Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

проматывать) the fortune they had both slaved in America to earn. And so after he died

she had become a servant. So Filomena ended her story. She had another glass of

wine and said to Michael, "I bless the name of your father. He always sent me money

when I asked, he saved me from Brasi. Tell him I say a prayer for his soul every night

and that he shouldn't fear dying."

After she had left, Michael asked Don Tommasino, "Is her story true?" The capo-

mafioso nodded. And Michael thought, no wonder nobody wanted to tell him the story.

Some story (ну и история, ничего себе история). Some Luca.

The next morning Michael wanted to discuss the whole thing with Don Tommasino but

learned that the old man had been called to Palermo by an urgent message delivered

by a courier. That evening Don Tommasino returned and took Michael aside. News had

come from America, he said. News that it grieved him to tell. Santino Corleone had

been killed.

Chapter 24

The Sicilian sun, early-morning lemon-colored, filled Michael's bedroom. He awoke

and, feeling Apollonia's satiny body against his own sleep-warm skin, made her come

awake with love. When they were done, even all the months of complete possession

could not stop him from marveling at her heauty and her passion.

She left the bedroom to wash and dress in the bathroom down the hall. Michael, still

naked, the morning sun refreshing his body, lit a cigarette and relaxed on the bed. This

was the last morning they would spend in this house and the villa Don Tommasino had

arranged for him to be transferred to another town on the southern coast of Sicily.

Apollonia, in the first month of pregnancy, wanted to visit with her family for a few weeks

and would join him at the new hiding place after the visit.

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The night before, Don Tommasino had sat with Michael in the garden after Apollonia

had gone to bed. The Don had been worried and tired, and admitted that he was

concerned about Michael's safety. "Your marriage brought you into sight," he told

Michael. "I'm surprised your father hasn't made arrangements for you to go someplace

else. In any case I'm having my own troubles with the young Turks in Palermo. I've

offered some fair arrangements so that they can wet their beaks more than they

deserve, but those scum (пена, накипь; подонки; мерзавец) want everything. I can't

understand their attitude. They've tried a few little tricks but I'm not so easy to kill. They

must know I'm too strong for them to hold me so cheaply. But that's the trouble with

young people, no matter how talented. They don't reason things out and they want all

the water in the well (родник; колодец; водоем)."

And then Don Tommasino had told Michael that the two shepherds, Fabrizzio and

Calo, would go with him as bodyguards in the Alfa Romeo. Don Tommasino would say

his good-byes tonight since he would he off early in the morning, at dawn, to see to his

affairs in Palermo. Also, Michael was not to tell Dr. Taza about the move, since the

doctor planned to spend the evening in Palermo and might blab (проболтаться).

Michael had known Don Tommasino was in trouble. Armed guards patrolled the walls

of the villa at night and a few faithful shepherds with their luparas were always in the

house. Don Tommasino himself went heavily armed and a personal bodyguard

attended him at all times.

The morning sun was now too strong. Michael stubbed out his cigarette and put on

work pants, work shirt and the peaked cap most Sicilian men wore. Still barefooted, he

leaned out his bedroom window and saw Fabrizzio sitting in one of the garden chairs.

Fabrizzio was lazily combing his thick dark hair, his lupara was carelessly thrown across

the garden table. Michael whistled and Fabrizzio looked up to his window.

"Get the car," Michael called down to him. "I'll be leaving in five minutes. Where's

Calo?"

Fabrizzio stood up. His shirt was open, exposing the blue and red lines of the tattoo

on his chest. "Calo is having a cup of coffee in the kitchen," Fabrizzio said. "Is your wife

coming with you?"

Michael squinted (to squint – косить /глазами/; бросить взгляд украдкой) down at

him. It occurred to him that Fabrizzio had been following Apollonia too much with his

eyes the last few weeks. Not that he would dare ever to make an advance toward the

wife of a friend of the Don's. In Sicily there was no surer road to death. Michael said

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coldly, "No, she's going home to her family first, she'll join us in a few days." He

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watched Fabrizzio hurry into the stone hut that served as a garage for the Alfa Romeo.

Michael went down the hall to wash. Apollonia was gone. She was most likely in the

kitchen preparing his breakfast with her own hands to wash out the guilt she felt

because she wanted to see her family one more time before going so far away to the

other end of Sicily. Don Tommasino would arrange transportation for her to where

Michael would be.

Down in the kitchen the old woman Filomena brought him his coffee and shyly bid him

a good-bye. "I'll remember you to my father," Michael said and she nodded.

Calo came into the kitchen and said to Michael, "The car's outside, shall I get your

bag?"

"No, I'll get it," Michael said. "Where's Apolla?"

Calo's face broke into an amused grin. "She's sitting in the driver's seat of the car,

dying to step on the gas. She'll be a real American woman before she gets to America."

It was unheard of for one of the peasant women in Sicily to attempt driving a car. But

Michael sometimes let Apollonia guide the Alfa Romeo around the inside of the villa

walls, always beside her however because she sometimes stepped on the gas when

she meant to step on the brake.

Michael said to Calo, "Get Fabrizzio and wait for me in the car." He went out of the

kitchen and ran up the stairs to the bedroom. His bag was already packed. Before

picking it up he looked out the window and saw the car parked in front of the portico

steps rather than the kitchen entrance. Apollonia was sitting in the car, her hands on the

wheel like a child playing. Calo was just putting the lunch basket in the rear seat. And

then Michael was annoyed to see Fabrizzio disappearing through the gates of the villa

on some errand outside. What the hell was he doing? He saw Fabrizzio take a look over

his shoulder, a look that was somehow furtive. He'd have to straighten that damn

shepherd out. Michael went down the stairs and decided to go through the kitchen to

see Filomena again and give her a final farewell. He asked the old woman, "Is Dr. Taza

still sleeping?"

Filomena's wrinkled face was sly. "Old roosters (петух) can't greet the sun. The doctor

went to Palermo last night."

Michael laughed. He went out the kitchen entrance and the smell of lemon blossoms

penetrated even his sinus-filled nose. He saw Apollonia wave to him from the car just

ten paces up the villa's driveway and then he realized she was motioning him to stay

where he was, that she meant to drive the car to where he stood. Calo stood grinning

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beside the car, his lupara dangling in his hand. But there was still no sign of Fabrizzio.

At that moment, without any conscious reasoning process, everything came together in

his mind, and Michael shouted to the girl, "No! No!" But his shout was drowned in the

roar of the tremendous explosion as Apollonia switched on the ignition (зажигание).

The kitchen door shattered into fragments and Michael was hurled along the wall of the

villa for a good ten feet. Stones tumbling from the villa roof hit him on the shoulders and

one glanced off (to glance off – скользнуть; glance [glα:ns] – быстрый взгляд; to

glance – мельком взглянуть; мелькнуть; отражаться) his skull as he was lying on the

ground. He was conscious just long enough to see that nothing remained of the Alfa

Romeo but its four wheels and the steel shafts which held them together.

He came to consciousness in a room that seemed very dark and heard voices that

were so low that they were pure sound rather than words. Out of animal instinct he tried

to pretend he was still unconscious but the voices stopped and someone was leaning

from a chair close to his bed and the voice was distinct now, saying, "Well, he's with us

finally." A lamp went on, its light like white fire on his eyeballs and Michael turned his

head. It felt very heavy, numb. And then he could see the face over his bed was that of

Dr. Taza.

"Let me look at you a minute and I'll put the light out," Dr. Taza said gently. He was

busy shining a small pencil flashlight (ручной фонарик) into Michael's eyes. "You'll be

all right," Dr. Taza said and turned to someone else in the room. "You can speak to

him."

It was Don Tommasino sitting on a chair near his bed, Michael could see him clearly

now. Don Tommasino was saying, "Michael, Michael, can I talk to you? Do you want to

rest?"

It was easier to raise a hand to make a gesture and Michael did so and Don

Tommasino said, "Did Fabrizzio bring the car from the garage?"

Michael, without knowing he did so, smiled. It was in some strange way, a chilling smile,

of assent (согласие; разрешение [∂'sent]). Don Tommasino said, "Fabrizzio has

vanished. Listen to me, Michael. You've been unconscious for nearly a week. Do you

understand? Everybody thinks you're dead, so you're safe now, they've stopped looking

for you. I've sent messages to your father and he's sent back instructions. It won't be

long now, you'll be back in America. Meanwhile you'll rest here quietly. You're safe up in

the mountains, in a special farmhouse I own. The Palermo people have made their

peace with me now that you're supposed to be dead, so it was you they were after all

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the time. They wanted to kill you while making people think it was me they were after.

That's something you should know. As for everything else, leave it all to me. You

recover your strength and be tranquil (спокойный [‘trжŋkwıl])."

Michael was remembering everything now. He knew his wife was dead, that Calo was

dead. He thought of the old woman in the kitchen. He couldn't remember if she had

come outside with him. He whispered, "Filomena?" Don Tommasino said quietly, "She

wasn't hurt, just a bloody nose from the blast. Don't worry about her."

Michael said, "Fabrizzio. Let your shepherds know that the one who gives me

Fabrizzio will own the finest pastures in Sicily."

Both men seemed to sigh with relief. Don Tommasino lifted a glass from a nearby

table and drank from it an amber fluid (янтарная жидкость ['flu:ıd]) that jolted (to jolt –