Chapter 2.1

Tom Hagen went to his law office in the city on Thursday morning. He planned to catch

up on his paper work so as to have everything cleared away for the meeting with Virgil

Sollozzo on Friday. A meeting of such importance that he had asked the Don for a full

evening of talk to prepare for the proposition they knew Sollozzo would offer the family

business. Hagen wanted to have all little details cleared away so that he could go to that

preparatory meeting with an unencumbered mind.

The Don had not seemed surprised when Hagen returned from California late Tuesday

evening and told him the results of the negotiations with Woltz. He had made Hagen go

over every detail and grimaced with distaste when Hagen told about the beautiful little

girl and her mother. He had murmured "infamita," his strongest disapproval. He had

asked Hagen one final question. "Does this man have real balls?"

Hagen considered exactly what the Don meant by this question. Over the years he had

learned that the Don's values were so different from those of most people that his words

also could have a different meaning. Did Woltz have character? Did he have a strong

will? He most certainly did, but that was not what the Don was asking. Did the movie

producer have the courage not to be bluffed? Did he have the willingness to suffer

heavy financial loss delay on his movies would mean, the scandal of his big star

exposed as a user of heroin? Again the answer was yes. But again this was not what

the Don meant. Finally Hagen translated the question properly in his mind. Did Jack

Woltz have the balls to risk everything, to run the chance of losing all on a matter of

principle, on a matter of honor; for revenge?

Hagen smiled. He did it rarely but now he could not resist jesting with the Don. "You're

asking if he is a Sicilian." The Don nodded his head pleasantly, acknowledging the

flattering witticism and its truth. "No," Hagen said.

That had been all. The Don had pondered the question until the next day. On

Wednesday afternoon he had called Hagen to his home and given him his instructions.

The instructions had consumed the rest of Hagen's working day and left him dazed with

admiration. There was no question in his mind that the Don had solved the problem, that

Woltz would call him this morning with the news that Johnny Fontane had the starring

part in his new war movie.

At that moment the phone did ring but it was Amerigo Bonasera. The undertaker's voice

was trembling with gratitude. He wanted Hagen to convey to the Don his undying

friendship. The Don had only to call on him. He, Amerigo Bonasera, would lay down his

life for the blessed Godfather. Hagen assured him that the Don would be told.

The Daily News had carried a middle-page spread of Jerry Wagner and Kevin Moonan

lying in the street. The photos were expertly gruesome, they seemed to be pulps of

human beings. Miraculously, said the News, they were both still alive though they would

both be in the hospital for months and would require plastic surgery. Hagen made a note

to tell Clemenza that something should be done for Paulie Gatto. He seemed to know

his job.

Hagen worked quickly and efficiently for the next three hours consolidating earning

reports from the Don's real estate company, his olive oil importing business and his

construction firm. None of them were doing well but with the war over they should all

become rich producers. He had almost forgotten the Johnny Fontane problem when his

secretary told him California was calling. He felt a little thrill of anticipation as he picked

up the phone and said, "Hagen here."

The voice that came over the phone was unrecognizable with hate and passion. "You

fucking bastard," Woltz screamed. "I'll have you all in jail for a hundred years. I'll spend

every penny I have to get you. I'll get that Johnny Fontane's balls cut off, do you hear

me, you guinea fuck?"

Hagen said kindly, "I'm German-Irish." There was a long pause and then a click of the

phone being hung up. Hagen smiled. Not once had Woltz uttered a threat against Don

Corleone himself. Genius had its rewards.