“The Godfather” By Mario Puzo 81
“No,” Hagen said. “He never sleeps over with a broad. He always goes home when he’s
through. Mike, keep ringing his number until you get an answer.” Michael dutifully picked
up the phone and dialed. He could hear the phone ringing on the other end but no one
answered. Finally he hung up. “Keep trying every fifteen minutes,” Hagen said.
Sonny said impatiently, “OK, Tom you’re the Consigliere, how about some advice? What
the hell do you think we should do?”
Hagen helped himself to the whiskey bottle on the desk. “We negotiate with Sollozzo
until your father is in shape to take charge. We might even make a deal if we have to.
When your father gets out of bed he can settle the whole business without a fuss and all
the Families will go along with him.”
Sonny said angrily, “You think I can’t handle this guy Sollozzo?”
Tom Hagen looked him directly in the eye. “Sonny, sure you can outfight him. The
Corleone Family has the power. You have Clemenza and Tessio here and they can
muster a thousand men if it comes to an all-out war. But at the end there will be a
shambles over the whole East Coast and all the other Families will blame the
Corleones. We’ll make a lot of enemies. And that’s something your father never believed
in.”
Michael, watching Sonny, thought he took this well. But then Sonny said to Hagen,
“What if the old man dies, what do you advise then, Consigliere?”
Hagen said quietly, “I know you won’t do it, but I would advise you to make a real deal
with Sollozzo on the drugs. Without your father’s political contacts and personal
influence the Corleone Family loses half its strength. Without your father, the other New
York Families might wind up supporting the Tattaglias and Sollozzo just to make sure
there isn’t a long destructive war. If your father dies, make the deal. Then wait and see.”
Sonny was white-faced with anger. “That’s easy for you to say, it’s not your father they
killed.”
Hagen said quickly and proudly, “I was as good a son to him as you or Mike, maybe
better. I’m giving you a professional opinion. Personally I want to kill all those bastards.”
The emotion in his voice shamed Sonny, who said, “Oh, Christ, Tom, I didn’t mean it
that way.” But he had, really. Blood was blood and nothing else was its equal.
Sonny brooded for a moment as the others waited in embarrassed silence. Then he
sighed and spoke quietly. “OK, we’ll sit tight until the old man can give us the lead. But,