mp.godfather-第110部分

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t　to　them。　Please；　Michael。〃
　
　She　could　see　he　was　angry　with　her　for　insisting　and　expected　him　to　refuse。　So　she　was　surprised　when　he　nodded　and　said；　〃OK。　But　I　can't　leave　the　mall。　Tell　them　to　arrange　for　the　priest　to　confirm　the　kid　here。　I'll　pay　whatever　it　costs。　If　they　run　into　trouble　with　the　church　people；　Hagen　will　straighten　it　out。〃
　
　And　so　the　day　before　the　meeting　with　the　Barzini　Family；　Michael　Corleone　stood　Godfather　to　the　son　of　Carlo　and　Connie　Rizzi。　He　presented　the　boy　with　an　extremely　expensive　wristwatch　and　gold　band。　There　was　a　small　party　in　Carlo's　house；　to　which　were　invited　the　caporegimes；　Hagen；　Lampone　and　everyone　who　lived　on　the　mall；　including；　of　course；　the　Don's　widow。　Connie　was　so　overe　with　emotion　that　she　hugged　and　kissed　her　brother　and　Kay　all　during　the　evening。　And　even　Carlo　Rizzi　became　sentimental；　wringing　Michael's　hand　and　calling　him　Godfather　at　every　excuse…　old　country　style。　Michael　himself　had　never　been　so　affable；　so　outgoing。　Connie　whispered　to　Kay；　〃I　think　Carlo　and　Mike　are　going　to　be　real　friends　now。　Something　like　this　always　brings　people　together。〃
　
　Kay　squeezed　her　sister…in…law's　arm。　〃I'm　so　glad；〃　she　said。
　
　Chapter　30
　
　Albert　Neri　sat　in　his　Bronx　apartment　and　carefully　brushed　the　blue　serge　of　his　old　policeman's　uniform。　He　unpinned　the　badge　and　set　it　on　the　table　to　be　polished。　The　regulation　holster　and　gun　were　draped　over　a　chair。　This　old　routine　of　detail　made　him　happy　in　some　strange　way；　one　of　the　few　times　he　had　felt　happy　since　his　wife　had　left　him；　nearly　two　years　ago。
　
　He　had　married　Rita　when　she　was　a　high　school　kid　and　he　was　a　rookie　policeman。　She　was　shy；　dark…haired；　from　a　straitlaced　Italian　family　who　never　let　her　stay　out　later　than　ten　o'clock　at　night。　Neri　was　pletely　in　love　with　her；　her　innocence；　her　virtue；　as　well　as　her　dark　prettiness。
　
　At　first　Rita　Neri　was　fascinated　by　her　husband。　He　was　immensely　strong　and　she　could　see　people　were　afraid　of　him　because　of　that　strength　and　his　unbending　attitude　toward　what　was　right　and　wrong。　He　was　rarely　tactful。　If　he　disagreed　with　a　group's　attitude　or　an　individual's　opinion；　he　kept　his　mouth　shut　or　brutally　spoke　his　contradiction。　He　never　gave　a　polite　agreement。　He　also　had　a　true　Sicilian　temper　and　his　rages　could　be　awesome。　But　he　was　never　angry　with　his　wife。
　
　Neri　in　the　space　of　five　years　became　one　of　the　most　feared　policemen　on　the　New　York　City　force。　Also　one　of　the　most　honest。　But　he　had　his　own　ways　of　enforcing　the　law。　He　hated　punks　and　when　he　saw　a　bunch　of　young　rowdies　making　a　disturbance　on　a　street　corner　at　night；　disturbing　passersby；　he　took　quick　and　decisive　action。　He　employed　a　physical　strength　that　was　truly　extraordinary；　which　he　himself　did　not　fully　appreciate。
　
　One　night　in　Central　Park　West　he　jumped　out　of　the　patrol　car　and　lined　up　six　punks　in　black　silk　jackets。　His　partner　remained　in　the　driver's　seat；　not　wanting　to　get　involved；　knowing　Neri。　The　six　boys；　all　in　their　late　teens；　had　been　stopping　people　and　asking　them　for　cigarettes　in　a　youthfully　menacing　way　but　not　doing　anyone　any　real　physical　harm。　They　had　also　teased　girls　going　by　with　a　sexual　gesture　more　French　than　American。
　
　Neri　lined　them　up　against　the　stone　wall　that　closed　off　Central　Park　from　Eighth　Avenue。　It　was　twilight；　but　Neri　carried　his　favorite　weapon；　a　huge　flashlight。　He　never　bothered　drawing　his　gun；　it　was　never　necessary。　His　face　when　he　was　angry　was　so　brutally　menacing；　bined　with　his　uniform；　that　the　usual　punks　were　cowed。　These　were　no　exception。
　
　Neri　asked　the　first　youth　in　the　black　silk　jacket；　〃What's　your　name？〃　The　kid　answered　with　an　Irish　name。　Neri　told　him；　〃Get　off　the　street。　I　see　you　again　tonight；　I'll　crucify　you。〃　He　motioned　with　his　flashlight　and　the　youth　walked　quickly　away。　Neri　followed　the　same　procedure　with　the　next　two　boys。　He　let　them　walk　off。　But　the　fourth　boy　gave　an　Italian　name　and　smiled　at　Neri　as　if　to　claim　some　sort　of　kinship。　Neri　was　unmistakably　of　Italian　descent。　Neri　looked　at　this　youth　for　a　moment　and　asked　superfluously；　〃You　Italian？〃　The　boy　grinned　confidently。
　
　Neri　hit　him　a　stunning　blow　on　the　forehead　with　his　flashlight。　The　boy　dropped　to　his　knees。　The　skin　and　flesh　of　his　forehead　had　cracked　open　and　blood　poured　down　his　face。　But　it　was　strictly　a　flesh　wound。　Neri　said　to　him　harshly；　〃You　son　of　a　bitch；　you're　a　disgrace　to　the　Italians。　You　give　us　all　a　bad　name。　Get　on　your　feet。〃　He　gave　the　youth　a　kick　in　the　side；　not　gentle；　not　too　hard。　〃Get　home　and　stay　off　the　street。　Don't　ever　let　me　catch　you　wearing　that　jacket　again　either。　I'll　send　you　to　the　hospital。　Now　get　home。　You're　lucky　I'm　not　your　father。〃
　
　Neri　didn't　bother　with　the　other　two　punks。　He　just　booted　their　asses　down　the　Avenue；　telling　them　he　didn't　want　them　on　the　street　that　night。
　
　In　such　encounters　all　was　done　so　quickly　that　there　was　no　time　for　a　crowd　to　gather　or　for　someone　to　protest　his　actions。　Neri　would　get　into　the　patrol　car　and　his　partner　would　zoom　it　away。　Of　course　once　in　a　while　there　would　be　a　real　hard　case　who　wanted　to　fight　and　might　even　pull　a　knife。　These　were　truly　unfortunate　people。　Neri　would；　with　awesome；　quick　ferocity；　beat　them　bloody　and　throw　them　into　the　patrol　car。　They　would　be　put　under　arrest　and　charged　with　assaulting　an　officer。　But　usually　their　case　would　have　to　wait　until　they　were　discharged　from　the　hospital。
　
　Eventually　Neri　was　transferred　to　the　beat　that　held　the　United　Nations　building　area；　mainly　because　he　had　not　shown　his　precinct　sergeant　the　proper　respect。　The　United　Nations　people　with　their　diplomatic　immunity　parked　their　limousines　all　over　the　streets　without　regard　to　police　regulations。　Neri　plained　to　the　precinct　and　was　told　not　to　make　waves；　to　just　ignore　it。　But　one　night　there　was　a　whole　side　street　that　was　impassable　because　of　the　carelessly　parked　autos。　It　was　after　midnight；　so　Neri　took　his　huge　flashlight　from　the　patrol　car　and　went　down　the　street　smashing　windshields　to　smithereens。　It　was　not　easy；　even　for　high…ranking　diplomats；　to　get　the　windshields　repaired　in　less　than　a　few　days。　Protests　poured　into　the　police　precinct　station　house　demanding　protection　against　this　vandalism。　After　a　week　of　windshield　smashing　the　truth　gradually　hit　somebody　about　what　was　actually　happening　and　Albert　Neri　was　transferred　to　Harlem。
　
　One　Sunday　shortly　afterward；　Neri　took　his　wife　to　visit　his　widowed　sister　in　Brooklyn。　Albert　Neri　had　the　fierce　protective　affection　for　his　sister　mon　to　all　Sicilians　and　he　always　visited　her　at　least　once　every　couple　of　months　to　make　sure　she　was　all　right。　She　was　much　older　than　he　was　and　had　a　son　who　was　twenty。　This　son；　Thomas；　without　a　father's　hand；　was　giving　trouble。　He　had　gotten　into　a　few　minor　scrapes；　was　running　a　little　wild。　Neri　had　once　used　his　contacts　on　the　police　force　to　keep　the　youth　from　being　charged　with　larceny。　On　that　occasion　he　had　kept　his　anger　in　check　but　had　given　his　nephew　a　warning。　〃Tommy；　you　make　my　sister　cry　over　you　and　I'll　straighten　you　out　myself。〃　It　was　intended　as　a　friendly　pally…uncle　warning；　not　really　as　a　threat。　But　even　though　Tommy　was　the　toughest　kid　in　that　tough　Brooklyn　neighborhood；　he　was　afraid　of　his　Uncle　Al。
　
　On　this　particular　visit　Tommy　had　e　in　very　late　Saturday　night　and　was　still　sleeping　in　his　room。　His　mother　went　to　wake　him；　telling　him　to　get　dressed　so　that　he　could　eat　Sunday　dinner　with　his　uncle　and　aunt。　The　boy's　voice　came　harshly　through　the　partly　opened　door；　〃I　don't　give　a　shit；　let　me　sleep；〃　and　his　mother　came　back　out　into　the　kitchen　smiling　apologetically。
　
　So　they　had　to　eat　their　dinner　without　him。　Neri　asked　his　sister　if　Tommy　was　giving　her　any　real　trouble　and　she　shook　her　head。
　
　Neri　and　his　wife　were　about　to　leave　when　Tommy　finally　got　up。　He　barely　grumbled　a　hello　and　went　into　the　kitchen。　Finally　he　yelled　in　to　his　mother；　〃Hey；　Ma；　how　about　cooking　me　something　t