнении [ı’kweı∫∂n]). Don Corleone had promised his godson he would get the part and Don Corleone had never, to Hagen's knowledge, broken his word in such matters.