The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
110
Sonny shook his head from side to side. “No, no, Consigliere, not this time.” His voice 
held a faint trace of Italian accent. He was consciously mocking his father just to kid 
around. “No more meetings. No more discussions. No more Sollozzo tricks. When the 
negotiator gets in touch with us again for our answer I want you to give him one 
message. I want Sollozzo. If not, it’s all-out war. We’ll go to the mattresses and we’ll put 
all the button men out on the street. Business will just have to suffer.” 
“The other Families won’t stand for an all-out war,” Hagen said. “It puts too much heat 
on everybody.” 
Sonny shrugged. “They have a simple solution. Give me Sollozzo. Or fight the Corleone 
Family.” Sonny paused, then said roughly, “No more advice on how to patch it up, Tom. 
The decision is made. Your job is to help me win. Understand?” 
Hagen bowed his head. He was deep in thought for a moment. Then he said, “I spoke to 
your contact in the police station. He says that Captain McCluskey is definitely on 
Sollozzo’s payroll and for big money. Not only that, but McCluskey is going to get a 
piece of the drug operation. McCluskey has agreed to be Sollozzo’s bodyguard. The 
Turk doesn’t poke his nose out of his hole without McCluskey. When he meets Mike for 
the conference, McCluskey will be sitting beside him. In civilian clothes but carrying his 
gun. Now what you have to understand, Sonny, is that while Sollozzo is guarded like 
this, he’s invulnerable. Nobody has ever gunned down a New York police captain and 
gotten away with it. The heat in this town would be unbearable what with the 
newspapers, the whole police department, the churches, everything. That would be 
disastrous. The Families would be after you. The Corleone Family would become 
outcasts. Even the old man’s political protection would run for cover. So take that into 
consideration.” 
Sonny shrugged. “McCluskey can’t stay with the Turk forever. We’ll wait.” 
Tessio and Clemenza were puffing on their cigars uneasily, not daring to speak, but 
sweating. It would be their skins that would go on the line if the wrong decision was 
made. 
Michael spoke for the first time. He asked Hagen, “Can the old man be moved out of the 
hospital onto the mall here?” 
Hagen shook his head. “That’s the first thing I asked. Impossible. He’s in very bad 
shape. He’ll pull through but he needs all kinds of attention, maybe some more surgery. 
Impossible.” 

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