The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
61
Don looked up at him. “Send Luca Brasi to see me,” he said. 
* * *
Three months later, Hagen hurried through the paper work in his city office hoping to 
leave early enough for some Christmas shopping for his wife and children. He was 
interrupted by a phone call from a Johnny Fontane bubbling with high spirits. The picture 
had been shot, the rushes, whatever the hell they were, Hagen thought, were fabulous. 
He was sending the Don a present for Christmas that would knock his eyes out, he’d 
bring it himself but there were some little things to be done in the movie. He would have 
to stay out on the Coast. Hagen tried to conceal his impatience. Johnny Fontane’s 
charm had always been lost on him. But his interest was aroused. “What is it?” he 
asked. Johnny Fontane chuckled and said, “I can’t tell, that’s the best part of a 
Christmas present.” Hagen immediately lost all interest and finally managed, politely, to 
hang up. 
Ten minutes later his secretary told him that Connie Corleone was on the phone and 
wanted to speak to him. Hagen sighed. As a young girl Connie had been nice, as a 
married woman she was a nuisance. She made complaints about her husband. She 
kept going home to visit her mother for two or three days. And Carlo Rizzi was turning 
out to be a real loser. He had been fixed up with a nice little business and was running it 
into the ground. He was also drinking, whoring around, gambling and beating his wife up 
occasionally. Connie hadn’t told her family about that but she had told Hagen. He 
wondered what new tale of woe she had for him now. 
But the Christmas spirit seemed to have cheered her up. She just wanted to ask Hagen 
what her father would really like for Christmas. And Sonny and Fred and Mike. She 
already knew what she would get her mother. Hagen made some suggestions, all of 
which she rejected as silly. Finally she let him go. 
When the phone rang again, Hagen threw his papers back into the basket. The hell with 
it. He’d leave. It never occurred to him to refuse to take the call, however. When his 
secretary told him it was Michael Corieone he picked up the phone with pleasure. He 
had always liked Mike. 
“Tom,” Michael Corleone said, “I’m driving down to the city with Kay tomorrow. There’s 
something important I want to tell the old man before Christmas. Will he be home 
tomorrow night?” 
“Sure,” Hagen said. “He’s not going out of town until after Christmas. Anything I can do 

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