The Last Don - Mario Puzo [157]
“My favorite cousin,” Cross said dryly. Of all the Cleri-cuzio he liked Giorgio least, and it was obvious the senator felt the same way.
Then Wavven delivered the bombshell. “The president has told me he will veto the bill.”
Cross had been feeling jubilant over the final success of Don Clericuzio’s master plan. To build a legitimate empire based on legal gambling. Now, he was confused. What the hell was Wavven babbling about?
“And we don’t have enough votes to overcome a veto,” Wavven said.
Just to give himself time to recover his composure, Cross said, “So the five mil is for the president?”
The senator was horrified. “Oh, no, no,” he said. “We’re not even in the same party. And besides, the president will be a very rich man when he retires into private life. Every board of directors of every big company will want him. He has no need for petty cash.” Wavven gave Cross a satisfied smile. “Things work differently when you are the president of the United States.”
“So we’re nowhere unless the president drops dead,” Cross said.
“Exactly,” Wavven said. “He is a very popular president, I must say, though we are in opposing parties. He will surely be reelected. We must be patient.”
“So we have to wait five years and then hope to get a president who won’t veto?”
“That’s not exactly true,” the senator said, and here he faltered a bit. “I must be honest with you. In five years the composition of the Congress may change, I may not have the votes I have now.” He paused again. “There are many factors.”
Cross was completely bewildered now. What the hell was Wavven really saying? Then the senator tipped his hand. “Of course if something happens to the president, the vice president will sign the bill. So, as malicious as it sounds, you have to hope that the president has a heart attack or his plane crashes, or he has an incapacitating stroke. It could happen. All of us are mortal.” The senator was beaming at him and then suddenly it all became clear to Cross.
He felt a flash of anger. This bastard was giving him a message for the Clericuzio: The senator had done his part, now they had to kill the president of the United States to get the bill passed. And he was so slick and so sly, he had not implicated himself in any concrete way. Cross was sure the Don would not go for it, and if he did, Cross would refuse to be part of the Family ever after.
Wavven was going on with an affable smile. “It looks pretty hopeless but you never know. Fate may take a hand and the vice president is a very close friend of mine, even though we’re from different parties. I know for a fact, he will approve my bill. We just have to wait and see.”
Cross could scarcely believe what the senator was saying. Senator Wavven was the personification of the virtuous All-American politician, though admittedly with a weakness for women and innocent golf. His face was honorably handsome and his voice patrician. He presented himself as one of the most likable men on earth. Yet he was implying that the Cleri-cuzio Family assassinate his own president. This is a piece of work, Cross thought.
The senator was now picking at the food on the table. “I’m only staying for one night,” he said. “I hope you have some girls in your show who would like to have dinner with an old geezer like me.”
Back in his penthouse suite Cross called Giorgio and told him he would be in Quogue the next day. Giorgio told him the Family driver would pick him up at the airport. He didn’t ask any questions. The Clericuzio never talked business on the phone.
When Cross arrived at the Quogue mansion, he was surprised to find a full attendance. Assembled in the windowless den were not only the Don, but also Pippi, and the Don’s three sons, Giorgio, Vincent, and Petie, and even Dante, wearing a sky-blue Renaissance hat.
There was no food in the den, dinner was to come later. As usual the Don made everyone look at the photos of Silvio and the christening of Cross