The Last Don - Mario Puzo [85]
Ballazzo, whatever his faults, was a doting father, they all agreed. He had three well-brought-up children. One son was graduating from the Harvard School of Business, the daughter, Ceil, had a fancy cosmetics store on Fifth Avenue, another son did computer work in the space program. They were all deserving of their good fortunes. They were true Americans and lived the American dream.
“So,” the old Don said, “we will send a message to Virginio that will make sense to him. He can inform on everyone else. He can send them all to jail or to the bottom of the ocean. But if he speaks one word about the Clericuzio, his children are forfeit.”
Pippi De Lena said, “Threats don’t seem to scare anybody anymore.”
“The threat will be from me personally,” Don Domenico said. “He will believe me. Promise him nothing for himself. He understands.”
It was Vincent who spoke up then. “We’ll never be able to get near him once he’s in the Protection Program.”
The Don spoke to Pippi De Lena. “And you, Martèllo of mine, what do you say to that?”
Pippi De Lena shrugged. “After he testifies, after they hide him away in the Protection Program, sure we can. But there will be a lot of heat, a lot of publicity. Is it worth it? Does it change anything?”
The Don said, “The publicity, the heat, is what makes it worth doing. We will send the world our message. In fact when it is done it should be done a bella figura.”
Giorgio said, “We could just let events take their course. No matter what Ballazzo says, it can’t bury us. Pop, your answer is a short-term answer.”
The Don pondered that. “What you say is true. But is there a long-term answer to anything? Life is full of doubts, of short-term answers. And you doubt that punishment will stop those others who will be trapped? It may or may not. It will certainly stop some. God himself could not create a world without punishment. I will talk personally to Ballazzo’s lawyer. He will understand me. He will give the message. And Ballazzo will believe it.” He paused for a moment and then sighed. “After the trials, we will do the job.”
“And his wife?” Giorgio asked.
“A good woman,” the Don said. “But she has become too American. We cannot leave a bereaved widow to shout her grief and secrets.”
Petie spoke for the first time. “And Virginio’s children?” Petie was the true assassin.
“Not if it’s not necessary. We are not monsters,” Don Domenico said. “And Ballazzo never told the children his business. He wanted the world to believe that he was a horse rider. So let him ride his horses at the bottom of the ocean.” They were all silent. Then the Don said sadly, “Let the little ones go. After all, we live in a country where children do not avenge their parents.”
The following day the message was transmitted to Virginio Ballazzo by his lawyer. In all these messages, the language was flowery. When the Don spoke to the lawyer he expressed his hope that his old friend Virginio Ballazzo had only the fondest memories of the Clericuzio, who would always look out for their unfortunate friend’s interests. The Don told the lawyer that Ballazzo should never fear for his children where danger lurked, even on Fifth Avenue, but that the Don himself would guarantee their safety. He, the Don, knew how highly Ballazzo prized his children; that jail, the electric chair, the devils in hell, could not frighten his brave friend, only the specter of harm to his children. “Tell him,” the Don said to the lawyer, “that I, personally, I, Don Domenico Clericuzio, guarantee that no misfortune will befall them.”
The lawyer delivered this message word for word to his client, who responded as follows. “Tell my friend, my dearest friend, who grew up with my father in Sicily, that I rely on his guarantees with utmost gratitude. Tell him I have only the fondest memories of all the Clericuzio, so profound that I cannot even speak of them. I kiss his hand.”
Then Ballazzo sang, “Tra la la . . .” at his lawyer. “I think we better go over our testimony very carefully,”