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planned to rob him of the money he had risked his life and freedom to earn. He had not
been afraid. Indeed he thought, at that moment, that Fanucci was a crazy fool. From
what he had seen of Clemenza, that burly Sicilian would sooner give up his life than a
penny of his loot. After all, Clemenza had been ready to kill a policeman merely to steal
a rug. And the slender Tessio had the deadly air of a viper (гадюка ['vaip]).
But later that night, in Clemenza's tenement apartment across the air shaft, Vito
Corleone received another lesson in the education he had just begun. Clemenza cursed,
Tessio scowled (to scowl [skaul] –
started talking about whether Fanucci would be satisfied with two hundred dollars.
Tessio thought he might.
Clemenza was positive. "No, that scarface bastard must have found out what we
made from the wholesaler who bought the dresses. Fanucci won't take a dime less than
three hundred dollars. We'll have to pay."
Vito was astonished but was careful not to show his astonishment. "Why do we have
to pay him? What can he do to the three of us? We're stronger than him. We have guns.
Why do we have to hand over the money we earned?"
Clemenza explained patiently. "Fanucci has friends, real brutes. He has connections
with the police. He'd like us to tell him our plans because he could set us up for the cops
and earn their gratitude. Then they would owe him a favor. That’s how he operates. And
he has a license from Maranzalla himself to work this neighborhood." Maranzalla was a
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gangster often in the newspapers, reputed to be the leader of a criminal ring
specializing in extortion, gambling and armed robbery.
Clemenza served wine that he had made himself. His wife, after putting a plate of
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salami, olives and a loaf of Italian bread on the table, went down to sit with her women
cronies in front of the building, carrying her chair with her. She was a young Italian girl
only a few years in the country and did not yet understand English.
Vito Corleone sat with his two friends and drank wine. He had never used his
intelligence before as he was using it now. He was surprised at how clearly he could
think. He recalled everything he knew about Fanucci. He remembered the day the man
had had his throat cut and had run down the street holding his fedora under his chin to
catch the dripping blood. He remembered the murder of the man who had wielded the
knife and the other two having their sentences removed by paying an indemnity. And
suddenly he was sure that Fanucci had no great connections, could not possibly have.
Not a man who informed to the police. Not a man who allowed his vengeance to be
bought off. A real Mafioso chief would have had the other two men killed also. No.
Fanucci had got lucky and killed one man but had known he could not kill the other two
after they were alerted. And so he had allowed himself to be paid. It was the personal
brutal force of the man that allowed him to levy tribute (взимать
the shopkeepers, the gambling games that ran in the tenement apartments. But Vito
Corleone knew of at least one gambling game that had never paid Fanucci tributes and
nothing had ever happened to the man running it.
And so it was Fanucci alone. Or Fanucci with some gunmen hired for special jobs on
a strictly cash basis. Which left Vito Corleone with another decision. The course his own
life must take.
It was from this experience came his oft-repeated belief that every man has but one
destiny. On that night he could have paid Fanucci the tribute and have become again a
grocery clerk with perhaps his own grocery store in the years to come. But destiny had
decided that he was to become a Don and had brought Fanucci to him to set him on his
destined path.
When they finished the bottle of wine, Vito said cautiously to Clemenza and Tessio, "If
you like, why not give me two hundred dollars each to pay to Fanucci? I guarantee he
will accept that amount from me. Then leave everything in my hands. I'll settle this
problem to your satisfaction."
At once Clemenza's eyes gleamed with suspicion. Vito said to him coldly, "I never lie
to people I have accepted as my friends. Speak to Fanucci yourself tomorrow. Let him
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ask you for the money. But don't pay him. And don't in any way quarrel with him. Tell
him you have to get the money and will give it to me to give him. Let him understand
that you are willing to pay what he asks. Don't bargain. I'll quarrel over the price with
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him. There's no point making him angry with us if he's as dangerous a man as you say