OK, I made some minor changes to the Tom/Michael "Walk & Talk" scene, incorporating some of Don Tomasso's suggestions and the timeline mistake that Sicilian Babe caught.

Thanks again, guys.

Here's another installment:

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Willi Cicci was seated in the office of Bradley Pennington, Assistant Attorney General of the United States.

Even seated behind his desk, Pennington was a handsome and imposing, if rather youngish looking, figure. Six feet, four inches tall with blonde hair and blue eyes and only thirty-two years of age, his rise through the ranks of the Justice Department had been meteoric.

After graduating from Yale University, where he had played three sports and starred at forward on a basketball team that had won the Ivy League championship, he stayed at Yale for Law School, editing the school’s law review, and being offered, upon graduation, a position clerking for a noted Supreme Court Justice, for whom he had written the bulk of the majority opinion in an important case involving school desegregation in the south.

Upon completion of his clerkship, he was recommended by that grateful justice for a government position, which he eagerly accepted, thinking that a few years working for the Justice Department would enable him to make the contacts necessary for an entry into either a lurative private practice or politics.

“First of all, the government would like to thank you once again for your cooperation, Mr. Cicci” Pennington said. “Even though Michael Corleone was able to ‘escape our clutches’ so to speak, we think we gave him and his cohorts – his associates – in organized crime something to think about.”

Willi Cicci knew exactly what a “cohort” was. It always amused him, he thought, how people perceived him as someone lacking in intelligence. He had used that perception to his advantage many times in the past, and he thought about the time that he had made Senator Questadt explain to him what a “buffer” was.

“Also, Mr. Cicci, I have here the details and necessary paperwork and such for your new identity. You’ll also find your plane ticket inside, and all the information that you’ll need to get started with, ah, your ‘new life’, so to speak.” He handed an envelope across the desk to Willi.

Cicci took the envelope, but did not open it. He waited to see if Pennington was going to say anything else.

Pennington was the first to break the silence. “Your new name will be Dominick Abruzzio. You’re being relocated to Houston, Texas. As our agreement stipulates, you will receive a lump sum of $2000 to help you get settled, and a $400 monthly stipend from the government for the next two years. But you’re expected to find employment and become self sufficient within that time period.

Cicci knew exactly what the terms of his agreement with the government were, and he didn’t need Pennington to explain them to him for what seemed like the twentieth time since he had made the deal to testify four months go. He sat there and continued to stare at Pennington. He still hadn’t said a word.

“Well, Mr. Cicci, if you don’t have any questions….” Pennington was clearly becoming uneasy in the presence of a career criminal and murderer. “If there’s nothing else, you’ll have to excuse me, please.” He rose.

“Agents Ross and Wilson are waiting for you outside. They will escort you back to your hotel, and then to the airport this evening to make sure you get on your plane all right. I would advise you, by the way, to cut your hair and shave your mustache once you are no longer under the direct protection of the FBI.” He paused for a moment. “Let me thank you once again for your invaluable help and cooperation, and take this opportunity to wish you the very best of luck.’ He tentatively held out his hand, and Cicci, just as tentatively, shook it.

Dominick Abruzzio of Houston, Texas. He’d blend in nicely there, Willi thought, fighting hard to suppress a smile. He’d go to Houston, he thought. He might even stay a while and get settled. But he also had some ideas of his own. Like a visit to Nevada, where he planned to say “Hello” to an old friend and former employer.

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