Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
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hands of men whose only qualification is that they managed to con a block of people to
vote for them. But that's for now. My father's time is done. The things he did can no
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longer be done except with a great deal of risk. Whether we like it or not the Corleone
Family has to join that society. But when they do I'd like us to join it with plenty of our
own power; that is, money and ownership of other valuables. I'd like to make my
children as secure as possible before they join that general destiny."
"But you volunteered to fight for your country, you were a war hero," Kay said. "What
happened to make you change?"
Michael said, "This is really getting us no place. But maybe I'm just one of those real
old-fashioned conservatives they grow up in your hometown. I take care of myself,
individual. Governments really don't do much for their people, that's what it comes down
to, but that's not it really. All I can say, I have to help my father, I have to be on his side.
And you have to make your decision about being on my side," He smiled at her. "I
guess getting married was a bad idea."
Kay patted the bed. "I don't know about marrying, but I've gone without a man for two
years and I'm not letting you off so easy now. Come on in here."
When they were in bed together, the light out, she whispered to him, "Do you believe
me about not having a man since you left?"
"I believe you," Michael said.
"Did you?" she whispered in a softer voice.
"Yes," Michael said. He felt her stiffen a little. "But not in the last six months." It was
true. Kay was the first woman he had made love to since the death of Apollonia.
Chapter 26
The garish suite overlooked the fake fairyland grounds in the rear of the hotel;
transplanted palm trees lit up by climbers of orange lights, two huge swimming pools
shimmering dark blue by the light of the desert stars. On the horizon were the sand and
stone mountains that ringed Las Vegas nestling in its neon valley. Johnny Fontane let
the heavy, richly embroidered gray drape fall and turned back to the room.
A special detail of four men, a pit boss, a dealer, extra relief man, and a cocktail
waitress in her scanty nightclub costume were getting things ready for private action.
Nino Valenti was lying on the sofa in the living room part of the suite, a water glass of
whiskey in his hand. He watched the people from the casino setting up the blackjack
table with the proper six padded chairs around its horseshoe outer rim. "That's great,
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that's great," he said in a slurred voice that was not quite drunken. "Johnny, come on
and gamble with me against these bastards. I got the luck. We'll beat their crullers in."
Johnny sat on a footstool opposite the couch: "You know I don't gamble," he said.
"How you feeling, Nino?"
Nino Valenti grinned at him. "Great. I got broads coming up at midnight, then some
supper, then back to the blackjack table. You know I got the house beat for almost fifty
grand and they've been grinding me for a week?"
"Yeah," Johnny Fontane said. "Who do you want to leave it to when you croak?"
Nino drained his glass empty. "Johnny, where the hell did you get your rep as a
swinger? You're a deadhead, Johnny. Christ, the tourists in this town have more fun
than you do."
Johnny said, "Yeah. You want a lift to that blackjack table?"
Nino struggled erect on the sofa and planted his feet firmly on the rug. "I can make it,"
he said. He let the glass slip to the floor and got up and walked quite steadily to where
the blackjack table had been set up. The dealer was ready. The pit boss stood behind
the dealer watching. The relief dealer sat on a chair away from the table. The cocktail
waitress sat on another chair in a line of vision so that she could see any of Nino
Valenti's gestures.
Nino rapped on the green baize with his knuckles. "Chips," he said.
The pit boss took a pad from his pocket and filled out a slip and put it in front of Nino
with a small fountain pen. "Here you are, Mr. Valenti," he said. "The usual five thousand
to start." Nino scrawled his signature on the bottom of the slip and the pit boss put it in
his pocket. He nodded to the dealer.
The dealer with incredibly deft fingers took stacks of black and gold one-hundred-
dollar chips from the built-in racks before him. In not more than five seconds Nino had
five even stacks of one-hundred-dollar chips before him, each stack had ten chips.
There were six squares a little larger than playing card, shapes etched in white on the
green baize, each square placed to correspond to where a player would sit. Now Nino
was placing bets on three of these squares, single chips, and so playing three hands
each for a hundred dollars. He refused to take a hit on all three hands because the