The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
105
long low black car turned into 30th Street from Ninth Avenue and cruised toward them, 
very close to the curb. It almost stopped. Michael peered to see their faces inside, his 
body flinching involuntarily. The car seemed about to stop, then speeded forward. 
Somebody had recognized him. Michael gave Enzo another cigarette and noticed that 
the baker’s hands were shaking. To his surprise his own hands were steady. 
They stayed in the street smoking for what was no more than ten minutes when 
suddenly the night air was split by a police siren. A patrol car made a screaming turn 
from Ninth Avenue and pulled up in front of the hospital. Two more squad cars followed 
right behind it. Suddenly the hospital entranceway was flooded with uniformed police 
and detectives. Michael heaved a sigh of relief. Good old Sonny must have gotten 
through right away. He moved forward to meet them. 
Two huge, burly policemen grabbed his arms. Another frisked him. A massive police 
captain, gold braid on his cap, came up the steps, his men parting respectfully to leave a 
path. He was a vigorous man for his girth and despite the white hair that peeked out of 
his cap. His face was beefy red. He came up to Michael and said harshly, “I thought I 
got all you guinea hoods locked up. Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” 
One of the cops standing beside Michael said, “He’s clean, Captain.” 
Michael didn’t answer. He was studying this police captain, coldly searching his face, 
the metallic blue eyes. A detective in plain clothes said, “That’s Michael Corleone, the 
Don’s son.” 
Michael said quietly, “What happened to the detectives who were supposed to be 
guarding my father? Who pulled them off that detail?” 
The police captain was choleric with rage. “You fucking hood, who the hell are you to tell 
me my business? I pulled them off. I don’t give a shit how many dago gangsters kill 
each other. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t lift a finger to keep your old man from getting 
knocked off. Now get the hell out of here. Get out of this street, you punk, and stay out 
of this hospital when it’s not visiting hours.” 
Michael was still studying him intently. He was not angry at what this police captain was 
saying. His mind was racing furiously. Was it possible that Sollozzo had been in that first 
car and had seen him standing in front of the hospital? Was it possible that Sollozzo had 
then called this captain and said, “How come the Corleones’ men are still around the 
hospital when I paid you to lock them up?” Was it possible that all had been carefully 
planned as Sonny had said? Everything fitted in. Still cool, he said to the captain, “I’m 

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