The Last Don - Mario Puzo [134]
“Let’s stick around,” Cross said to Molly. Then he turned to Marrion, Bantz, Skippy Deere, and Melo Stuart. “If a gambler comes into my hotel and plays a long shot and wins, I pay him the full odds. I don’t say I’ll pay him even money. That’s what you gentlemen are doing here. So why don’t you reconsider this?”
Bantz said with contempt, “This is business not gambling.”
Melo Stuart said soothingly to Cross, “You will make conservatively ten million dollars on your investment. Surely that’s fair.”
“And you didn’t even do anything,” Bantz said.
Only Skippy Deere seemed to be on his side. “Cross, you deserve more. But what they offer is better than a court fight, the risk of losing. Let this one go and you and I will do business again without the Studio. And I promise you’ll get a fair shake.”
Cross knew it was important to seem nonthreatening. He smiled in resignation. “Maybe you’re all right,” he said. “I want to stay in the movie business on good terms with everybody and ten million profit is not a bad start. Molly, take care of the papers. Now I have to catch a plane so please excuse me.” He left the room and Molly followed him.
“We can win in court,” Molly told him.
“I don’t want to go to court,” Cross said. “Make the deal.”
Molly studied him carefully, then she said, “OK, but I’ll get more than ten percent.”
When Cross arrived at the mansion in Quogue the next day, Don Domenico Clericuzio, his sons Giorgio, Vincent, and Petie, and the grandson, Dante, were waiting for him. They had lunch in the garden, a lunch of cold Italian hams and cheeses and an enormous wooden bowl of salad, long loaves of crispy Italian bread. There was the bowl of grated cheese for the Don’s spoon. As they ate, the Don said conversationally, “Croccifixio, we hear you have become involved in the moving picture business.” He paused to sip his red wine. He then took a spoonful of the grated Italian Parmesan cheese.
“Yes,” Cross answered.
Giorgio said, “Is it true that you pledged some of your shares in the Xanadu to finance a movie?”
“That is within my right,” Cross said. “I am, after all, your Bruglione in the West.” He laughed.
“ ’Bruglione’ is right,” Dante said.
The Don shot a disapproving look at his grandson. He said to Cross, “You got involved in a very serious affair without Family consultation. You did not seek our wisdom. Most important of all, you carried out a violent action that might have severe official repercussions. On that, custom is clear, you must have our consent or go your own way and suffer consequences.”
“And you used resources of the Family,” Giorgio said harshly. “The Hunting Lodge in the Sierra. You used Lia Vazzi, Leonard Sossa, and Pollard with his Security Agency. Of course, they are your people in the West but they are also Family resources. Luckily everything went perfectly but what if it had not? We would all have been at risk.”
Don Clericuzio said impatiently, “He knows all that. The question is why. Nephew, years ago you asked not to take part in that necessary work some men must do. I granted your request despite the fact that you were so valuable. Now you do it for your own profit. That is not like the beloved nephew I have always known.”
Cross knew then that the Don was sympathetic to him. He knew he could not tell the truth, that he had been seduced by Athena’s beauty; that would not be a reasonable explanation, indeed it would be insulting. And possibly fatal. What could be more inexcusable than that the attraction to a strange woman outweighed his loyalty to the Clericuzio Family. He spoke carefully. “I saw an opportunity to make a great deal of money,” he said. “I saw a chance to get a foothold in a new business. For me and the Family. A business to be used to turn black money white. But I had to move quickly. Certainly I did not wish to keep it a secret and the proof is that I used Family resources which you must come to know. I wanted to come to you with the deed done.”
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