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- Марио Пьюзо
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Albert
Neri
sat
in
his
Bronx
apartment
and
carefully
brushed
the
blue
serge
of
his
old
policeman
's
uniform
.
He
unpinned
the
badge
and
set
it
on
the
table
to
be
polished
.
The
regulation
holster
and
gun
were
draped
over
a
chair
.
This
old
routine
of
detail
made
him
happy
in
some
strange
way
,
one
of
the
few
times
he
had
felt
happy
since
his
wife
had
left
him
,
nearly
two
years
ago
.
He
had
married
Rita
when
she
was
a
high
school
kid
and
he
was
a
rookie
policeman
.
She
was
shy
,
dark-haired
,
from
a
straitlaced
Italian
family
who
never
let
her
stay
out
later
than
ten
o'clock
at
night
.
Neri
was
completely
in
love
with
her
,
her
innocence
,
her
virtue
,
as
well
as
her
dark
prettiness
.
At
first
Rita
Neri
was
fascinated
by
her
husband
.
He
was
immensely
strong
and
she
could
see
people
were
afraid
of
him
because
of
that
strength
and
his
unbending
attitude
toward
what
was
right
and
wrong
.
He
was
rarely
tactful
.
If
he
disagreed
with
a
group
's
attitude
or
an
individual
's
opinion
,
he
kept
his
mouth
shut
or
brutally
spoke
his
contradiction
.
He
never
gave
a
polite
agreement
.
He
also
had
a
true
Sicilian
temper
and
his
rages
could
be
awesome
.
But
he
was
never
angry
with
his
wife
.
Neri
in
the
space
of
five
years
became
one
of
the
most
feared
policemen
on
the
New
York
City
force
.
Also
one
of
the
most
honest
.
But
he
had
his
own
ways
of
enforcing
the
law
.
He
hated
punks
and
when
he
saw
a
bunch
of
young
rowdies
making
a
disturbance
on
a
street
corner
at
night
,
disturbing
passersby
,
he
took
quick
and
decisive
action
.
He
employed
a
physical
strength
that
was
truly
extraordinary
,
which
he
himself
did
not
fully
appreciate
.
One
night
in
Central
Park
West
he
jumped
out
of
the
patrol
car
and
lined
up
six
punks
in
black
silk
jackets
.
His
partner
remained
in
the
driver
's
seat
,
not
wanting
to
get
involved
,
knowing
Neri
.
The
six
boys
,
all
in
their
late
teens
,
had
been
stopping
people
and
asking
them
for
cigarettes
in
a
youthfully
menacing
way
but
not
doing
anyone
any
real
physical
harm
.
They
had
also
teased
girls
going
by
with
a
sexual
gesture
more
French
than
American
.
Neri
lined
them
up
against
the
stone
wall
that
closed
off
Central
Park
from
Eighth
Avenue
.
It
was
twilight
,
but
Neri
carried
his
favorite
weapon
,
a
huge
flashlight
.
He
never
bothered
drawing
his
gun
;
it
was
never
necessary
.
His
face
when
he
was
angry
was
so
brutally
menacing
,
combined
with
his
uniform
,
that
the
usual
punks
were
cowed
.
These
were
no
exception
.
Neri
asked
the
first
youth
in
the
black
silk
jacket
,
"
What
's
your
name
?
"
The
kid
answered
with
an
Irish
name
.
Neri
told
him
,
"
Get
off
the
street
.
I
see
you
again
tonight
,
I
'll
crucify
you
.
"
He
motioned
with
his
flashlight
and
the
youth
walked
quickly
away
.
Neri
followed
the
same
procedure
with
the
next
two
boys
.
He
let
them
walk
off
.
But
the
fourth
boy
gave
an
Italian
name
and
smiled
at
Neri
as
if
to
claim
some
sort
of
kinship
.
Neri
was
unmistakably
of
Italian
descent
.
Neri
looked
at
this
youth
for
a
moment
and
asked
superfluously
,
"
You
Italian
?
"
The
boy
grinned
confidently
.
Neri
hit
him
a
stunning
blow
on
the
forehead
with
his
flashlight
.
The
boy
dropped
to
his
knees
.
The
skin
and
flesh
of
his
forehead
had
cracked
open
and
blood
poured
down
his
face
.
But
it
was
strictly
a
flesh
wound
.
Neri
said
to
him
harshly
,
"
You
son
of
a
bitch
,
you
're
a
disgrace
to
the
Italians
.
You
give
us
all
a
bad
name
.
Get
on
your
feet
.
"
He
gave
the
youth
a
kick
in
the
side
,
not
gentle
,
not
too
hard
.
"
Get
home
and
stay
off
the
street
.
Do
n't
ever
let
me
catch
you
wearing
that
jacket
again
either
.
I
'll
send
you
to
the
hospital
.
Now
get
home
.
You
're
lucky
I
'm
not
your
father
.
"
