The Last Don - Mario Puzo [79]
Giorgio prowled uneasily in the room, avoiding the statues on their pedestals, the curtained Jacuzzi whose marble seemed to shine through the fabric. He said to Gronevelt, “You promised him without our OK?”
“Yes,” Gronevelt said. “It was a matter of persuasion. I had to be positive to give him a sense that he still has power. That he could, still, cause things to happen, and so make power appeal to him again.”
Giorgio sighed. “I hate this part of the business,” he said.
Pippi smiled. Giorgio was so full of shit. He had helped wipe out the Santadio Family with a savageness that made the old Don proud.
“I think we need Pippi’s expertise on this,” Gronevelt said. “And I think it’s time for his son, Cross, to join the Family.”
Giorgio looked at Pippi. “Do you think Cross is ready?” he asked.
Pippi said, “He’s had all the gravy, it’s time for him to earn his living.”
“But will he do it?” Giorgio asked. “It’s a big step.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Pippi said. “He’ll do it.”
Giorgio turned toward Gronevelt. “We do it for the governor, then what if he forgets about us? We take the risk and it’s all for nothing. Here’s a man who is governor of Nevada, his daughter gets killed and he lies down. He has no balls.”
“He did do something, he came to me,” Gronevelt said. “You have to understand people like the governor. That took a lot of balls for him.”
“So he’ll come through?” Giorgio said.
“We’ll save him for the few big things,” Gronevelt said. “I’ve done business with him for twenty years. I guarantee he comes through if he’s handled right. He knows the score, he’s very smart.”
Giorgio said, “Pippi, it has to look like an accident. This will get a lot of heat. We want the governor to escape any innuendos from his enemies or the papers and that fucking TV.”
Gronevelt said, “Yes, it’s important that nothing can be implied about the governor.”
Giorgio said, “Maybe this is too tricky for Cross to make his bones on.”
“No, this is perfect for him,” Pippi said. And they could not object. Pippi was the commander in the field. He had proved himself in many operations of this kind, especially in the great war against the Santadio. He had often told the Clericuzio Family, “It’s my ass on the line, if I get stuck, I want it to be my fault, not somebody else’s.”
Giorgio clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s get it done. Alfred, how about a round of golf in the morning? Tomorrow night I go on business to L.A. and the day after I go back East. Pippi, let me know who you want from the Enclave to help, and tell me if Cross is in or out.”
And with that Pippi knew that Cross would never be admitted to the inside of the Clericuzio Family if he refused this operation.
Golf had become a passion for Pippi’s generation of the Cleri-cuzio Family; the old Don made malicious jokes that it was a game for Brugliones. Pippi and Cross were on the Xanadu course that afternoon. They didn’t use driving carts; Pippi wanted the exercise of walking and the solitude of the greens.
Just off the ninth hole there was an orchard of trees with a bench beneath. They sat there.
“I won’t live forever,” Pippi said. “And you have to make a living. The Collection Agency is a big moneymaker but tough to keep. You have to be in solid with the Clericuzio Family.” Pippi had prepared Cross, had sent him on some tough collecting missions where he had to use force and abuse, had exposed him to Family gossip; he knew the score. Pippi had waited patiently for the right situation, for a target that would not arouse sympathy.
Cross said quietly, “I understand.”
Pippi said, “That guy that killed the governor’s daughter. A punk prick and he gets away with it. That’s not right.”
Cross was amused by his father’s psychology. “And the governor is our friend,” he said.
“That’s right,” Pippi said. “Cross, you can say no, remem-ber that. But I want you to help me on a job I have to do.”
Cross looked down the rolling greens, the flags above the holes dead still in the desert air, the silvery mountain ranges beyond, the sky reflecting the neon signs of the Strip he could