The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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told him it would be about a three-hour drive but that the car was equipped with a bar 
and some hors d’oeuvres. Hagen knew that Woltz made the trip in his private plane and 
wondered why he hadn’t been invited to make the trip by air. The secretary’s voice was 
adding politely, “Mr. Woltz suggested you bring an overnight bag and he’ll get you to the 
airport in the morning.” 
“I’ll do that,” Hagen said. That was another thing to wonder about. How did Woltz know 
he was taking the morning plane back to New York? He thought about it for a moment. 
The most likely explanation was that Woltz had set private detectives on his trail to get 
all possible information. Then Woltz certainly knew he represented the Don, which 
meant that he knew something about the Don, which in turn meant that he was now 
ready to take the whole matter seriously. Something might be done after all, Hagen 
thought. And maybe Woltz was smarter than he had appeared this morning. 
* * *
The home of Jack Woltz looked like an implausible movie set. There was a 
plantation-type mansion, huge grounds girdled by a rich black-dirt bridle path, stables 
and pasture for a herd of horses. The hedges, flower beds and grasses were as 
carefully manicured as a movie star’s nails. 
Woltz greeted Hagen on a glass-paneled air-conditioned porch. The producer was 
informally dressed in blue silk shirt open at the neck, mustard-colored slacks, soft 
leather sandals. Framed in all this color and rich fabric his seamed, tough face was 
startling. He handed Hagen an outsized martini glass and took one for himself from the 
prepared tray. He seemed more friendly than he had been earlier in the day. He put his 
arm over Hagen’s shoulder and said, “We have a little time before dinner, let’s go look at 
my horses.” As they walked toward the stables he said, “I checked you out, Tom; you 
should have told me your boss is Corleone. I thought you were just some third-rate 
hustler Johnny was running in to bluff me. And I don’t bluff. Not that I want to make 
enemies, I never believed in that. But let’s just enjoy ourselves now. We can talk 
business after dinner.” 
Surprisingly Woltz proved to be a truly considerate host. He explained his new methods, 
innovations that he hoped would make his stable the most successful in America. The 
stables were all fire-proofed, sanitized to the highest degree, and guarded by a special 
security detail of private detectives. Finally Woltz led him to a stall which had a huge 
bronze plaque attached to its outside wall. On the plaque was the name “Khartoum.” 

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