The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
50
helping her into the car, hissing commands into her ear. The mother’s head turned for a 
quick furtive look at Hagen and he saw in her eyes a burning, hawklike triumph. Then 
she too disappeared into the limousine. 
So that was why he hadn’t got the plane ride from Los Angeles, Hagen thought. The girl 
and her mother had made the trip with the movie producer. That had given Woltz 
enough time to relax before dinner and do the job on the little kid. And Johnny wanted to 
live in this world? Good luck to him, and good luck to Woltz. 
* * *
Paulie Gatto hated quickie jobs, especially when they involved violence. He liked to plan 
things ahead. And something like tonight, even though it was punk stuff, could turn into 
serious business if somebody made a mistake. Now, sipping his beer, he glanced 
around, checking how the two young punks were making out with the two little tramps at 
the bar. 
Paulie Gatto knew everything there was to know about those two punks. Their names 
were Jerry Wagner and Kevin Moonan. They were both about twenty years old, 
goodlooking, brown-haired, tall, well-built. Both were due to go back to college out of 
town in two weeks, both had fathers with political influence and this, with their college 
student classification, had so far kept them out of the draft. They were both also under 
suspended sentences for assaulting the daughter of Amerigo Bonasera. The lousy 
bastards, Paulie Gatto thought. Draft dodging, violating their probation by drinking in a 
bar after midnight, chasing floozies. Young punks. Paulie Gatto had been deferred from 
the draft himself because his doctor had furnished the draft board with documents 
showing that this patient, male, white, aged twenty-six, unmarried, had received 
electrical shock treatments for a mental condition. All false, of course, but Paulie Gatto 
felt that he had earned his draft exemption. It had been arranged by Clemenza after 
Gatto had “made his bones” in the family business. 
It was Clemenza who had told him that this job must be rushed through, before the boys 
went to college. Why the hell did it have to be done in New York, Gatto wondered. 
Clemenza was always giving extra orders instead of just giving out the job. Now if those 
two little tramps walked out with the punks it would be another night wasted. 
He could hear one of the girls laughing and saying, “Are you crazy, Jerry? I’m not going 
in any car with you. I don’t want to wind up in the hospital like that other poor girl.” Her 
voice was spitefully rich with satisfaction. That was enough for Gatto. He finished up his 

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