The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
122
Sonny picked up the phone and dialed a number. He spoke softly into the phone, then 
hung up. “He’ll call us back,” Sonny said. 
They waited for nearly another thirty minutes and then the phone rang. It was Phillips. 
Sonny jotted something down on his pad and then hung up. His face was taut. “I think 
we’ve got it,” he said. “Captain McCluskey always has to leave word on where he can 
be reached. From eight to ten tonight he’ll be at the Luna Azure up in the Bronx. 
Anybody know it?” 
Tessio spoke confidently. “I do. It’s perfect for us. A small family place with big booths 
where people can talk in private. Good food. Everybody minds their own business. 
Perfect.” He leaned over Sonny’s desk and arranged stubbed-out cigarettes into map 
figures. “This is the entrance. Mike, when you finish just walk out and turn left, then turn 
the corner. I’ll spot you and put on my headlights and catch you on the fly. If you have 
any trouble, yell and I’ll try to come in and get you out. Clemenza, you gotta work fast. 
Send somebody up there to plant the gun. They got an old-fashioned toilet with a space 
between the water container and the wall. Have your man tape the gun behind there. 
Mike, after they frisk you in the car and find you’re clean, they won’t be too worried 
about you. In the restaurant, wait a bit before you excuse yourself. No, better still, ask 
permission to go. Act a little in trouble first, very natural. They can’t figure anything. But 
when you come out again, don’t waste any time. Don’t sit down again at the table, start 
blasting. And don’t take chances. In the head, two shots apiece, and out as fast as your 
legs can travel.” 
Sonny had been listening judiciously. “I want somebody very good, very safe, to plant 
that gun,” he told Clemenza. “I don’t want my brother coming out of that toilet with just 
his dick in his hand.” 
Clemenza said emphatically, “The gun will be there.” 
“OK,” Sonny said. “Everybody get rolling.” 
Tessio and Clemenza left. Tom Hagen said, “Sonny, should I drive Mike down to New 
York?” 
“No,” Sonny said. “I want you here. When Mike finishes, then our work begins and I’ll 
need you. Have you got those newspaper guys lined up?” 
Hagen nodded. “I’ll be feeding them info as soon as things break.” 
Sonny got up and came to stand in front of Michael. He shook his hand. “OK, kid,” he 

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