The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
224
There was no question that the violence in Sonny Corleone’s nature rose from some 
deep mysterious physical well. As they watched they could actually see the blood 
rushing to his heavily corded neck, could see the eyes film with hatred, the separate 
features of his face tightening, growing pinched, then his face took on the grayish hue of 
a sick man fighting off some sort of death, except that the adrenaline pumping through 
his body made his hands tremble. But his voice was controlled, pitched low, as he told 
his sister, “You wait there. You just wait there.” He hung up the phone. 
He stood there for a moment quite stunned with his own rage, then he said, “The fucking 
sonofabitch, the fucking sonofabitch.” He ran out of the house. 
Hagen knew the look on Sonny’s face, all reasoning power had left him. At this moment 
Sonny was capable of anything. Hagen also knew that the ride into the city would cool 
Sonny off, make him more rational. But that rationality might make him even more 
dangerous, though the rationality would enable him to protect himself against the 
consequences of his rage. Hagen heard the car motor roaring into life and he said to the 
two bodyguards, “Go after him.” 
Then he went to the phone and made some calls. He arranged for some men of Sonny’s 
regime living in the city to go up to Carlo Rizzi’s apartment and get Carlo out of there. 
Other men would stay with Connie until Sonny arrived. He was taking a chance, 
thwarting Sonny, but he knew the Don would back him up. He was afraid that Sonny 
might kill Carlo in front of witnesses. He did not expect trouble from the enemy. The Five 
Families had been quiet too long and obviously were looking for peace of some kind. 
By the time Sonny roared out of the mall in his Buick, he had already regained, partly, 
his senses. He noted the two bodyguards getting into a car to follow him and approved. 
He expected no danger, the Five Families had quit counterattacking, were not really 
fighting anymore. He had grabbed his jacket in the foyer and there was a gun in a secret 
dashboard compartment of the car, the car registered in the name of a member of his 
regime, so that he personally could not get into any legal trouble. But he did not 
anticipate needing any weapon. He did not even know what he was going to do with 
Carlo Rizzi. 
Now that he had a chance to think, Sonny knew he could not kill the father of an unborn 
child, and that father his sister’s husband. Not over a domestic spat. Except that it was 
not just a domestic spat. Carlo was a bad guy and Sonny felt responsible that his sister 
had met the bastard through him. 

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