The Last Don - Mario Puzo [222]
“An unbribable public official,” Cross said with a shrug. “It happens.”
He thought of David Redfellow again. Redfellow would violently disagree that there was any such animal. And Cross envisioned how Redfellow had managed everything. Redfellow probably said to the DA, “I’m bribing you to do your duty?” And as for the money, Redfellow would have immediately gone to the limit. Twenty, Cross figured. On a ten-billion buy of the Studio, what the hell was twenty million? And with no risk for the DA. He would be acting strictly according to law. It was really elegant.
Claudia was still talking, fast. “Anyway, Bantz had to step down,” she said. “And Dora and Kevin were happy to sell the Studio. Plus the deal for five green lights on their own movies, a billion dollars cash in their pockets. And this little Italian guy appears at the Studio, calls a meeting and announces he will be the new owner. And then right out of the blue, he makes me head of the Studio. Skippy was pissed. Now, I’m his boss. Is this crazy?”
Cross just watched her with amusement, then he smiled.
Suddenly, Claudia stood back and looked at her brother. And her eyes were darker, sharper, more intelligent than he had ever seen before. But she had a good-natured smile on her face when she said, “Just like the boys, right, Cross? Now, I’m doing it just like the boys. And I didn’t even have to fuck anybody. . . .”
Cross was surprised. “What’s the matter, Claudia?” he asked. “I thought you were happy.”
Claudia smiled. “I am happy. I’m just not dumb. And because you’re my brother, and I love you, I want you to know that I haven’t been fooled.”
She walked over and sat on the couch next to him. “I lied when I said I went to Daddy’s funeral just for you. I went because I wanted to be part of something that he was part of, that you were part of. I went because I couldn’t stay away any longer. But I do hate what they stand for, Cross. The Don as well as the others.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to run the Studio?” Cross asked.
Claudia laughed aloud. “No, I’m willing to admit I’m still a Clericuzio. And I want to make good movies and make a lot of money. Movies are great equalizers, Cross. I can make a good movie about great women. . . . Let’s see what can happen when I use the Family talents for good instead of evil.” They both laughed.
Then Cross took her in his arms. He kissed her on the cheek. “I think it’s great, really great,” he said.
And he meant it for himself as well as for her. For if Don Clericuzio had made her head of the Studio, he did not connect Cross with the disappearance of Dante. The whole scheme had worked.
They had finished dinner and had been talking for hours. When Claudia rose to leave, Cross took a purse of black chips from his desk. “Take a shot at the tables on the house,” he said.
She gave him a soft slap on the cheek and said, “Only if you’re not going to get into that big brother thing again and talk to me like a child. That last time I wanted to deck you.”
He hugged her, it felt good to feel her so close. In a moment of weakness, he said, “You know, I left a third of my estate to you in case anything happens. And I’m very rich. So you can always tell the Studio to fuck off if you want to.”
Claudia eyes were shining when she said, “Cross, I appreciate you worrying about me, but I can tell the Studio to fuck off anyway, without your estate . . .” Then suddenly she looked worried. “Is anything wrong? Are you sick?”
“No, no,” Cross said. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank God,” Claudia said. “Now that I’m in, maybe you can get out. You can break away from the Family. You can be free.”
Cross laughed. “I am free,” he said. “I’m going away very soon, to live with Athena in France.”
On the afternoon of the tenth day, Giorgio Clericuzio appeared at the Xanadu to see him, and Cross felt a sinking