Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

Amerigo Bonasera had a terrible nightmare. In his dreams he saw Don Corleone, in peaked cap, overalls and heavy gloves, unloading bullet-riddled corpses in front of his funeral parlor and shouting, "Remember, Amerigo, not a word to anyone, and bury them quickly." He groaned so loud and long in his sleep that his wife shook him awake. "Eh, what a man you are," she grumbled. "To have a nightmare only after a wedding."

Kay Adams was escorted to her New York City hotel by Paulie Gatto and Clemenza. The car was large, luxurious and driven by Gatto. Clemenza sat in the back seat and Kay was given the front seat next to the driver. She found both men wildly exotic. Their speech was movie Brooklynese and they treated her with exaggerated courtliness. During the ride she chatted casually with both men and was surprised when they spoke of Michael with unmistakable affection and respect. He had led her to believe that he was an alien in his father's world. Now Clemenza was assuring her in his wheezing gutteral voice that the "old man" thought Mike was the best of his sons, the one who would surely inherit the family business.

"What business is that?" Kay asked in the most natural way.

Paulie Gatto gave her a quick glance as he turned the wheel. Behind her Clemenza said in a surprised voice. "Didn't Mike tell you? Mr. Corleone is the biggest importer of Italian olive oil in the States. Now that the war is over the business could get real rich. He'll need a smart boy like Mike."

At the hotel Clemenza insisted on coming to the desk with her. When she protested, he said simply, "The boss said to make sure you got home OK. I gotta do it."

After she received her room key he walked her to the elevator and waited until she got in. She waved to him, smiling, and was surprised at his genuine smile of pleasure in return. It was just as well she did not see him go back to the hotel clerk and ask, "What name she registered under?"

The hotel clerk looked at Clemenza coldly. Clemenza rolled the little green spitball he was holding in his hand across to the clerk, who picked it up and immediately said, "Mr. and Mrs. Michael Corleone."

Back in the car, Paulie Gatto said, "Nice dame."

Clemenza grunted. "Mike is doing the job on her." Unless, he thought, they were really married. "Pick me up early in the morning," he told Paulie Gatto. "Hagen got some deal for us that gotta be done right away."

It was late Sunday night before Tom Hagen could kiss his wife goodbye and drive out to the airport. With his special number one priority (с удостоверением, дающим ему право внеочередной, первоочередной посадки /на самолет/; priority [praı’orıtı] – приоритет; преимущество; очередность) (a grateful gift («благодарный дар») from a Pentagon staff general officer (офицера ген. штаба; staff [sta:f] – штат /служащих/; кадры)) he had no trouble getting on a plane to Los Angeles (не было проблем сесть на самолет).

It had been a busy but satisfying day (удачный: «удовлетворяющий» день; to satisfy [‘sætısfaı] – удовлетворять) for Tom Hagen. Genco Abbandando had died at three in the morning and when Don Corleone returned from the hospital, he had informed Hagen that he was now officially the new Consigliori to the family. This meant that Hagen was sure to become a very rich man, to say nothing of power (не говоря уж о власти).

The Don had broken a long-standing tradition (нарушил давнюю традицию). The Consigliori was always a full-blooded Sicilian («полнокровный» = чистокровный сицилиец), and the fact that Hagen had been brought up as a member of the Don's family (был выращен, воспитан) made no difference to that tradition. It was a question of blood. Only a Sicilian born to the ways of omerta (который с молоком матери впитывал в себя круговую поруку и обычай кровной мести /итал./), the law of silence (закон молчания), could be trusted in the key post of Consigliori.