The Godfather

The horse inside the stall was, even to Hagen’s inexperienced eyes, a beautiful animal. Khartoum’s skin was jet black except for a diamond-shaped white patch on his huge forehead. The great brown eyes glinted like golden apples, the black skin over the taut body was silk. Woltz said with childish pride, “The greatest racehorse in the world. I bought him in England last year for six hundred grand. I bet even the Russian Czars never paid that much for a single horse. But I’m not going to race him, I’m going to put him to stud. I’m going to build the greatest racing stable this country has ever known.” He stroked the horse’s mane and called out softly, “Khartoum, Khartoum.” There was real love in his voice and the animal responded. Woltz said to Hagen, “I’m a good horseman, you know, and the first time I ever rode I was fifty years old.” He laughed. “Maybe one of my grandmothers in Russia got raped by a Cossack and I got his blood.” He tickled Khartoum’s belly and said with sincere admiration, “Look at that cock on him. I should have such a cock.”

They went back to the mansion to have di

“I can’t,” Woltz said. “I can’t put Joh

Hagen said impatiently, “Mr. Woltz, the big advantage of dealing with a man at the top is that such an excuse is not valid. You can do anything you want to do.” He puffed on his cigar. “Don’t you believe my client can keep his promises?”

Woltz said dryly, “I believe that I’m going to have labor trouble. Goff called me up on that, the son of a bitch, and the way he talked to me you’d never guess I pay him a hundred grand a year under the table. And I believe you can get that fag he-man star of mine off heroin. But I don’t care about that and I can finance my own pictures. Because I hate that bastard Fontane. Tell your boss this is one favor I can’t give but that he should try me again on anything else. Anything at all.”

Hagen thought, you sneaky bastard, then why the hell did you bring me all the way out here? The producer had something on his mind. Hagen said coldly, “I don’t think you understand the situation. Mr. Corleone is Joh

Woltz shrugged. “I’m sorry. The answer is still no. But since you’re here, what will it cost me to have that labor trouble cleared up? In cash. Right now.”

That solved one puzzle for Hagen. Why Woltz was putting in so much time on him when he had already decided not to give Joh

Hagen said quietly, “You are deliberately misunderstanding me. You are trying to make me an accomplice to extortion. Mr. Corleone promises only to speak in your favor on this labor trouble as a matter of friendship in return for your speaking in behalf of his client. A friendly exchange of influence, nothing more. But I can see you don’t take me seriously. Personally, I think that is a mistake.”

Woltz, as if he had been waiting for such a moment, let himself get angry. “I understood perfectly,” he said. “That’s the Mafia style, isn’t is? All olive oil and sweet talk when what you’re really doing is making threats. So let me lay it on the line. Joh

For the first time, Woltz succeeded in astounding Hagen. He found it inconceivable that a grown man of substance would let such trivialities affect his judgment in an affair of business, and one of such importance. In Hagen’s world, the Corleones’ world, the physical beauty, the sexual power of women, carried not the slightest weight in worldly matters. It was a private affair, except, of course, in matters of marriage and family disgrace. Hagen decided to make one last try.

“You are absolutely right, Mr. Woltz,” Hagen said. “But are your grievances that major? I don’t think you’ve understood how important this very small favor is to my client. Mr. Corleone held the infant Joh

Woltz stood up abruptly. “I’ve listened to about enough. Thugs don’t give me orders, I give them orders. If I pick up this phone, you’ll spend the night in jail. And if that Mafia goombah tries any rough stuff, he’ll find out I’m not a band leader. Yeah, I heard that story too. Listen, your Mr. Corleone will never know what hit him. Even if I have to use my influence at the White House.”

The stupid, stupid son of a bitch. How the hell did he get to be a pezzonovante, Hagen wondered. Advisor to the President, head of the biggest movie studio in the world. Definitely the Don should get into the movie business. And the guy was taking his words at their sentimental face value. He was not getting the message.

“Thank you for the di

While waiting in the floodlit colo