The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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by now.” 
Hagen nodded. “It wasn’t hard. Except why you wanted me out of the action. But I put 
on my Sicilian hat and I finally figured that too.” 
Michael laughed. “The old man said you would. But that’s a luxury I can’t afford 
anymore. I need you here. At least for the next few weeks. You better phone Vegas and 
talk to your wife. Just tell her a few weeks.” 
Hagen said musingly, “How do you think they’ll come at you?” 
Michael sighed. “The Don instructed me. Through somebody close. Brazini will set me 
up through somebody close that, supposedly, I won’t suspect.” 
Hagen smiled at him. “Somebody like me.” 
Michael smiled back. “You’re Irish, they won’t trust you.” 
“I’m German-American,” Hagen said. 
“To them that’s Irish,” Michael said. “They won’t go to you and they won’t go to Neri 
because Neri was a cop. Plus both of you are too close to me. They can’t take that 
gamble. Rocco Lampone isn’t close enough. No, it will be Clemenza, Tessio or Carlo 
Rizzi.” 
Hagen said softly, “I’m betting it’s Carlo.” 
“We’ll see,” Michael said. “It won’t be long.” 
* * *
It was the next morning, while Hagen and Michael were having breakfast together. 
Michael took a phone call in the library, and when he came back to the kitchen, he said 
to Hagen, “It’s all set up. I’m going to meet Barzini a week from now. To make new 
peace now that the Don is dead.” Michael laughed. 
Hagen asked, “Who phoned you, who made the contact?” They both knew that whoever 
in the Corleone Family had made the contact had turned traitor. 
Michael gave Hagen a sad regretful smile. “Tessio,” he said. 
They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. Over coffee Hagen shook his head. “I 
could have sworn it would have been Carlo or maybe Clemenza. I never figured Tessio. 
He’s the best of the lot.” 
“He’s the most intelligent,” Michael said. “And he did what seems to him to be the smart 

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