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- Марио Пьюзо
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Vito
let
Fanucci
go
down
the
stairs
and
out
the
building
.
The
street
was
thronged
with
witnesses
to
show
that
he
had
left
the
Corleone
home
safely
.
Vito
watched
from
the
window
.
He
saw
Fanucci
turn
the
corner
toward
11th
Avenue
and
knew
he
was
headed
toward
his
apartment
,
probably
to
put
away
his
loot
before
coming
out
on
the
streets
again
.
Perhaps
to
put
away
his
gun
.
Vito
Corleone
left
his
apartment
and
ran
up
the
stairs
to
the
roof
.
He
traveled
over
the
square
block
of
roofs
and
descended
down
the
steps
of
an
empty
loft
building
fire
escape
that
left
him
in
the
back
yard
.
He
kicked
the
back
door
open
and
went
through
the
front
door
.
Across
the
street
was
Fanucci
's
tenement
apartment
house
.
The
village
of
tenements
extended
only
as
far
west
as
Tenth
Avenue
.
Eleventh
Avenue
was
mostly
warehouses
and
lofts
rented
by
firms
who
shipped
by
New
York
Central
Railroad
and
wanted
access
to
the
freight
yards
that
honeycombed
the
area
from
Eleventh
Avenue
to
the
Hudson
River
.
Fanucci
's
apartment
house
was
one
of
the
few
left
standing
in
this
wilderness
and
was
occupied
mostly
by
bachelor
trainmen
,
yard
workers
,
and
the
cheapest
prostitutes
.
These
people
did
not
sit
in
the
street
and
gossip
like
honest
Italians
,
they
sat
in
beer
taverns
guzzling
their
pay
.
So
Vito
Corleone
found
it
an
easy
matter
to
slip
across
the
deserted
Eleventh
Avenue
and
into
the
vestibule
of
Fanucci
's
apartment
house
.
There
he
drew
the
gun
he
had
never
fired
and
waited
for
Fanucci
.
He
watched
through
the
glass
door
of
the
vestibule
,
knowing
Fanucci
would
come
down
from
Tenth
Avenue
.
Clemenza
had
showed
him
the
safety
on
the
gun
and
he
had
triggered
it
empty
.
But
as
a
young
boy
in
Sicily
at
the
early
age
of
nine
,
he
had
often
gone
hunting
with
'
his
father
,
had
often
fired
the
heavy
shotgun
called
the
lupara
.
It
was
his
skill
with
the
lupara
even
as
a
small
boy
that
had
brought
the
sentence
of
death
upon
him
by
his
father
's
murderers
.
Now
waiting
in
the
darkened
hallway
,
he
saw
the
white
blob
of
Fanucci
crossing
the
street
toward
the
doorway
.
Vito
stepped
back
,
shoulders
pressed
against
the
inner
door
that
led
to
the
stairs
.
He
held
his
gun
out
to
fire
.
His
extended
hand
was
only
two
paces
from
the
outside
door
.
The
door
swung
in
.
Fanucci
,
white
,
broad
,
smelly
,
filled
the
square
of
light
.
Vito
Corleone
fired
.
The
opened
door
let
some
of
the
sound
escape
into
the
street
,
the
rest
of
the
gun
's
explosion
shook
the
building
.
Fanucci
was
holding
on
to
the
sides
of
the
door
,
trying
to
stand
erect
,
trying
to
reach
for
his
gun
.
The
force
of
his
struggle
had
torn
the
buttons
off
his
jacket
and
made
it
swing
loose
.
His
gun
was
exposed
but
so
was
a
spidery
vein
of
red
on
the
white
shirtfront
of
his
stomach
.
Very
carefully
,
as
if
he
were
plunging
a
needle
into
a
vein
,
Vito
Corleone
fired
his
second
bullet
into
that
red
web
.
Fanucci
fell
to
his
knees
,
propping
the
door
open
.
He
let
out
a
terrible
groan
,
the
groan
of
a
man
in
great
physical
distress
that
was
almost
comical
.
He
kept
giving
these
groans
;
Vito
remembered
hearing
at
least
three
of
them
before
he
put
the
gun
against
Fanucci
's
sweaty
,
suety
cheek
and
fired
into
his
brain
.
No
more
than
five
seconds
had
passed
when
Fanucci
slumped
into
death
,
jamming
the
door
open
with
his
body
.
Very
carefully
Vito
took
the
wide
wallet
out
of
the
dead
man
's
jacket
pocket
and
put
it
inside
his
shirt
.
Then
he
walked
across
the
street
into
the
loft
building
,
through
that
into
the
yard
and
climbed
the
fire
escape
to
the
roof
.
From
there
he
surveyed
the
street
.
Fanucci
's
body
was
still
lying
in
the
doorway
but
there
was
no
sign
of
any
other
person
.
Two
windows
had
gone
up
in
the
tenement
and
he
could
see
dark
heads
poked
out
but
since
he
could
not
see
their
features
they
had
certainly
not
seen
his
.
And
such
men
would
not
give
information
to
the
police
.
Fanucci
might
lie
there
until
dawn
or
until
a
patrolman
making
the
rounds
stumbled
on
his
body
.
No
person
in
that
house
would
deliberately
expose
himself
to
police
suspicion
or
questioning
.
They
would
lock
their
doors
and
pretend
they
had
heard
nothing
.
He
could
take
his
time
.
He
traveled
over
the
rooftops
to
his
own
roof
door
and
down
to
his
own
flat
.
He
unlocked
the
door
,
went
inside
and
then
locked
the
door
behind
him
.
He
rifled
the
dead
man
's
wallet
.
Besides
the
seven
hundred
dollars
he
had
given
Fanucci
there
were
only
some
singles
and
a
five-dollar
note
.
