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- Стр. 149/319
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Vito
Corleone
had
decided
to
murder
Fanucci
.
By
doing
so
he
would
have
an
extra
seven
hundred
dollars
in
his
bankroll
.
The
three
hundred
dollars
he
himself
would
have
to
pay
the
Black
Hand
terrorist
and
the
two
hundred
dollars
from
Tessio
and
the
two
hundred
dollars
from
Clemenza
.
If
he
did
not
kill
Fanucci
,
he
would
have
to
pay
the
man
seven
hundred
dollars
cold
cash
.
Fanucci
alive
was
not
worth
seven
hundred
dollars
to
him
.
He
would
not
pay
seven
hundred
dollars
to
keep
Fanucci
alive
.
If
Fanucci
needed
seven
hundred
dollars
for
an
operation
to
save
his
life
,
he
would
not
give
Fanucci
seven
hundred
dollars
for
the
surgeon
.
He
owed
Fanucci
no
personal
debt
of
gratitude
,
they
were
not
blood
relatives
,
he
did
not
love
Fanucci
.
Why
,
then
,
should
he
give
Fanucci
seven
hundred
dollars
?
And
it
followed
inevitably
,
that
since
Fanucci
wished
to
take
seven
hundred
dollars
from
him
by
force
,
why
should
he
not
kill
Fanucci
?
Surely
the
world
could
do
without
such
a
person
.
There
were
of
course
some
practical
reasons
.
Fanucci
might
indeed
have
powerful
friends
who
would
seek
vengeance
.
Fanucci
himself
was
a
dangerous
man
,
not
so
easily
killed
.
There
were
the
police
and
the
electric
chair
.
But
Vito
Corleone
had
lived
under
a
sentence
of
death
since
the
murder
of
his
father
.
As
a
boy
of
twelve
he
had
fled
his
executioners
and
crossed
the
ocean
into
a
strange
land
,
taking
a
strange
name
.
And
years
of
quiet
observation
had
convinced
him
that
he
had
more
intelligence
and
more
courage
than
other
men
,
though
he
had
never
had
the
opportunity
to
use
that
intelligence
and
courage
.
And
yet
he
hesitated
before
taking
the
first
step
toward
his
destiny
.
He
even
packed
the
seven
hundred
dollars
in
a
single
fold
of
bills
and
put
the
money
in
a
convenient
sick
pocket
of
his
trousers
.
But
he
put
the
money
in
the
left
side
of
his
trousers
.
In
the
right-hand
pocket
he
put
the
gun
Clemenza
had
given
him
to
use
in
the
hijacking
of
the
silk
truck
.
Fanucci
came
promptly
at
nine
in
the
evening
.
Vito
Corleone
set
out
a
jug
of
homemade
wine
that
Clemenza
had
given
him
.
Fanucci
put
his
white
fedora
on
the
table
beside
the
jug
of
wine
.
He
loosened
his
broad
multiflowered
tie
,
its
tomato
stains
camouflaged
by
the
bright
patterns
.
The
summer
night
was
hot
,
the
gaslight
feeble
.
It
was
very
quiet
in
the
apartment
.
But
Vito
Corleone
was
icy
.
To
show
his
good
faith
he
handed
over
the
roll
of
bills
and
watched
carefully
as
Fanucci
,
after
counting
it
,
took
out
a
wide
leather
wallet
and
stuffed
the
money
inside
.
Fanucci
sipped
his
glass
of
wine
and
said
,
"
You
still
owe
me
two
hundred
dollars
.
"
His
heavy-browed
face
was
expressionless
.
Vito
Corleone
said
in
his
cool
reasonable
voice
,
"
I
'm
a
little
short
,
I
've
been
out
of
work
.
Let
me
owe
you
the
money
for
a
few
weeks
.
"
This
was
a
permissible
gambit
.
Fanucci
had
the
bulk
of
the
money
and
would
wait
.
He
might
even
be
persuaded
to
take
nothing
more
or
to
wait
a
little
longer
.
He
chuckled
over
his
wine
and
said
,
"
Ah
,
you
're
a
sharp
young
fellow
.
How
is
it
I
've
never
noticed
you
before
?
You
're
too
quiet
a
chap
for
your
own
interest
.
I
could
find
some
work
for
you
to
do
that
would
be
very
profitable
.
"
Vito
Corleone
showed
his
interest
with
a
polite
nod
and
filled
up
the
man
's
glass
from
the
purple
jug
.
But
Fanucci
thought
better
of
what
he
was
going
to
say
and
rose
from
his
chair
and
shook
Vito
's
hand
.
"
Good
night
,
young
fellow
,
"
he
said
.
"
No
hard
feelings
,
eh
?
If
I
can
ever
do
you
a
service
let
me
know
.
You
've
done
a
good
job
for
yourself
tonight
.
"
