Manhattan Reborn 1978

California.

city ​​of los angeles.

The night is dark.

Francis Coppola, the director of the movie "The Godfather", and Mario Puzo, the original author of the novel and screenwriter of the movie, were sitting in the departure lounge of Los Angeles International Airport, waiting for the announcement of boarding.

. . .

This afternoon.

In the past few days in Los Angeles, after meeting with David, they talked non-stop with Paramount Pictures three times about the details of the co-production.

Today, when they were discussing cooperation with Paramount for the last time, Paramount CEO Barris Dickler, who took office the year before last, personally received them.

Coppola and Mario were surprised by the arrival of Barris Dickler. After a few people introduced each other, Barris Dickler asked a question.

"Can you tell me who the other investors in your film are?"

Coppola turned to look at Mario~

Mario pondered for a moment and smiled: "It's a friend who gave us a lot of support when we were in New York~"

"Hehe~"

Paris Dickler is not interested in such obvious scenes~

He asked: "I have read your script. The plot in it involves a lot about the history and current situation of gangs in New York. It was only after you came back from New York that you claimed to have found new investors~"

"Can I guess that in the past few days since you returned to New York, you have been recognized by certain people? Or have you received investment from certain people?"

Mario closed his mouth and said nothing. .

Coppola lowered his head and looked at the script in his hand. .

Seeing that both of them responded in silence, Barriss Dickler smiled and waved his hand to his subordinates: "Bring me the contract!"

"Ok~"

His subordinates handed over a contract for cooperation and filming that was already ready.

Barris Dickler looked over the contract, made sure it was OK, and pushed it in front of Coppola.

"Take this contract and go back to New York to discuss it with your...friends!"

"If they agree, call us and let us know~"

"I will send someone to New York with a copy of the same contract and ask you to sign it~"

"Are you satisfied with this arrangement?"

Coppola picked up the contract on the table in surprise and confusion, licked his lips, suppressed his curiosity, and nodded.

"No problem! We'll go back to New York tonight~"

Barris Dickler smiled and nodded: "Okay~ Director Coppola, screenwriter Mario, then I will wait for your good news in Los Angeles?"

Coppola stood up, shook hands with Barris and said with a smile: "It will definitely be good news~ We will contact you as soon as possible~"

"Ok~ I still have an appointment to make..."

"Oh~Sorry, you are busy~"

. . .

just now.

In the airport terminal, Coppola and Mario, who were waiting to take the red-eye flight back to New York, chatted in a relaxed mood.

Coppola asked: "I've never heard you mention it, how did you come up with the idea of ​​writing... a novel like 'The Godfather'?"

Mario adjusted his glasses, looked around, shook his head and smiled bitterly and whispered: "This is a... very long story. Are you sure you want to listen to it now?"

"Hahaha~ You novelists are born to be screenwriters~ You seem to be filled with stories?"

"Are you thinking about the plot of the next novel in your mind all day long?"

"No~ man! You..."

"Forget it~" Mario looked at his watch. It would be nearly an hour before it was their turn to board the plane.

He took a deep breath and told his story.

"That was...ten years ago!"

“I spent six years writing ‘The Lucky Pilgrim,’ a story about my mother.”

"My book was publicly signed. In three days, only three people walked into the bookstore. No one bought the book. One of them went to the wrong door."

"After signing on the third day, I complained to my friends and all over Candida: What did I do wrong? Or was it wrong that I thought people would agree with it? I didn't even know what to do, It’s time to write something!”

"You know what Candida said?"

"Haha~ She said people were very excited when they heard the part about gangs~"

"I said: In my book "Lucky Pilgrim", there are probably only three paragraphs describing gangs, right?"

"She said: Yes, but have you ever thought about writing a book about gangs?"

Mario Puzo showed his hands to Coppola with an exaggerated expression: "I spent my whole childhood avoiding those gangs. Around my home, the place was full of gang members. They wandered around in the streets all day long."

Coppola smiled and cooperated: "Then... what did Candida say?"

Mario chuckled and said, "She said, then write down some gang stories you know~"

"I said: Do you want me to be shot by them?"

"She said: You have spent six years writing a book that cannot sell a book in three days... Think about it~"

"Think carefully..."

"Candida is right. I watched her get into the car and drive away, walking down the street in frustration. I couldn't figure out whether to commit suicide... to write those stories about gangs."

"But... when I was wandering on the streets, not wanting to go home, I just wanted to find a place to get drunk~"

"The debt collector walked up to me~"

Coppola quickly interrupted Mario: "Wait~ I'm going to buy a cup of coffee first... I'll be right back!"

"..."

Mario looked at Coppola's retreating back and smiled to himself. .

After a few minutes.

Coppola trotted back with two cups of coffee and said with a smile: "Come on~ continue, you have piqued my curiosity~"

"You just mentioned the debt collector~you...were you in debt at that time?"

Mario shrugged, took a sip of coffee and said, "Be patient when listening to stories, man!"

"...The debt collector came up to me, pushed me against the wall on the street, and said that I owed his friend a thousand dollars..."

"A thousand dollars? A thousand dollars ten years ago? Wow ~ did you borrow that much money at that time?"

"Yes~ In front of the debt collector, I rummaged all over my body and handed him the only 40 dollars I had, hoping he would give me a few more days of reprieve."

"But I know, and he also knows, I won't be able to come up with a thousand dollars to repay the debt in a few days~"

"So...he beat me up ~ it was a threat and a warning~"

"After that, I went home helplessly with the wounds on my face~"

"My wife Lina, in the kitchen, helped me get ice cubes to apply on my face, and asked me how much money I owed outside."

"I was holding an ice cube wrapped in a handkerchief in my hand, and I felt extremely cold in my heart~"

"I replied: You don't want to know! I thought this book would be enough~sell some...and we can pay back the money~"

"My wife Lina stood silently by the stove, then walked over to me and sat down. She looked at me applying the wounds on my face and asked: What are you going to do in the future, Mario~"

"what can I say?"

"I...remembered Candida's words and said: Candida wants me to write about gangs, which will attract readers to buy the book~"

"You know, my wife Lina said something that made me feel extremely warm~"

"She said: I married you because you are an artist. You don't just write whatever others ask you to write~"

When Mario said this, he put the coffee in his hand aside, took off his glasses, and slowly wiped them under Coppola's gaze.

"I put down the ice cube in my hand and said helplessly to Lina: Only if I write books that can be sold can we have money to pay tuition for our children and replace the tractor-like washing machine at home. . . . so that you won’t have to wash your clothes with ice water in the winter. ”

"Haha~ You just came later...how is it?"

"Lina listened to what I said, held my hand emotionally, and asked again: How much do we owe!?"

"I pulled my hand back, picked up the towel again and put it on my face. After hesitating for a while, I said: I owe two horse racing agents five thousand dollars, I owe the bank several thousand dollars, and I owe loan sharks several thousand dollars. That's not all. I borrowed the money from my brother..."

Mario put on the glasses he had wiped clean in his hands, turned to Coppola and said: "If you were... Lina, what would you say after you learned that your family owes a huge debt of nearly [-] dollars?"

Coppola smiled, took a sip of coffee, and joked: "I would say: Why don't we get rid of those two horse betting agents... In this way, we can reduce our debt by five thousand dollars~hahaha~"

"Haha~" Mario smiled and shook his head.

"At that time, Lina poured herself ice water and drank most of it in one breath. After staring at me for a long time, she said: "Fuck XX art, Mario!" "

"You start writing right away!"

"I... thought I must have heard wrong, so I asked Lina for sure: Do you want me to tell you some gang stories?"

"She said...yeah!"

"I became confused instantly, and my mind was in confusion: How should I write a novel story?"

"Everyone knows that they control millions of people... they rob, they control gambling, they run unions..."

"Lina interrupted before I could finish: Well, maybe this is not just a book about gangs~"

"My mind was already confused at that time, and I asked even more puzzledly: What do you mean?"

"Lina sat down again and explained to me: Mario, the people you grew up with, they were no different from you in the beginning!~"

"They are also immigrants. They also eat and drink. They can love and hate, cry and laugh. They also have families like you, and they are also worried about the future of this child."

Mario tilted his head towards Coppola and said with a self-deprecating smile: "A sentence suddenly popped into my head at that time, and I said it without thinking: You have said one less thing~ The biggest difference between them and me is , they can also kill people!"

"Lina choked on her words, spread her hands and shook her head: OK ~ We probably won't kill people... But maybe your new book can help people find out why gangs... kill people?"

"After listening to Lina's words, I fell into a long silence..."

"As I continue to grow older... readers' preferences have changed~"

"Candida and Lina are right~"

"I have to think carefully. Only if this new book sells well can I pay off all my debts and allow my wife Lina and my five children to live a normal life."

Coppola smiled in surprise: "You have five children? Haha~ Then you...should have figured it out a long time ago~"

The self-deprecating smile on Mario's face turned into a bitter smile and said: "I wrote the book "The Godfather" for more than two years~"

"Just over two months after I completed the idea and started writing, a debt collector knocked on my door~"

"I knew I couldn't run away, so I could only open the door and try my best to explain to them~"

"The two debt collectors at the time were very curious about my new book about gangs, so they asked me to show them the latest typed manuscript~"

"After they finished reading it, they asked me in surprise: What about the back? Why are there only these?"

"I... can only spread my hands helplessly: I only wrote these, the rest... needs more time..."

"The two debt collectors looked at each other, took my manuscript, waved it and said: Let's take this first. If you are lucky enough, you can use this book to offset all debts!"

"I...what can I say?"

"I can only explain hurriedly: This is just a short section of the first part, and the rest... As long as you give me enough time, I will definitely finish it!"

"The two debt collectors heard me mention the time again and said with a smile: What we said doesn't count. Just write it down at home and wait for the news~"

"After that, they took the manuscript and left~"

"I also let out a long breath~"

"Coppola, do you know how I felt at that time?"

"I... really wanted to yell a few times!"

"Who would have thought that the gang stories I wrote would be interesting to the gang debt collectors? Haha~"

"What if... after my new book is released, every gang member comes to buy a copy... Haha~"

Mario's two hehe. .Coppola couldn't help but laugh: "Did they come to you again?"

"Of course there is!"

"Almost a week later, the two debt collectors knocked on my door again~"

"This time, they brought me good news - someone liked my new book... very much, and was prepared to give me more time to finish it!"

Coppola interrupted and asked, "Is there anyone?"

"Yeah~ you know him too!"

"Um...you don't mean...from the Sidrich family, right?"

"Hahaha~ Yes, it's old Malkin!"

"Hey~ How did you...he...that's how you met through a manuscript?"

"Hehe~ No, man!"

"Remember the loan sharks I mentioned before? The Sidrich family is the most reputable and largest moneylender in New York~"

"Those two debt collectors are one of the peripheral members of the Sidrich family."

"They liked my manuscript so much that they submitted it."

"In the end, old Malkin saw it and exempted me from a lot of loan shark interest, giving me more time to finish writing "The Godfather"~"

"..and after?"

"Later...for more than two years, old Malkin would send someone to pick up my latest manuscript every month, leaving me with some living expenses~"

"He also helped my children go back to school~"

"After they graduate from high school, find them a decent job~"

"After I finished writing "The Godfather", old Malkin had all the manuscripts sent back and brought me a sentence~"

"He said: This book is very interesting, but it is just a story that I imagined. If I want to publish it, I don't care. If I want to adapt it into a movie or do something else, I must get it. license!"

Coppola was stunned for a moment and took a deep breath: "Hey~ why haven't you told me before... is there such a thing?"

"Haha~ I told you...will you still shoot?"

"..No~"

"Isn't this the end? Haha~"

These two from Mario haha. .Coppola was momentarily speechless. .

The content in the book "The Godfather" involves many ordinary people's speculations about the gang's interior, gang background, personnel structure, etc. ~

As Mario just said, everyone in New York knows that gangs control the gambling industry, control the labor unions, and control most of the black and gray industrial chains. .

So, if it is really because of this upcoming movie that a certain gang boss is offended. .

The gang’s fatwa is real!

It's no joke. .What a joke!

Mario looked at Coppola's frightened expression from the corner of his eyes and reached out to pat him on the shoulder: "Man, it's easy to scare yourself if you think too much! Haha~"

"We're more than halfway there now, aren't we?"

Coppola twitched the corners of his mouth and complained with regret written on his face: "I quit now...is it still too late?"

"It's... too late!"

"fxxxyou! Mario!"

"Hahaha~"

----

California.

San Francisco Airport.

Two black cars parked at the entrance to the airport hall.

A tall and thin girl in a light-colored dress got out of the car and ran quickly into the airport. .

Twenty minutes later.

The girl walked out of the airport with an ugly face, stood by the car, stared at the airport lobby with gritted teeth, and whispered: "New York! You... can't run away... Humph~"

After saying that, the girl looked back at the driver in the distance and said loudly: "Prepare a plane for me and fly to New York tomorrow morning!"

"Okay, Miss Livlin~"

Livlin looked back at the airport hall again, stamped her feet hard, and got in the car. .

Two black cars drove away under the curious eyes of some passers-by. .

----

new York.

new day~

The autumn morning light spreads all over the city.

David grabbed his chicken coop head, squinted his eyes, entered the bathroom, and started washing up. .

last night.

When he came back, he saw the note left by Susan: I will stay with Martha tonight and help her move tomorrow morning~

. .Moving ~

David threw the note aside helplessly, he. .I can only sleep alone~

. . .

After half an hour.

David, feeling refreshed, put his tie in his pocket, picked up his briefcase, and left the apartment~

ten minutes later.

David and his four bodyguards were sitting in the Marseille restaurant, eating breakfast and reading some of today's newspapers. .

There were some latest news in the newspaper that caught David’s attention~

New York Times: A massacre occurred in Brooklyn! . .

(A few hundred words of the report are omitted here.)

The police have named this vicious case "The Sting Case" ~

Anyone who can provide effective clues to this case can go to the police station to receive a generous reward!

This is. .Offering a reward to investigate the case?

David read the report on the case again, shook his head slightly, and thought to himself. .

Tonight, after meeting Mr. Harold Stone, the director of the FBI, I have a new topic to talk about. .

hehe~

next!

Wall Street Journal: The government released its fiscal report for the first half of this year, and an era of big inflation may be coming!

This. .

David put the toast with jam in his hand into his mouth, took a sip of juice, picked up the newspaper, and read it seriously.

After a few minutes.

David let out a long breath. .

In this day and age, the media still have some moral integrity. .

This report is not a headline-grabbing headline~

Some of the government financial reports listed in it, as well as the editor's interpretation of the report attached at the end, clearly express the pessimism about the future domestic economic situation. .

According to the report: In the first half of this year, domestic prices generally rose sharply, CPI rose, foreign trade imports rose, crime rates rose, unemployment rates rose, corporate and individual bankruptcy rates rose, interest rates rose, real estate prices rose, rents rose, bond transactions The amount increased slightly.

Of course, there's more than just going up, there's a lot more going down. .

The profit margins of all domestic companies generally fell, per capita income fell, per capita consumption fell, per capita savings deposits fell, employment rates fell, factory operating rates fell, foreign trade exports fell, stock market index fell, the dollar exchange rate fell, public and private universities enrollment rates have dropped, people’s satisfaction with life has dropped, and so on. .

David frowned, read some data mentioned in the report twice, and shook his head slightly. .

These. .Where did you go~

Starting next year. .This is the era of greater inflation!

It will be second only to the Great Depression in the United States in the 30s. .Financial crisis!

However, crises also represent opportunities!

Represents the overall change of the industry ~

It represents that after the period of decline and depression, in the new round of recovery, countless people who can seize the opportunity will rise from the crisis!

David slowly folded the newspaper, preparing to save it and make a memo to remind himself of it in the future. .

Crisis is always around!

There are many ways to solve the crisis!

It depends on whether David can find the right path to the front from the fog of crisis ~

----

Manhattan, 66rd Street.

FBI New York headquarters.

Harold Stone, briefcase in hand, walked into the office.

In the office, New York CIA director Ezra Cremo stood up with a smile, stretched out his right hand and said.

"Sorry, I came a little early and saw that your office door was unlocked, so I came in uninvited~"

Mr. Harold Stone had a sarcastic sneer on his lips, ignored the right hand handed to him by Claymore, sat down on his chair, unbuttoned his suit and said.

"Tell me~ What's the matter with you that you need to meet and talk to me about?"

Ezra Claymore wasn't embarrassed either. .

He sat down with a smile, adjusted his posture, slowly put away his smile, and whispered: "I'm sorry~"

"My mission to New York this time is a top-secret mission~"

"I can't reveal any details of the operation to you until you promise to fully cooperate with me~"

Harold Stone had an expression on his face that he had known this for a long time, and sneered: "It won't be that damn Operation Paperclip again, will it?"

"Um...you know about paper clips?"

"fxxx!"

"Your cia has been carrying out this operation for more than 30 years... you have brought thousands of people back to the country intermittently!"

"As a supervisor who has been working at the FBI headquarters, if I didn't know about these little tricks of yours, I would be damned!"

Claymo pursed his lips and thought for a moment before saying: "You need to make a commitment, at least a verbal commitment. This is the procedure."

"Fuck that shit program!"

"Do you like to talk or not!"

"You know where the gate is... right?"

"Never see you again, no send-off!"

Harold Stone's few irritable replies silenced Claymore again. .

After a while, he said: "If you leak any information about the operation, both of us... will go to military court!"

"A court martial?"

"fxxx! Stop talking and leave now!"

"...You're not leaving, are you? I'm leaving!"

Harold Stone jumped up from his chair and ran out of the office quickly regardless of Claymore's obstruction. .

As he walked, he muttered in a low voice: "Damn cia! A secret plan like shit! fxxx!"

"Damn it...tomorrow, no! I'll call in sick later!"

"Whoever wants to come, come!"

"Court Martial!?"

"Haha~ I don't want to see this in my whole life!"