[INT. MICHAEL-KAY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT]
[The room is lit from a small night lamp on Michael's side of the large bed. Kay is huddled in blankets, asleep. Michael closes the door to his room, moves to his side of the bed, and glances down to the pillow.]
[VIEW ON THE PILLOW]
[Is a child's drawing of a long limousine, with a man in a
hat sitting in the back seat.]
[An arrow pointing to him is marked "DAD." Under it, a nine year old's handwriting says: "Do you like it? Check YES __ I liked it or NO __ I didn't like it." Michael turns, looking for a pencil, and moves to the dresser, where he places a check next to "YES."]
[He starts to cross back toward his side of the bed, when Kay
turns, almost in her sleep:]
KAY: Michael? Why are the drapes open?
[His eyes dart back to the curved, beautifully leaded windows of the room. The DRAPES are opened. Then, without a second's hesitation, he leaps to the floor, still holding his son's drawing, as a spray of machine gun bullets sweep across the windows; glass shattering all over the room.]
[Kay screams out; rising, still half-asleep. Michael crawls toward her, and pulls her down to the floor to him. Then, for a moment, there is silence, soon filled by the shouts of men; as flashes of light sweep by the window, as guards with flashlights come running.]
[Michael holds Kay to him, knowing they have both survived,
and then gently:]
MICHAEL: Go with the kids.
[EXT. THE TAHOE ESTATE - NIGHT]
[Suddenly, the great floodlights are turned on, bathing lawns in an intense blue light. Groups of ordinarily dressed security men drawn in from all directions; a state of confusion prevails. There is no sign of the attackers.]
[VIEW BY MICHAEL'S HOUSE]
[Michael is joined by Rocco Lampone, his gun drawn.]
ROCCO: They're still on the property. Maybe you better stay inside.
MICHAEL: Keep them alive.
[Six men take up posts by Michael's house.]
ROCCO: We'll try.
MICHAEL: It's important.
[He returns inside.]
[EXT. MAIN GATE AND KENNELS - NIGHT]
[The character of the summer estate has changed: bright floodlights illuminate the main points of entry: the main gate; the waterway; the stone wall that encompasses the estate on all sides. Several men with flashlights reinforce the guard at the main gate.]
[FULL VIEW]
[Off in the distance, we see another group of men with flashlights combing the waterline. We hear indistinguishable shouts.]
[VIEW ON THE KENNELS]
[The wire gates are opened, and the trained dogs go out yelping into the outer edge of the estate.]
[ROOFTOP]
[One of Rocco's men turns the large floodlight scanning darkened forest areas, where men could hide.]
[MOVING VIEW]
[Men with flashlights and dogs. Moving through the dark areas.]
[LOOSE VIEW]
[A small Corleone launch, with a bright spotlight slowly cruises the boundaries of the estate. We SEE the silhouette of men with guns, quietly waiting and watching.]
[EXT. MICHAEL'S HOUSE - NIGHT]
[Some of the bodyguards by the shattered windows of Michael's bedroom. The curtains are drawn from inside.]
[INT. MICHAEL'S HOUSE - NIGHT]
[Kay, the children, and some women servants have come down from the various rooms into the central living area, that can be most easily secured. The little girl is still asleep; they make you think of an immigrant family, with their blankets and frightened faces, all waiting in a central room.]
[Michael goes up to Kay, squeezes her hand, and whispers:]
MICHAEL: It will be all right. We were lucky.
[She says nothing; but her face expresses the anger she feels over the jeopardy Michael has placed his children in. She holds her young daughter in her arms.]
[The door opens, and Rocco enters. He quickly realizes he is holding his gun in plain view in front of the family, and puts it away. Michael moves to him, and they talk a distance away from Kay.]
ROCCO: Your family all seem to be okay in the other houses; your Mother's still sleeping.
MICHAEL: And?
ROCCO: No sign of them yet; but they're still on the Estate.
[We HEAR loud shouting from outside.]
DEANNA *O.S.*: Goddamn you! You're all nuts here, I'm not goin' to calm down...
[MICHAEL'S VIEW]
[Through the door, that Rocco opens. Deanna, in her nightgown, has been frightened by the gunshots; while Fredo in his bathrobe, tries to get her back into the house.]
FREDO: Deanna, will you get back into the house!
DEANNA: I'm getting out of here I said; these guys all have guns!
MICHAEL: Fredo, can't you shut that woman up! *to Rocco's men* Get her in here!
[The bodyguards, gracefully help Fredo bring the hysterical Deanna into the safety of the house.]
DEANNA *whimpering*: I don't want to stay here...
FREDO: Mike, what can I do, she's a hysterical woman...
KAY: Leave her alone! You're talking as though she has no right to be frightened when there are machine guns going off in her backyard.
MICHAEL *to Rocco*: Have Tom Hagen meet me in the Harbor House.
[EXT. TAHOE ESTATE - HIGH ANGLE - NIGHT]
[Michael walks the short distance from his house, to the boathouse where he conducts his business away from his family. A small group of bodyguards, carrying machine guns, make the walk with him from all sides, a respectful distance away. It gives the appearance of a lonely President moving in his compound, followed by teams of Secret Service men.]
[The boathouse is already secured by teams of men, hastily wakened from their lodge house; a barracks-like structure where reinforcements are lodged just for this kind of emergency.]
[FULL VIEW]
[In the distance, we can see the teams of men and dogs, with their lights, guns and shouts, combing every inch of the estate.]
[INT. THE BOATHOUSE - EMPTY VIEW - NIGHT]
[Michael alone in the great room. He moves to a walk-in safe, quickly runs through the combination, and opens it. He takes out an envelope, and puts it into his pocket; there's a KNOCK on the door, and Hagen enters. He had been asleep, and has quickly thrown on a robe.]
MICHAEL: Sit down, Tom.
[EXT. TAHOE BOATHOUSE - NIGHT]
[From outside the leaded windows, a disoriented Hagen sits down; Michael starts to talk to him; obviously about something very serious. The patrol securing the boathouse, walk past the window. Michael says something to Tom, who rises, and pulls the drapes, obscuring OUR VIEW.]
[INT. TAHOE BOATHOUSE - NIGHT]
[Michael talks intimately to Tom.]
MICHAEL: There's a lot I can't tell you, Tom. I know that's upset you in the past; and you've felt that it was because of some lack of trust or confidence. But it is because I do trust you that I've kept so much secret from you. It's precisely that at this moment, you are the only one that I can completely trust. In time, you'll understand everything.
HAGEN *nods with this statement*: But your people... Neri... Rocco; you don't think...
MICHAEL: No, I have confidence in their loyalty... but this is life and death, and Tom, you are my brother.
[Hagen is very moved.]
HAGEN: Mikey, I hoped...
MICHAEL: No Tom, just listen. All my people are businessmen; their loyalty is based on that. One thing I learned from my father is to try to think as the people around you think...and on that basis, anything is possible. Fredo has a good heart, but he is weak...and stupid, and stupid people are the most dangerous of all. I've kept you out of things, Tom, because I've always known that your instincts were legitimate, and I wanted you to know very little of things that would make you an accomplice, for your own protection. I never blamed you for the setbacks the family took under Sonny; I know you were in a position of limited power, and you did your best to advise and caution him. What I am saying is that now, for how long I do not know, you will be the Don. If what I think has happened is true; I will leave tonight, and absolutely no one will know how to contact me. And even you are not to try to reach me unless it is absolutely necessary. I give you complete power: over Neri... Fredo, everyone. I am trusting you with the lives of my wife and children, and the future of this family, solely resting on your judgment and talent.
[VIEW ON HAGEN]
[A man who has steadily declined over the last five years, realizing that total power and responsibility is being placed on him.]
MICHAEL *continuing*: ...But Tom, you must know that I do this only because I believe you are the only one who is capable of taking over for me.
[VIEW ON MICHAEL]
[Taking out the envelope.]
MICHAEL: I've prepared this; have had it for over a month. It won't explain everything; but indicates where I will be, so in a sense, it is my life. *he hands the envelope to Hagen* Also, there are three tasks that must be executed immediately. Pop would have given those to Luca -- You knew Pop as well as anyone, act as though you were him. It discusses Kay as well; that will be the most difficult. The men who tried to kill me tonight, will never leave the estate.
HAGEN: Will we...be able to get who ordered it out of them?
MICHAEL: I don't think so. Unless I'm very wrong...they're already dead. Killed by someone inside...very frightened that they botched it. That's why I am going to disappear in a few minutes, and leave everything to you.
HAGEN: But if you're wrong...
MICHAEL: If I'm wrong...
[There is a KNOCK on the door.]
MICHAEL: ...I don't think I'm wrong. *he indicates the knock* Yes.
[The door opens; it is Rocco; Michael rises, after making a
knowing glance toward Tom, and moves to talk quietly to a
frightened and agitated Rocco.]
[EXT. STONE WALL AND STREAM - MOVING VIEW - NIGHT]
[A group of men with flashlights and guns lead Michael, Tom
and Rocco to the stone bridge spanning the stream which runs
through the estate.]
[LOW CLOSE VIEW]
[Michael's dispassionate face, looking down. THE VIEW MOVES to Hagen's, and then down to the murky water under the bridge, where we see the bodies of three strangers, lying in the moving water; machine-type guns nearby, with their throats cut. Light from the many flashlights illuminates the grotesque scene.]
MICHAEL *O.S.*: Fish them out.
[Several of the men wade down into the stream; Rocco helps, and even Tom steps down to get a better look at who they were. They are total strangers; Rocco examines the type of guns they used. When they climb back onto the ground, Michael is gone. Everyone notices it, but no one says anything.]
[Hagen stands there, holding the envelope Michael had given him in his hand. He realizes that now, he is the DON.]
HAGEN: Get rid of the bodies. Tomorrow morning I want a report made to the local police, and paper, that some explosives we keep on the property were accidentally ignited.
[The men respond; Hagen makes the lonely walk back to the lighted section of the compound, which now resembles a prison camp.]
[INT. STATE SENATE FLOOR - DAY]
[The Senate is in session; Senator Geary is on the floor
during a vote. An aide approaches him, with a slip of paper.]
[INT. GEARY'S OFFICE - DAY]
[The Senator steps behind his desk.]
SENATOR GEARY: All right, Mr. Hagen, you've got ten minutes.
[He flicks the switch of a small tape recorder.]
SENATOR GEARY: ...and the tape will be running.
HAGEN: Actually, I've come with good news; the Corleone family has done you a favor.
[The Senator immediately shuts the tape recorder off.]
SENATOR GEARY: What the hell are you talking about?
HAGEN: We know you're a busy man, with plenty of enemies -- we saw the opportunity to do you a favor, and we did. No strings.
SENATOR GEARY: No strings.
HAGEN: You know there's a Senate Investigating Committee recently set up; we thought it would be unfortunate if they were to trace anything thought-provoking to your name.
SENATOR GEARY: No one can trace anything to me; I pride myself on that.
HAGEN: Do you gamble?
SENATOR GEARY: A little; what's so thought-provoking about that?
HAGEN: Do you owe markers?
SENATOR GEARY: Maybe two, three thousand dollars.
[Hagen leans forward, and deposits a handful of paper on the Senator's desk.]
HAGEN: The Corleone family has paid them off for you...as an expression of our esteem.
Geary quickly looks through the paid markers.
SENATOR GEARY: There's thirty grand worth of paid off markers -- I never owed that much.
HAGEN: Our mistake. But what does it matter; it was our money. *rising* We don't even expect thanks.
SENATOR GEARY: You paid off thirty grand I never owed.
HAGEN: We'll keep it quiet; the people who know are trustworthy...the Committee needn't find out.
SENATOR GEARY: And what's the price of their not finding out.
HAGEN: Simple. Be friendly like us. Not hostile.
SENATOR GEARY *he despises Hagen*: Thanks...friend.
[EXT. TAHOE ESTATE - FULL VIEW - DAY]
[There are more men on duty than usual; not that there are
guns apparent, but it's clear that the boundaries are being
patrolled.]
[VIEW BY MICHAEL'S HOUSE]
[Kay exits her house, followed by her children; she helps them into her station wagon like any housewife, and drives along the path leading to the main gate. She's about to drive through, when one of the men steps in front of her, raising his hand.]
KAY *graciously*: Yes.
MAN: I'm sorry, Mrs. Corleone. We're not to let you through.
KAY *disbelieving*: I'm going to the market.
MAN: If you could just give us a list, we'll pick up anything you want.
KAY: Whose orders are these?
MAN: Mr. Hagen's, ma'am.
[We notice Hagen walking to them in the background.]
HAGEN: Kay.
[VIEW THROUGH THE GATE]
[Hagen approaches the car; Kay gets out so they can talk away
from the children.]
HAGEN: I wanted to explain this myself... I had business in Carson City.
[He walks with her a little way from the others; the children
run out of the station wagon, and start to play.]
HAGEN: It's Michael's request...for your safety. We can send out for anything you need.
KAY: I'm supposed to stay in my house.
HAGEN: Within the compound will be fine.
KAY: I was supposed to take the children to New England next week.
HAGEN: That's off now.
KAY: I'm going to see my parents.
HAGEN: Kay, Michael didn't tell me a lot; and what he did tell me, I can't repeat. But the responsibility for you and the kids was the most important thing he left me with.
KAY: How long does this go on?
HAGEN: I don't know. *pause* I'm sorry, Kay...
KAY: Am I a prisoner?
HAGEN: That's not the way we look at it.
[Angrily, without another word, Kay turns away from him, and
walks to her children, ignoring the running station wagon.]
[EXT. ITALIAN LUXURY LINER - DAY]
[The luxury liner making its way across the Atlantic.]
[INT. ITALIAN LUXURY LINER - MED. VIEW - DAY]
[The PURSER followed by several white uniformed associates
knocks on the door of something designated the "Leonardo
Suite." He is holding a telegram.]
[The door opens, and a tanned Merle peeks out of the door.]
PURSER *holding up the telegram* I'm terribly sorry to disturb you but we have received two telegrams.
MERLE *reluctantly*: Well...come in.
[This entourage enters the suite, an impressive and
beautifully spacious luxury suite. Connie is relaxing.]
CONNIE: What is it?
PURSER: Yes. One is from our office in New York. The check that you wrote for your passage has been returned.
CONNIE: Can't be...
MERLE: Why don't you wire your bank?
PURSER: The other telegram is from your bank. Your account has been closed and the company is warned not to extend any credit.
CONNIE: I'll take care of it in Naples.
PURSER: The company hopes so. But for now, we have orders to change your accommodations.
[And with that, the men in white begin to pack Connie and
Merle's luggage.]
CONNIE: That son of a bitch!
[INT. ITALIAN LUXURY LINER - TINY THIRD CLASS CABIN - NIGHT]
[Connie and Merle are attempting to sleep in the miniature cabin in bunk beds. The little space is crowded with their trunks and luggage. Merle can barely hang onto the bunk, the boat pitches so violently below.]
[EXT. TRAIN TRACKS - MED. VIEW - DAY]
[A train speeds across the countryside.]
[INT. THE TRAIN - DAY]
[Inside the corridor, a porter advances, and knocks on the door of a stateroom. A voice tells him to enter. OUR VIEW enters with him as he carries a tray of lunch. From this POV we see Michael Corleone sitting in the compartment.]
PORTER: Mr. Paul?
MICHAEL: Yes.
PORTER: You ordered lunch?
MICHAEL: Put it right there.
[The porter does so; as he places the tray down, he catches a glimpse of a second person in the compartment with Michael.]
[HIS VIEW]
[A very fierce, almost maniacal looking man, BUSSETTA. He nods that the porter should leave.]
MICHAEL: Thank you.
[The porter takes his advice and leaves quickly, closing the
door behind him.]
[VIEW THROUGH THE WINDOW]
[Michael and his mysterious companion have lunch together on
the moving train.]
[EXT. GULFSTREAM RACE TRACK IN MIAMI - HIGH FULL VIEW - DAY]
[The empty parking lot of the Gulfstream track, on an off-
race day.]
[CLOSER VIEW]
[Michael sits behind the wheel of a nondescript late model car. Bussetta sits in the rear. Another car swings into the lot. Michael starts his car, and pulls out of the lot; the second car following.]
[NEW VIEW]
[[This car pulls out and begins to follow them. Michael glances back by adjusting the rear view mirror, and nods to Bussetta. Michael's car begins to slow down, allowing the other car to overtake them. The overtaking car hesitates a moment, moving side by side with them. Michael glances toward the driver.]
[MICHAEL'S VIEW]
[We recognize Johnny Ola, who waves a greeting to Michael,
and then continues on to lead him.]
[EXT. SUBURBAN MIAMI NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY]
[Ola's car leads Michael's through a middle-class suburban area of $30,000 to $40,000 homes. There are small channels with sporting and fishing boats parked near the houses. Ola's car pulls up in front of a very simple, tract-type home. Michael's car parks nearby.]
MICHAEL *Sicilian*: *to Bussetta* You'll wait in the car.
[Ola has gotten out of his car and walks up the little path to the front door. Michael waits.]
[Ola rings the bell, and after a moment, a rather pretty, middle-aged WOMAN answers, remaining behind the screen door. Ola says a few things to her and she disappears, leaving the door open.]
[Ola comes down the steps, looks at Michael, nodding to him. Ola then gets into his car and drives off. Michael walks up the walkway and enters the little house, closing the door behind him.]
[This woman, TERRI ROTH, is in the kitchen, looking out at Michael.]
TERRI: I'm just going to make lunch. How about a tuna fish sandwich?
MICHAEL: Thank you, Mrs. Roth.
[She hurries halfway up the staircase.]
TERRI: Hyman...HYMAN, your friend is here. *turning to Michael* Why don't you go right upstairs, Mr. Paul?
MICHAEL: Fine.
[He continues upstairs; she goes into the kitchen.]
TERRI: I'll give a yell when lunch is ready.
[Michael continues up to a small den on the second floor; we can HEAR the sound of a baseball game coming over the television.]
[INT. HYMAN ROTH'S DEN - DAY]
[Michael enters the den: it's very comfortable, but somewhat like a senior citizen's retirement home in Florida.]
[MICHAEL'S VIEW]
[There, sitting before the television is a small man in his middle sixties, thin, with a wizened face, looking like a small-time retired Jewish businessman. This is HYMAN ROTH.]
ROTH: Sit down, this is almost over. You follow the baseball games?
MICHAEL: Not for a few years.
ROTH: I like sporting events -- I really enjoy watching them in the afternoon. One of the things I love about this country. I loved baseball ever since Arnold Rothstein fixed the World Series of 1919...I heard you had some trouble.
MICHAEL: Yes.
ROTH: What a mistake; people behaving like that, with guns. *he shakes his head* It was my understanding we left all that behind. But, let me tell you, the important thing is that you're all right. Good health is the most important thing; more than success; more than power; more than money.
MICHAEL: The incident of the other night is a nuisance that I can take care of. I came to you because I want nothing to affect our agreement; I wanted to clear everything I'm going to do with you, just in case.
ROTH: You're a considerate young man.
MICHAEL: You're a great man, Mr. Roth, I have much to learn from you.
ROTH *warmly*: However I can help you...
MICHAEL: The Rosato Brothers have performed services for you in the past; I understand that they are under your protection.
ROTH *simply*: We do favors for each other...
MICHAEL: Technically, they are still under the Clemenza wing of the Corleone Family, now run by Frankie Pentangeli. After Clemenza died, the Rosatos wanted territory of their own. Pentangeli refused, and came to me, asking for permission to eliminate them. I, of course, knew of their relationship with you, and in gratitude for your help with the Tropicana matter, turned him down. Pentangeli was furious, and paid one hundred and fifty thousand dollars to have me killed. I was lucky and he was stupid. I'll visit him soon. *leaning toward the old man, sincerely* The important thing is that nothing jeopardize our plans, yours and mine. This thing of ours, that we will build.
[The old man touches Michael's hand, warmly.]
ROTH: Nothing is more important.
MICHAEL *quietly*: Pentangeli is a dead man; do you object?
ROTH: It's always bad for business; but you have no choice.
MICHAEL: Then it's done. I must choose his replacement: it cannot be Rosato.
ROTH: Of course you must keep control of your family.
[He turns to Michael, turning the volume higher on the
television, and moving closer to his young partner.]
ROTH: Michael, these things are unimportant. Who should be the manager of a dime store, Joe or Jack? Unimportant. You do what you think is right. You're a young man, and I'm old and sick. What we do together in the next few months will be history, Michael; it has never been done before. We will do this historical thing together, and even your Father could never dream it would be possible. We are bigger than U.S. Steel, you and me... because in America, anything is possible! *pause* But soon I will be dead, and it will all belong to you.
[There is a KNOCK on the door, and Terri Roth pushes the door
open with her hip.]
TERRI: My goodness, you'll rupture your eardrums, Hyman.
[She puts the tray down, and turns down the television.]
[EXT. ROTH'S HOUSE - MED. VIEW - DAY]
[The sinister Bussetta waits patiently in the rear seat of
the car, outside Roth's modest house.]
[EXT. DOWNTOWN NEW YORK - MOVING VIEW - DAY]
[A black Cadillac moves down the street, slowed by the Festivities of the Festa that is in progress: people milling around, buying souvenirs at the many stands set up.]
[Sausage and grilled meats are prepared, just as they were years ago. Electric lights are strung from the street lamps, and brightly colored banners pronounce the "Festa of the Madonna."]
[MOVING CLOSE VIEW]
[Willy Cicci drives, frustrated that he cannot go any faster. Next to him, Frankie Pentangeli sits, catching a few seconds' snooze.]
[MED. VIEW]
[The black car pulls up; another car that had been following it parks nearby.]
[One of Pentangeli's button men gets out of the car, and steps into a small Italian restaurant; he exits quickly, and nods affirmatively toward Pentangeli's Cadillac.]
[The group of them step out quickly, men huddled around Pentangeli, and enter the restaurant.]
[INT. THE RESTAURANT - DAY]
[The restaurant is quite empty, despite the excitement out on the street. Pentangeli immediately sits at a table with a tall, dark, snappily dressed young man, CARMINE ROSATO. Nearby, on the other side of the room is Rosato's brother, TONY, seated with a group of their men. At another table in the restaurant is a table of Pentangeli's people: they are joined by bodyguards.
PENTANGELI: Rosato, where's your brother?
ROSATO: Sitting right behind you.
[Pentangeli glances behind himself.]
PENTANGELI: He don't want to talk?
ROSATO: We worked it all out beforehand.
PENTANGELI: Are we going to eat or what?
ROSATO: Sure, on me. I got Diner's Club.
PENTANGELI *sarcastically*: Forget it; I'm suddenly without an appetite. You're making big trouble, Carmine.
ROSATO: You weren't straight with us, Frankie, what else could we do?
PENTANGELI: We could have talked first, saved a lot of running around.
ROSATO: You wasn't listening, you didn't want to talk.
PENTANGELI: Don't I look like I'm listening?
ROSATO: We want Brooklyn one hundred percent. No more taxes to you. We want to be only loosely connected with your family -- sort of a under-family all of our own. Then we can act on all internal matters without talking. Also we want you to inform Michael Corleone that we can deal directly with him.
PENTANGELI: I'm a little hungry, maybe I'll order something. Joe. *one of his men* Get me some bracciole or something. And pay cash. *to Rosato* And in return for these concessions, what do you do for me?
ROSATO: We will release the hostages, number one. Number two, we're here for you to count on when you need us. We're independent, but we're here if you need us. In general, we'll cooperate with you and your businesses, and you in turn will cooperate with us. Pari persu.
PENTANGELI: Pari Persu; what the fuck is Pari persu...?
ROSATO: My lawyer went over this beforehand.
PENTANGELI: What assurances do I have that there will be no more kidnapping, no more hits?
ROSATO: The same assurance we got from you.
PENTANGELI: What if I say shove it?
ROSATO: Then Carmine Fucillo and Tony Blue DeRosa will need to be fitted for slabs.
PENTANGELI: You want a war?
ROSATO: We got no choice.
PENTANGELI: You know if there's a way I'll go to the commission and the commission will side with me. That puts me and the other New York families against you.
ROSATO: We got friends in the commission.
PENTANGELI *getting angry*: I'm talking about Italians!
ROSATO: What about Michael Corleone?
PENTANGELI: He supports me.
ROSATO: Maybe, yes... maybe no.
[One of Pentangeli's men approaches with a plate of Italian
food.]
[Pentangeli stands up, angered by this remark of Rosato's; he pushes the dish of food out of the surprised Bodyguard's hands.]
PENTANGELI: You drove old Pete Clemenza to his grave, Carmine; you and your brother. Turning on him; trouble in his territories -- you and your demands. I hold you responsible, just as though you shot him in the head. And I ain't gonna let that go for long!
[Pentangeli walks out of the restaurant; there's a little
tension between the bodyguards of the two factions.]
ROSATO *O.S.*: Hey, Five-Angels...
[He gives him the arm. Frankie's face turns red, like he wants to have it out here and now; but Willy Cicci calms his down, and they all make their move out.]
[EXT. THE RESTAURANT - DAY]
[Pentangeli gets into the car.]
PENTANGELI: Nobody I hate calls me Five-Angels to my face!
[He slams the door.]
