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metronome in his head that would never fail him. Just a little practice was all he needed.

Finally he stopped singing. Tina came over to him with eyes shining and gave him a

long kiss. "Now I know why Mother goes to all your movies," she said. It was the wrong

thing to say at any time except this. Johnny and Nino laughed.

They played the feedback and now Johnny could really listen to himself. His voice had

changed, changed a hell of a lot but was still unquestionably the voice of Johnny

Fontane. It had become much richer and darker as he had noticed before but there was

also the quality of a man singing rather than a boy. The voice had more true emotion,

more character. And the technical part of his singing was far superior to anything he had

ever done. It was nothing less than masterful. And if he was that good now, rusty as hell,

how good would he be when he got in shape again? Johnny grinned at Nino. "Is that as

good as I think it is?"

Nino looked at his happy face thoughtfully. "It's very damn good," he said. "But let's

see how you sing tomorrow."

Johnny was hurt that Nino should be so downbeat. "You son of a bitch, you know you

can't sing like that. Don't worry about tomorrow. I feel great." But he didn't sing any

more that night. He and Nino took the girls to a party and Tina spent the night in his bed

but he wasn't much good there. The girl was a little disappointed. But what the hell, you

couldn't do everything all in one day, Johnny thought.

He woke up in the morning with a sense of apprehension, with a vague terror that he

had dreamed his voice had come back. Then when he was sure it was not a dream he

got scared that his voice would be shot again. He went to the window and hummed a bit,

then he went down to the living room still in his pajamas. He picked out a tune on the

piano and after a while tried singing with it. He sang mutedly but there was no pain, no

hoarseness in his throat, so he turned it on. The chords were true and rich, he didn't

have to force it at all. Easy, easy, just pouring out. Johnny realized that the bad time

was over, he had it all now. And it didn't matter a damn if he fell on his face with movies,

it didn't matter if he couldn't get it up with Tina the night before, it didn't matter that

Virginia would hate him being able to sing again. For a moment he had just one regret.

If only his voice had come back to him while trying to sing for his daughters, how lovely

that would have been. That would have been so lovely.

The hotel nurse had come into the room wheeling a cart loaded with medication.

Johnny got up and stared down at Nino, who was sleeping or maybe dying. He knew

Nino wasn't jealous of his getting his voice back. He understood that Nino was only

jealous because he was so

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happy about getting his voice back. That he cared so much about singing. For what was

very obvious now was that Nino Valenti didn't care enough about anything to make him

want to stay alive.

Chapter 27

Michael Corleone arrived late in the evening and, by his own order, was not met at the

airport. Only two men accompanied him: Tom Hagen and a new bodyguard, named

Albert Neri.

The most lavish suite of rooms in the hotel had been set aside for Michael and his

party. Already waiting in that suite were the people it would be necessary for Michael to

see.

Freddie greeted his brother with a warm embrace. Freddie was much stouter, more

benevolent-looking, cheerful, and far more dandified. He wore an exquisitely tailored

gray silk and accessories to match. His hair was razor cut and arranged as carefully as

a movie star's, his face glowed with perfect barbering and his hands were manicured.

He was an altogether different man than the one who had been shipped out of New

York four years before.

He leaned back and surveyed Michael fondly. "You look a hell of a lot better now that

you got your face fixed. Your wife finally talked you into it, huh? How is Kay? When she

gonna come out and visit us out here?"

Michael smiled at his brother. "You're looking pretty good too. Kay would have come

out this time, but she's carrying another kid and she has the baby to look after. Besides

this is business, Freddie, I have to fly back tomorrow night or the morning after."

"You have to eat something first," Freddie said. "We've got a great chef in the hotel,

you'll get the best food you ever ate. Go take your shower and change and everything

will be set up right here. I have all the people you want to see lined up, they'll be waiting

around for when you're ready, I just have to call them."

Michael said pleasantly, "Let's save Moe Greene to the end, OK? Ask Johnny

Fontane and Nino up to eat with us. And Lucy and her doctor friend. We can talk while

we eat." He turned to Hagen. "Anybody you want to add to that, Tom?"

Hagen shook his head. Freddie had greeted him much less affectionately than

Michael, but Hagen understood. Freddie was on his father's shit list and Freddie

naturally blamed the Consigliori for not straightening things out. Hagen would gladly

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have done so, but he didn't know why Freddie was in his father's bad graces. The Don