The Last Don - Mario Puzo [122]
“I have received the highest recommendations,” Pippi said respectfully. “But I worry. Can a man of your education and qualification be happy in America in the service of another man?”
Lia looked at Cross and then said to Pippi, “You have a son. What would you do to save him? I want to have my wife and children safe and for that I will do my duty.”
“There will be some danger for us,” Pippi said. “You understand that I have to think of the benefits that justify the risk.”
Lia shrugged. “I can’t be the judge of that.” He seemed resigned to being refused.
Pippi said, “If you come by yourself, it will be easier.”
“No,” Vazzi said. “My family will live together or die together.” He paused for a moment. “If I leave them here, Rome will make it very difficult for them. I would rather give myself up.”
Pippi said, “The problem is how to hide you and your family.”
Vazzi shrugged. “America is vast,” he said. He offered the plate of olives to Cross and said almost mockingly, “Would your father ever desert you?”
“No,” Cross said. “He is old-fashioned, like yourself.” He said it gravely but with a tiny trace of a smile. Then he said, “I hear you’re a farmer also.”
“Olives,” Vazzi said. “I have my own press.”
Cross said to Pippi, “How about the Family hunting lodge in the Sierras? He could take care of it with his family and earn his keep. It’s isolated. His family can help.” He turned to Lia. “Would you live in the woods?” Woods as the idiom for anything not urban. Lia shrugged.
It was the personal force of Lia Vazzi that persuaded Pippi De Lena. Vazzi was not a big man, but his body put out an electric dignity. He had a chilling effect, a man who was not daunted by death, feared neither Hell nor Heaven.
Pippi said, “It’s a good idea. Perfect camouflage. And we can call on you for special jobs and let you earn extra money. Those jobs will be your risk.”
They could see the muscles on Lia’s face loosen when he realized that he had been chosen. His voice trembled slightly when he spoke. “I want to thank you for saving my wife and children,” he said, and looked directly at Cross De Lena.
Since then Lia Vazzi had more than earned the mercy that had been shown to him. He had risen from soldier to leader of all of Cross’s operational crews. He supervised the six men who helped him care for the Hunting Lodge estate, on whose grounds he owned his own house. He had prospered, he had become a citizen, his children went away to the university. All this earned by his courage and good sense, and most of all, his loyalty. So when he received the message to meet Cross De Lena in Las Vegas, it was with a goodwill that he packed his suitcase in his new Buick and made the long drive to Vegas and the Xanadu Hotel.
Andrew Pollard was the first to arrive in Las Vegas. He flew from L.A. on the noon flight, relaxed by one of the Hotel Xanadu’s huge pools, gambled small-time craps for a few hours, then was secretly whisked into Cross De Lena’s penthouse office suite.
They shook hands and Cross said, “I won’t keep you long. You can fly back tonight. What I need is all the information you have on the Skannet guy.”
Pollard briefed him on everything that had happened and informed him that Skannet was now staying in the Beverly Hills Hotel. He told of his conversation with Bantz.
“So they don’t really give a shit about her, they just want to get the picture done,” he told Cross. “Also, the Studio doesn’t take characters like that seriously. I have a twenty-man section in my company that just handles harassers. Movie stars really have to worry about people like him.”
“What about the cops?” Cross asked. “Can’t they do something?”
“No,” Pollard said. “Not until after the damage.”
“What about you?” Cross asked. “You have some good personnel working for you.”
“I have to be careful,” Pollard said. “I could lose my business if I get tough. You know how the courts are. Why should I stick my neck out?”
“This Boz Skannet, what kind of guy is he?” Cross said.