The Last Don - Mario Puzo [121]
“No, no,” the mayor said. “You have done cleverly as always.”
Pippi was puzzled. All of the recruits would be treated very well. The single men would be given apartments, the married men with a child a small house. They would all have steady jobs. They would all live in the Bronx Enclave. And then some would be chosen as soldiers in the Clericuzio Family and make a handsome living with a bright future. The man whose name had been crossed out by the mayor had to be in very bad odor. But then why had he been cleared for an interview? Pippi sensed a Sicilian rat.
The mayor was observing him shrewdly, seeming to read his mind and pleased by what he read.
“You are too much of a Sicilian for me to deceive you,” the mayor said. “The name I crossed out is a man my daughter intends to marry. I want to keep him here a year longer for my daughter’s happiness, then you can have him. I could not refuse his interview. The other reason is that I have a man who I think you should take in his place. Will you do me the favor of seeing him?”
“Of course,” Pippi said.
The mayor said, “I don’t want to mislead you, but this is a special case and he must leave immediately.”
“You know I have to be very careful,” Pippi said. “The Clericuzio are particular.”
“It will be to your interest,” the mayor said. “But it is a little dangerous.” He then explained about Lia Vazzi. The assassination of the magistrate had made world headlines, so Pippi and Cross were familiar with the case.
“If they have no proof, why is this situation so desperate for Vazzi?” Cross said.
The mayor said, “Young man, this is Sicily. The police are also Sicilians. The magistrate was a Sicilian. Everybody knows it was Lia. Never mind your legal proof. If he falls into their hands, he will be dead.”
Pippi said, “Can you get him out of the country and into America?”
“Yes,” said the mayor. “The difficulty is keeping him hidden in America.”
Pippi said, “He sounds like he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
The mayor shrugged. “He’s a friend of mine, I confess. But put that aside.” He paused and smiled benignly to make sure that it was not put aside. “He is also an ultimate Qualified Man. He is expert in explosives and that is always a very tricky business. He knows the rope, an old and very useful skill. The knife and gun of course. Most important of all he is intelligent, a man of all parts. And steadfast. Like a rock. He never talks. He listens and has the gift of loosening tongues. Now tell me, can you not use a man like that?”
“An answer to my prayers,” Pippi said smoothly. “But still why does such a man run away?”
“Because in addition to all his other virtues,” the mayor said, “he is prudent. He does not challenge fate. His days are numbered here.”
“And a man who’s qualified,” Pippi said, “can he be happy as a mere soldier in America?”
The mayor bowed his head in a sorrowful commiseration. “He is a true Christian,” he said. “He has the humility that Christ has always taught us.”
“I must meet such a man,” Pippi said, “if only for the pleasure of the experience. But I can guarantee nothing.”
The mayor made a wide, expansive gesture. “Of course he must suit you,” he said. “But there is another thing I must tell you. He forbade me to deceive you about this.” For the first time the mayor was not so confident. “He has a wife and three children and they must go with him.”
At that moment Pippi knew his answer would be no. “Ah,” he said, “that makes it very difficult. When do we see him?”
“He will be in the garden after dark,” the mayor said. “There is no danger, I have seen to that.”
Lia Vazzi was a small man but with that wiry toughness that many Sicilians inherited from long-ago Arab ancestors. He had a handsome, hawklike face, a dark brown, dignified mask, and he spoke English to a degree.
They sat around the mayor’s garden table with a bottle of homemade red wine, a dish of olives from the nearby trees, and bread, crusty and freshly baked that evening, round, still warm, and beside it a whole leg of prosciutto, studded