The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
168
“Otherwise the police will come to see you, your wife and children will be shamed and 
destitute. Of course if my information as to your gains is incorrect I’ll dip my beak just a 
little. But no less than three hundred dollars. And don’t try to deceive me.” 
For the first time Vito Corleone spoke. His voice was reasonable, showed no anger. It 
was courteous, as befitted a young man speaking to an older man of Fanucci’s 
eminence. He said softly, “My two friend have my share of the money, rll have to speak 
to them.” 
Fanucci was reassured. “You can tell your two friends that I expect them to let me wet 
my beak in the same manner. Don’t be afraid to tell them,” he added reassuringly. 
“Clemenza and I know each other well, he understands these things. Let yourself be 
guided by him. He has more experience in these matters.” 
Vito Corleone shrugged. He tried to look a little embarrassed. “Of course,” he said. “You 
understand this is all new to me. Thank you for speaking to me as a godfather.” 
Fanucci was impressed. “You’re a good fellow,” he said. He took Vito’s hand and 
clasped it in both of his hairy ones. “You have respect,” he said. “A fine thing in the 
young. Next time speak to me first, eh? Perhaps I can help you in your plans.” 
In later years Vito Corleone understood that what had made him act in such a perfect, 
tactical way with Fanucci was the death of his own hot-tempered father who had been 
killed by the Mafia in Sicily. But at that time all he felt was an icy rage that this man 
planned to rob him of the money he had risked his life and freedom to earn. He had not 
been afraid. Indeed he thought, at that moment, that Fanucci was a crazy fool. From 
what he had seen of Clemenza, that burly Sicilian would sooner give up his life than a 
penny of his loot. After all, Clemenza had been ready to kill a policeman merely to steal 
a rug. And the slender Tessio had the deadly air of a viper. 
But later that night, in Clemenza’s tenement apartment across the air shaft, Vito 
Corleone received another lesson in the education he had just begun. Clemenza 
cursed, Tessio scowled, but then both men started talking about whether Fanucci would 
be satisfied with two hundred dollars. Tessio thought he might. 
Clemenza was positive. “No, that scarface bastard must have found out what we made 
from the wholesaler who bought the dresses. Fanucci won’t take a dime less than three 
hundred dollars. We’ll have to pay.” 
Vito was astonished but was careful not to show his astonishment. “Why do we have to 
pay him? What can he do to the three of us? We’re stronger than him. We have guns. 

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