Balance of Power, 30

How was it that in just a matter of minutes Sabrina found herself freshly off one plane and onto another? She kept her gaze focused on a shiny silver plaque just beside the emergency exit. Sabrina knew that if she didn't, she would unleash a scathing tirade about Michael Corleone and his willing henchman Thomas Hagen. Instead, Sabrina mentally reviewed every lesson she had ever learned from Cassandra DuMonde or Roberto Texador. Two in particular kept playing in her mind.

Cassandra DuMonde lived by a credo of detachment. Cassandra moved from man to man and the only injured feelings, she claimed, belonged to the empty shells that once were the men she drained dry. She constantly reminded her young daughter that there was nothing but heartache to be gained from emotional involvement. Her cardinal rule was ‘ never allow them to make you feel .'

Thankfully Roberto ‘Bobby' Texador came along with a credo that was a bit more realistic. Upon first hearing Sabrina dutifully recite her mother's most important lesson, Bobby shook his head in amused pity and then proceeded to give the teenaged girl her first true lesson of ‘the street'. “All your life your old lady has taught you never to let the other guy get under your skin. Well, sometimes,” Bobby insisted, “it ain't that easy. Even the toughest guy on earth loses his cool. What you got to do is make sure that when it happens, you don't let ‘em see it.”

Well, Michael Corleone and his henchman had gotten underneath her skin. Now Sabrina had to concentrate on making sure they didn't get satisfaction of watching her anger. There was no point in stewing angrily over the way things had gone down. Michael Corleone and company had succeeded in maneuvering Sabrina into a trip to Italy. The ball was now in her court.

Sabrina nearly smiled. It was time for her to regroup and begin making some plans of her own. She hadn't lived a lifetime on her own terms just to turn around and meekly surrender control of her life to Michael Corleone and his family.

Her gaze shifted across the plane's cabin to Tom Hagen. The powerful Corleone family lawyer stared impassively back at her. His face was devoid of expression and his eyes were unreadable. Sabrina fancifully compared his eyes to the deeply tinted car windows of a drug dealer's Cadillac – looking out was easy, looking in was impossible.

Sabrina arranged her beautiful features into a credible imitation of Tom Hagen's stoic expression. From that moment on she would fight fire with fire. Instinctively she sensed that the consequences of losing her fight for independence from the Corleone family would be far too dear a price to pay.

Balance of Power, 31

“Is he ready for this?”

Tom Hagen glanced up from his paperwork but did not respond. He took a few moments more to complete the passage of legal correspondence he was in the middle of drafting.

His companion was not disturbed by Tom's lack of response. He waited stoically while the other man wrote with unhurried, deliberate strokes of his old-fashioned fountain pen.

Santino Corleone rose and ambled to the bar along the far wall of the room. He grabbed a couple of shot glasses and poured two fingers of scotch for himself and another for Tom. To Tom's glass he added two cubes of ice. “Hmpf,” he grunted as he placed the glass of scotch just out of harm's way on the low table Tom used for a temporary desktop. After about five minutes or so, Tom put down the pen and reached for the shot glass.

“Is he ready?” the lawyer repeated. He unbuttoned his vest and settled back into the sofa cushions. He seemed to consider the query with great thought. “Yes,” Tom Hagen finally decided. “You know Mike. He's thought this all through.”

“You can't think a thing like this through,” Santino Corleone remarked. “There's too many unknowns.” He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “But I sure am looking forward to Mikey dealing with it all.”

There weren't too many things in life that genuinely amused Sonny. “Why is that?” Tom inquired of his surrogate brother.

Sonny shrugged. “Cause it's been awhile since anybody's said the word ‘no' to Mikey.”

The corner of Tom's mouth finally quirked into a smile. "Well..." he hedged, "she doesn't really understand, does she?"

Sonny leaned toward Tom and smiled. It was an angelic expression that, ironically, made Sonny's rugged face seem open and innocent. “Probably not.  She'll learn though."  He rose to pour himself another drink.  "What matters right now is that she doesn't care.  She don't care what you can make happen. And she don't care what I can make go away.” His grin grew wide. “And she sure as hell don't care that just hearing Mike's name can make grown men piss themselves. So yeah,” Sonny repeated with amusement, “I am looking forward to this.”

As the big jet sped quietly toward Italy carrying the newest addition to the Corleone fold, that conversation with Santino was uppermost in Tom's mind. There inside the plush cabin, Tom wondered if Sonny's words would turn out to be more prophetic than he had imagined.

As though she sensed that she was the subject of his thoughts, Sabrina deliberately turned her face Tom's way and boldly engaged his gaze. Her message was clear.

Battle had been declared.

Balance of Power, 32

Vincent Mancini's emotions were definitely torn. On one hand, he felt nothing but admiration for his uncle's unorthodox display of power. Thrusting his half-black illegitimate daughter into the scrutiny of their world was unheard of. Only someone as supremely self-assured as Uncle Michael made such a move without fear of challenge or reprisal.

“What do you need?” The gruff voice of Santino Corleone broke Vincent's train of thought. Sonny was Vincent's father, but their relationship existed only as a commonly accepted statement among the family. Santino's younger brother Michael felt more like a father to Vincent.

“I heard that a plane from America was gonna be arriving this evening,” Vincent explained.

“So?”

“So,” Vincent explained, “I thought since I was with Uncle Michael when he went looking for her that I would come over and be here when she arrives.”

“You thought wrong. Go home.”

Vincent bitterly resented his father's abrupt dismissal. Sonny treated Vincent with no more regard than he would a stranger. “Uncle Michael-“

“Doesn't need your help,” Sonny repeated. “If he wants you, he'll send for you. He escorted Vincent to the front door. “Here's a piece of free advice for you,” his father offered. “Michael won't appreciate interference in this. So mind your own business. And you can tell Connie the same thing goes for her.”

Vincent considered Sonny's words as he slowly made his way through the enormous compound. It was, in fact, his aunt Connie who had alerted him of Sabrina's imminent arrival and urged Vincent to make his presence visible. He acknowledged that Connie had been his strongest supporter in his quest to eventually become Michael Corleone's successor. But Vincent also acknowledged that a lot of Connie's drive was motivated by anger and jealousy and her own personal ambitions.

Connie's ambitions were pointless. In their traditional Sicilian way of life, women had no place in business. And they certainly had no power. Someone with Connie's driven personality and lack of reservations was a dangerous thing indeed.

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