mp.godfather-第70部分

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　By　this　time　Hagen　had　e　into　the　room。　The　Don　was　already　under　a　sedated　sleep　in　the　bedroom　above　and　Hagen　wanted　to　keep　an　eye　on　Sonny　in　all　crises。　The　two　interior　bodyguards　were　also　in　the　kitchen。　Everybody　was　watching　Sonny　as　he　listened　on　the　phone。
　
　There　was　no　question　that　the　violence　in　Sonny　Corleone's　nature　rose　from　some　deep　mysterious　physical　well。　As　they　watched　they　could　actually　see　the　blood　rushing　to　his　heavily　corded　neck；　could　see　the　eyes　film　with　hatred；　the　separate　features　of　his　face　tightening；　growing　pinched；　then　his　face　took　on　the　grayish　hue　of　a　sick　man　fighting　off　some　sort　of　death；　except　that　the　adrenaline　pumping　through　his　body　made　his　hands　tremble。　But　his　voice　was　controlled；　pitched　low；　as　he　told　his　sister；　〃You　wait　there。　You　just　wait　there。〃　He　hung　up　the　phone。
　
　He　stood　there　for　a　moment　quite　stunned　with　his　own　rage；　then　he　said；　〃The　fucking　sonofabitch；　the　fucking　sonofabitch。〃　He　ran　out　of　the　house。
　
　Hagen　knew　the　look　on　Sonny's　face；　all　reasoning　power　had　left　him。　At　this　moment　Sonny　was　capable　of　anything。　Hagen　also　knew　that　the　ride　into　the　city　would　cool　Sonny　off；　make　him　more　rational。　But　that　rationality　might　make　him　even　more　dangerous；　though　the　rationality　would　enable　him　to　protect　himself　against　the　consequences　of　his　rage。　Hagen　heard　the　car　motor　roaring　into　life　and　he　said　to　the　two　bodyguards；　〃Go　after　him。〃
　
　Then　he　went　to　the　phone　and　made　some　calls。　He　arranged　for　some　men　of　Sonny's　regime　living　in　the　city　to　go　up　to　Carlo　Rizzi's　apartment　and　get　Carlo　out　of　there。　Other　men　would　stay　with　Connie　until　Sonny　arrived。　He　was　taking　a　chance；　thwarting　Sonny；　but　he　knew　the　Don　would　back　him　up。　He　was　afraid　that　Sonny　might　kill　Carlo　in　front　of　witnesses。　He　did　not　expect　trouble　from　the　enemy。　The　Five　Families　had　been　quiet　too　long　and　obviously　were　looking　for　peace　of　some　kind。
　
　By　the　time　Sonny　roared　out　of　the　mall　in　his　Buick；　he　had　already　regained；　partly；　his　senses。　He　noted　the　two　bodyguards　getting　into　a　car　to　follow　him　and　approved。　He　expected　no　danger；　the　Five　Families　had　quit　counterattacking；　were　not　really　fighting　anymore。　He　had　grabbed　his　jacket　in　the　foyer　and　there　was　a　gun　in　a　secret　dashboard　partment　of　the　car；　the　car　registered　in　the　name　of　a　member　of　his　regime；　so　that　he　personally　could　not　get　into　any　legal　trouble。　But　he　did　not　anticipate　needing　any　weapon。　He　did　not　even　know　what　he　was　going　to　do　with　Carlo　Rizzi。
　
　Now　that　he　had　a　chance　to　think；　Sonny　knew　he　could　not　kill　the　father　of　an　unborn　child；　and　that　father　his　sister's　husband。　Not　over　a　domestic　spat。　Except　that　it　was　not　just　a　domestic　spat。　Carlo　was　a　bad　guy　and　Sonny　felt　responsible　that　his　sister　had　met　the　bastard　through　him。
　
　The　paradox　in　Sonny's　violent　nature　was　that　he　could　not　hit　a　woman　and　had　never　done　so。　That　he　could　not　harm　a　child　or　anything　helpless。　When　Carlo　had　refused　to　fight　back　against　him　that　day；　it　had　kept　Sonny　from　killing　him；　plete　submission　disarmed　his　violence。　As　a　boy；　he　had　been　truly　tenderhearted。　That　he　had　bee　a　murderer　as　a　man　was　simply　his　destiny。
　
　But　he　would　settle　this　thing　once　and　for　all；　Sonny　thought；　as　he　headed　the　Buick　toward　the　causeway　that　would　take　him　over　the　water　from　Long　Beach　to　the　parkways　on　the　other　side　of　Jones　Beach。　He　always　used　this　route　when　he　went　to　New　York。　There　was　less　traffic。
　
　He　decided　he　would　send　Connie　home　with　the　bodyguards　and　then　he　would　have　a　session　with　his　brotherin…law。　What　would　happen　after　that　he　didn't　know。　If　the　bastard　had　really　hurt　Connie；　he'd　make　a　cripple　out　of　the　bastard。　But　the　wind　ing　over　the　causeway；　the　salty　freshness　of　the　air；　cooled　his　anger。　He　put　the　window　down　all　the　way。
　
　He　had　taken　the　Jones　Beach　Causeway；　as　always；　because　it　was　usually　deserted　this　time　of　night；　at　this　time　of　year；　and　he　could　speed　recklessly　until　he　hit　the　parkways　on　the　other　side。　And　even　there　traffic　would　be　light。　The　release　of　driving　very　fast　would　help　dissipate　what　he　knew　was　a　dangerous　tension。　He　had　already　left　his　bodyguards　car　far　behind。
　
　The　causeway　was　badly　lit；　there　was　not　a　single　car。　Far　ahead　he　saw　the　white　cone　of　the　manned　tollbooth。
　
　There　were　other　tollbooths　beside　it　but　they　were　staffed　only　during　the　day；　for　heavier　traffic。　Sonny　started　braking　the　Buick　and　at　the　same　time　searched　his　pockets　for　change。　He　had　none。　He　reached　for　his　wallet；　flipped　it　open　with　one　hand　and　fingered　out　a　bill。　He　came　within　the　arcade　of　light　and　he　saw　to　his　mild　surprise　a　car　in　the　tollbooth　slot　blocking　it；　the　driver　obviously　asking　some　sort　of　directions　from　the　toll　taker。　Sonny　honked　his　horn　and　the　other　car　obediently　rolled　through　to　let　his　car　slide　into　the　slot。
　
　Sonny　handed　the　toll　taker　the　dollar　bill　and　waited　for　his　change。　He　was　in　a　hurry　now　to　close　the　window。　The　Atlantic　Ocean　air　had　chilled　the　whole　car。　But　the　toll　taker　was　fumbling　with　his　change；　the　dumb　son　of　a　bitch　actually　dropped　it。　Head　and　body　disappeared　as　the　toll　man　stooped　down　in　his　booth　to　pick　up　the　money。
　
　At　that　moment　Sonny　noticed　that　the　other　car　had　not　kept　going　but　had　parked　a　few　feet　ahead；　still　blocking　his　way。　At　that　same　moment　his　lateral　vision　caught　sight　of　another　man　in　the　darkened　tollbooth　to　his　right。　But　he　did　not　have　time　to　think　about　that　because　two　men　came　out　of　the　car　parked　in　front　and　walked　toward　him。　The　toll　collector　still　had　not　appeared。　And　then　in　the　fraction　of　a　second　before　anything　actually　happened；　Santino　Corleone　knew　he　was　a　dead　man。　And　in　that　moment　his　mind　was　lucid；　drained　of　all　violence；　as　if　the　hidden　fear　finally　real　and　present　had　purified　him。
　
　Even　so；　his　huge　body　in　a　reflex　for　life　crashed　against　the　Buick　door；　bursting　its　lock。　The　man　in　the　darkened　tollbooth　opened　fire　and　the　shots　caught　Sonny　Corleone　in　the　head　and　neck　as　his　massive　frame　spilled　out　of　the　car。　The　two　men　in　front　held　up　their　guns　now；　the　man　in　the　darkened　tollbooth　cut　his　fire；　and　Sonny's　body　sprawled　on　the　asphalt　with　the　legs　still　partly　inside。　The　two　men　each　fired　shots　into　Sonny's　body；　then　kicked　him　in　the　face　to　disfigure　his　features　even　more；　to　show　a　mark　made　by　a　more　personal　human　power。
　
　Seconds　afterward；　all　four　men；　the　three　actual　assassins　and　the　bogus　toll　collector；　were　in　their　car　and　speeding　toward　the　Meadowbrook　Parkway　on　the　other　side　of　Jones　Beach。　Their　pursuit　was　blocked　by　Sonny's　car　and　body　in　the　tollgate　slot　but　when　Sonny's　bodyguards　pulled　up　a　few　minutes　later　and　saw　his　body　lying　there；　they　had　no　intention　to　pursue。　They　swung　their　car　around　in　a　huge　arc　and　returned　to　Long　Beach。　At　the　first　public　phone　off　the　causeway　one　of　them　hopped　out　and　called　Tom　Hagen。　He　was　very　curt　and　very　brisk。　〃Sonny's　dead；　they　got　him　at　the　Jones　Beach　toll。〃
　
　Hagen's　voice　was　perfectly　calm。　〃OK；〃　he　said。　〃Go　to　Clemenza's　house　and　tell　him　to　e　here　right　away。　He'll　tell　you　what　to　do。〃
　
　Hagen　had　taken　the　call　in　the　kitchen；　with　Mama　Corleone　bustling　around　preparing　a　snack　for　the　arrival　of　her　daughter。　He　had　kept　his　posure　and　the　old　woman　had　not　noticed　anything　amiss。　Not　that　she　could　not　have；　if　she　wanted　to；　but　in　her　life　with　the　Don　she　had　learned　it　was　far　wiser　not　to　perceive。　That　if　it　was　necessary　to　know　something　painful；　it　would　be　told　to　her　soon　enough。　And　if　it　was　a　pain　that　could　be　spared　her；　she　could　do　without。　She　was　quite　content　not　to　share　the　pain　of　her　men；　after　all　did　they　share　the　pain　of　women？　Impassively　she　boiled　her　coffee　and　set　the　table　with　food。　In　her　experience　pain　and　fear　did　not　dull　physical　hunger；　in　her　experience　the　taking　of　food　dulled　pain。　She　would　have　been　outraged　if　a　doctor　had　tried　to　sedate　her　with　a　drug；　but　coffee　and　a　crust　of　bread　we