The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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been losing money? I don’t control that end, Moe Greene does. What the hell does the 
old man want from me?” 
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael said. He turned to Johnny Fontane. “Where’s Nino? I was 
looking forward to seeing him again.” 
Johnny shrugged. “Nino is pretty sick. A nurse is taking care of him in his room. But the 
doc here says he should be committed, that he’s trying to kill himself. Nino!” 
Michael said thoughtfully, really surprised, “Nino was always a real good guy. I never 
knew him to do anything lousy, say anything to put anybody down. He never gave a 
damn about anything. Except the booze.” 
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “The money is rolling in, he could get a lot of work, singing or in the 
movies. He gets fifty grand a picture now and he blows it. He doesn’t give a damn about 
being famous. All the years we’ve been buddies I’ve never known him to do anything 
creepy. And the son of a bitch is drinking himself to death.” 
Jules was about to say something when there was a knock on the door of the suite. He 
was surprised when the man in the armchair, the man nearest the door, did not answer 
it but kept reading the newspaper. It was Hagen who went to open it. And was almost 
brushed aside when Moe Greene came striding into the room followed by his two 
bodyguards. 
Moe Greene was a handsome hood who had made his rep as a Murder Incorporated 
executioner in Brooklyn. He had branched out into gambling and gone west to seek his 
fortune, had been the first person to see the possibilities of Las Vegas and built one of 
the first hotel casinos on the Strip. He still had murderous tantrums and was feared by 
everyone in the hotel, not excluding Freddie, Lucy and Jules Segal. They always stayed 
out of his way whenever possible. 
His handsome face was grim now. He said to Michael Corleone, “I’ve been waiting 
around to talk to you, Mike. I got a lot of things to do tomorrow so I figured I’d catch you 
tonight. How about it?” 
Michael Corleone looked at him with what seemed to be friendly astonishment. “Sure,” 
he said. He motioned in Hagen’s direction. “Get Mr. Greene a drink, Tom.” 
Jules noticed that the man called Albert Neri was studying Moe Greene intently, not 
paying any attention to the bodyguards who were leaning against the door. He knew 
there was no chance of any violence, not in Vegas itself. That was strictly forbidden as 

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