Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

something should happen to me my heirs would know that you hold something in trust

for them. But I know that even if I were not here in this world to guard the interests of my

children, you would be faithful to their needs."

The president of the bank, though not Sicilian, was a man of tender sensibilities. He

understood the Don perfectly. Now the Godfather's request was the president's

command and so on a Saturday afternoon, the executive suite of the bank, the

conference room with its deep leather chairs, its absolute privacy, was made available

to the Families.

Security at the bank was taken over by a small army of handpicked (выбранный,

подобранный; отборный) men wearing bank guard uniforms. At ten o'clock on a

Saturday morning the conference room began to fill up. Besides the Five Families of

New York, there were representatives from ten other Families across the country, with

the exception of Chicago, that black sheep of their world. They had given up trying to

civilize Chicago, and they saw no point in including those mad dogs in this important

conference.

A bar had been set up and a small buffet. Each representative to the conference had

been allowed one aide (помощник, адъютант [eıd]). Most of the Dons had brought their

Consiglioris as aides so there were comparatively few young men in the room. Tom

Hagen was one of those young men and the only one who was not Sicilian. He was an

object of curiosity, a freak (каприз, причуда; уродец; человек или явление,

выходящее за рамки обычного).

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Hagen knew his manners. He did not speak, he did not smile. He waited on his boss,

Don Corleone, with all the respect of a favorite earl (граф /английский/ [∂:l]) waiting on

his king; bringing him a cold drink, lighting his cigar, positioning his ashtray; with respect

but no obsequiousness (подобострастие; obsequious [∂b’si:kwı∂s] –

подобострастный).

Hagen was the only one in that room who knew the identity of the portraits hanging on

the dark paneled walls. They were mostly portraits of fabulous financial figures done in

rich oils. One was of Secretary of the Treasury Hamilton. Hagen could not help thinking

that Hamilton might have approved of this peace meeting being held in a banking

institution. Nothing was more calming, more conducive to pure reason, than the

atmosphere of money.

The arrival time had been staggered (to stagger – шататься, колебаться;

регулировать часы работы) for between nine-thirty to ten A.M. Don Corleone, in a

sense the host since he had initiated the peace talks, had been the first to arrive; one of

his many virtues was punctuality. The next to arrive was Carlo Tramonti, who had made

the southern part of the United States his territory. He was an impressively handsome

middle-aged man, tall for a Sicilian, with a very deep sunburn, exquisitely tailored and

barbered. He did not look Italian, he looked more like one of those pictures in the

magazines of millionaire fishermen lolling (to loll – сидеть развалясь; стоять

/облокотясь/ в ленивой позе) on their yachts. The Tramonti Family earned its

livelihood from gambling, and no one meeting their Don would ever guess with what

ferocity he had won his empire.

Emigrating from Sicily as a small boy, he had settled in Florida and grown to manhood

there, employed by the American syndicate of Southern small-town politicians who

controlled gambling. These were very tough men backed up by very tough police

officials and they never suspected that they could be overthrown by such a greenhorn

(новичок, неопытный человек) immigrant. They were unprepared for his ferocity and

could not match it simply because the rewards being fought over were not, to their

minds, worth so much bloodshed. Tramonti won over the police with bigger shares of

the gross (общая масса [gr∂us]); he exterminated those redneck (неотесанный

человек, деревенщина) hooligans who ran their operation with such a complete lack of

imagination. It was Tramonti who opened ties with Cuba and the Batista regime and

eventually poured money into the pleasure resorts of Havana gambling houses,

whorehouses, to lure (завлекать, заманивать [lu∂]) gamblers from the American

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mainland. Tramonti was now a millionaire many times over and owned one of the most

luxurious hotels in Miami Beach.

When he came into the conference room followed by his aide, an equally sunburned

Consigliori, Tramonti embraced Don Corleone, made a face of sympathy to show he

sorrowed for the dead son.

Other Dons were arriving. They all knew each other, they had met over the years,

either socially or when in the pursuit of their businesses. They had always showed each

other professional courtesies and in their younger, leaner (lean – тощий, худой) days

had done each other little services. The second Don to arrive was Joseph Zaluchi from

Detroit. The Zaluchi Family, under appropriate disguises and covers, owned one of the

horse-racing tracks in the Detroit area. They also owned a good part of the gambling.