Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

stopped and fined by highway weight inspecton. These trucks helped ruin the highways

and then his road-building firm, with lucrative state contracts, repaired the damage

wrought. It was the kind of operation that would warm any man's heart, business of itself

creating more business. Stracci, too, was old-fashioned and never dealt in prostitution,

but because his business was on the waterfront it was impossible for him not to be

involved in the drug-smuggling traffic. Of the five New York Families opposing the

Corleones his was the least powerful but the most well disposed.

The Family that controlled upper New York State, that arranged smuggling of Italian

immigrants from Canada, all upstate (северная часть штата) gambling and exercised

veto power on state licensing of racing tracks, was headed by Ottilio Cuneo. This was a

completely disarming man with the face of a jolly round peasant baker, whose legitimate

activity was one of the big milk companies. Cuneo was one of those men who loved

children and carried a pocket full of sweets in the hopes of being able to pleasure one of

his many grandchildren or the small offspring (отпрыск) of his associates. He wore a

round fedora with the brim turned down all the way round like a woman's sun hat, which

broadened his already moon-shaped face into the very mask of joviality. He was one of

the few Dons who had never been arrested and whose true activities had never even

been suspected. So much so that he had served on civic committees and had been

voted as "Businessman of the Year for the State of New York" by the Chamber of

Commerce.

The closest ally to the Tattaglia Family was Don Emilio Barzini. He had some of the

gambling in Brooklyn and some in Queens. He had some prostitution. He had strong-

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arm. He completely controlled Staten Island. He had some of the sports betting in the

Bronx and Westchester. He was in narcotics. He had close ties to Cleveland and the

West Coast and he was one of the few men shrewd enough to be interested in Las

Vegas and Reno, the open cities of Nevada. He also had interests in Miami Beach and

Cuba. After the Corleone Family, his was perhaps the strongest in New York and

therefore in the country. His influence reached even to Sicily. His hand was in every

unlawful pie. He was even rumored (о нем даже ходили слухи; rumor [‘ru:m∂] – слух,

молва) to have a toehold (точка опоры /напр. для ноги, когда взбираешься на гору/,

зацепка; toe – палец ноги) in Wall Street. He had supported the Tattaglia Family with

money and influence since the start of the war. It was his ambition to supplant

(вытеснить, занять чье-то место [s∂’plα:nt]) Don Corleone as the most powerful and

respected Mafia leader in the country and to take over part of the Corleone empire. He

was a man much like Don Corleone, but more modern, more sophisticated, more

businesslike. He could never be called an old Moustache Pete and he had the

confidence of the newer, younger, brasher (brashy – щетинистый, шероховатый)

leaders on their way up. He was a man of great personal force in a cold way, with none

of Don Corleone's warmth and he was perhaps at this moment the most "respected"

man in the group.

The last to arrive was Don Phillip Tattaglia, the head of the TattagIia Family that had

directly challenged the Corleone power by supporting Sollozzo, and had so nearly

succeeded. And yet curiously enough he was held in a slight contempt by the others.

For one thing, it was known that he had allowed himself to be dominated by Sollozzo,

had in fact been led by the nose by that fine Turkish hand. He was held responsible for

all this commotion (волнение /моря/; смятение; суматоха, суета), this uproar that had

so affected the conduct of everyday business by the New York Families. Also he was a

sixty-year-old dandy (щеголь, франт) and woman-chaser. And he had ample

(обширный, достаточный) opportunity to indulge his weakness.

For the Tattaglia Family dealt in women. Its main business was prostitution. It also

controlled most of the nightclubs in the United States and could place any talent

anywhere in the country. Phillip Tattaglia was not above using strong-arm to get control

of promising singers and comics and muscling in on record firms. But prostitution was

the main source of the Family income.

His personality was unpleasant to these men. He was a whiner (to whine – скулить,

хныкать, плакаться), always complaining of the costs in his Family business. Laundry

bills, all those towels, ate up the profits (but he owned the laundry firm that did the work).

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The girls were lazy and unstable, running off, committing suicide. The pimps were

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treacherous and dishonest and without a shred (лоскуток, клочок) of loyalty. Good help

was hard to find. Young lads of Sicilian blood turned up their noses at such work,

considered it beneath their honor to traffic and abuse women; those rascals who would

slit a throat with a song on their lips and the cross of an Easter palm in the lapel of their

jackets. So Phillip Tattaglia would rant (говорить напыщенно, декламировать,

проповедовать) on to audiences unsympathetic and contemptuous. His biggest howl

(вой, завывание) was reserved for authorities who had it in their power to issue and

cancel liquor licenses for his nightclubs and cabarets. He swore he had made more

millionaires than Wall Street with the money he had paid those thieving guardians of

official seals.

In a curious way his almost victorious war against the Corleone Family had not won

him the respect it deserved. They knew his strength had come first from Sollozzo and

then from the Barzini Family. Also the fact that with the advantage of surprise he had

not won complete victory was evidence against him. If he had been more efficient, all

this trouble could have been avoided. The death of Don Corleone would have meant the

end of the war. It was proper, since they had both lost sons in their war against each

other, that Don Corleone and Phillip Tattaglia should acknowledge each other's

presence only with a formal nod. Don Corleone was the object of attention, the other

men studying him to see what mark of weakness had been left on him by his wounds

and defeats. The puzzling factor was why Don Corleone had sued for peace after the

death of his favorite son. It was an acknowledgment of defeat and would almost surely

lead to a lessening of his power. But they would soon know.

There were greetings, there were drinks to be served and almost another half hour

went by before Don Corleone took his seat at the polished walnut table. Unobtrusively

(unobtrusive [Λn∂b’tru:sıv] – ненавязчивый, скромный), Hagen sat in the chair slightly

to the Don's left and behind him. This was the signal for the other Dons to make their

way to the table. Their aides sat behind them, the Consiglioris up close so that they

could offer any advice when needed.

Don Corleone was the first to speak and he spoke as if nothing had happened. As if

he had not been grievously wounded and his eldest son slain (to slay-slew-slain –

убивать /книжн./), his empire in a shambles (в развалинах, руинах), his personal

family scattered, Freddie in the West and under the protection of the Molinari Family

and Michael secreted in the wastelands (пустынные, невозделанные земли) of Sicily.

He spoke naturally, in Sicilian dialect.

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"I want to thank you all for coming," he said. "I consider it a service done to me

personally and I am in the debt of each and every one of you. And so I will say at the

beginning that. I am here not to quarrel or convince, but only to reason and as a

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reasonable man do everything possible for us all to part friends here too. I give my word

on that, and some of you who know me well know I do not give my word lightly. Ah, well,

let's get down to business. We are all honorable men here, we don't have to give each

other assurances as if we were lawyers."

He paused. None of the others spoke. Some were smoking cigars, others sipping their

drinks. All of these men were good listeners, patient men. They had one other thing in

common. They were those rarities, men who had refused to accept the rule of organized

society, men who refused the dominion of other men. There was no force, no mortal

man who could bend them to their will unless they wished it. They were men who

guarded their free will with wiles (wile – хитрость, уловка, обман) and murder. Their

wills could be subverted (to suvert [sΛb’v∂:t] – ниспровергнуть; разрушить) only by

death. Or the utmost reasonableness.

Don Corleone sighed. "How did things ever go so far?" he asked rhetorically. "Well, no

matter. A lot of foolishness has come to pass. It was so unfortunate, so unnecessary.

But let me tell what happened, as I see it."

He paused to see if someone would object to his telling his side of the story.

"Thank God my health has been restored and maybe I can help set this affair aright.

Perhaps my son was too rash, too headstrong, I don't say no to that. Anyway let me just

say that Sollozzo came to me with a business affair in which he asked me for my money

and my influence. He said he had the interest of the Tattaglia Family. The affair involved

drugs, in which I have no interest. I'm a quiet man and such endeavors (endeavor

[ın'dev∂] – попытка, старание, стремление) are too lively for my taste. I explained this

to Sollozzo, with all respect for him and the Tattaglia Family. I gave him my 'no' with all

courtesy. I told him his business would not interfere with mine, that I had no objection to

his earning his living in this fashion. He took it ill and brought misfortune down on all our

heads. Well, that's life. Everyone here could tell his own tale of sorrow. That's not to my

purpose."

Don Corleone paused and motioned to Hagen for a cold drink, which Hagen swiftly

furnished him. Don Corleone wet his mouth. "I'm willing to make the peace," he said.

"Tattaglia has lost a son, I have lost a son. We are quits. What would the world come to

if people kept carrying grudges against all reason? That has been the cross of Sicily,

where men are so busy with vendettas they have no time to earn bread for their families.

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It's foolishness. So I say now, let things be as they were before. I have not taken any

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steps to learn who betrayed and killed my son. Given peace, I will not do so. I have a