The Last Don - Mario Puzo [129]
“Look at it again,” Vazzi said. “He tried to stab Cross with his right hand.”
Sossa studied the pages again. “Yeah,” he said. “This guy is not a real lefty. He’s just dicking you around.”
Vazzi took the sheets and went back to the Hunting Lodge and entered the library. By Cross’s face he knew something had gone wrong. Cross had a look of bewilderment, and Skannet was lying down on the sofa, his shackled legs extended over the arm, smiling happily up at the ceiling.
“These letters are no good,” Vazzi said. “He wrote them left-handed and the analyst says he’s a rightie.”
Cross said to Skannet, “I think you’re too tough for me to handle. I can’t scare you, I can’t make you do what I want. I give up.”
Skannet rose from the sofa and said malevolently to Cross, “But what I told you is true. Everybody falls in love with Athena, but nobody knows her the way I do.”
Cross said quietly, “You don’t know her. And you don’t know me.” He went to the door and motioned. Four men came into the room. Then Cross turned to Lia. “You know what I want. If he doesn’t give it to me, then just get rid of him.” He walked out of the room.
Lia Vazzi gave a visible sigh of relief. He admired Cross, had been a willing subordinate all these years, but Cross was too patient. It was true that all the great Dons in Sicily excelled in patience, but they knew when to stop. Vazzi suspected that there was an American softness in Cross De Lena that would prevent his rise to greatness.
Vazzi turned to Skannet and said silkily, “You and I, we begin.” He turned to the four men. “Secure his arms, but gently. Don’t hurt him.”
The four men pounced on Skannet. One of the men produced handcuffs, and in a moment Skannet was completely helpless. Vazzi pushed him to the floor on his knees, the other men forced Skannet to stay in place.
“The comedy is finished,” Vazzi said to Skannet. His wiry body seemed relaxed, his voice was conversational. “You will scribble those letters with your right hand. Or you can refuse.” One of the men produced a huge revolver and a box of bullets and handed them to Lia. He loaded the revolver, showing each of the bullets to Skannet. He went to the window and fired into the forest until the gun was empty. Then he went back to Skannet and put one bullet in. Spinning the cylinder, he put the gun under Skannet’s nose.
“I don’t know where the bullet is,” Lia said. “You don’t know where it is. If you still refuse to write the letters, I pull the trigger. Now is it yes or no?”
Skannet looked into Lia’s eyes and did not answer. Lia pulled the trigger. There was just the click of an empty chamber. Lia nodded approvingly. “I was rooting for you,” he said to Skannet.
He looked into the cylinder and put the bullet in the first chamber. He went to the window and fired. The explosion seemed to rock the room. Lia went back to the table, took another bullet from the box, loaded the gun with it, spinning the cylinder.
“We will try again,” Lia said. He put the revolver beneath Skannet’s chin. But this time Skannet flinched.
“Call back your boss,” Skannet said. “I have a few more things I can tell him.”
“No,” Lia said, “that foolishness is over. Now answer yes or no.”
Skannet looked into Lia’s eyes and saw not a threat but a mournful regret. “OK,” Skannet said. “I’ll write.”
He was immediately hauled to his feet and seated at the writing desk. Vazzi sat on the sofa while Skannet busied himself writing. He took the papers from Skannet and went to Sossa’s bungalow. “Is that OK?” he asked.
“This will do fine,” Sossa said.
Vazzi went back to the Hunting Lodge and reported to Cross. Then he went to the library and said to Skannet, “It’s all over. I’ll drive you back to L.A. as soon as I’m ready.” Then Lia walked Cross out to his car.
Cross said, “You know everything you have to do. Wait until morning, I should be back in Vegas by then.”
“Don’t worry,” Vazzi said. “I thought