“Bissell fingered his napkin. "I do, Mr. Boyd. And I know how generous Mr. Hoffa, Mr. Marcello and a few other Italian gentlemen have been to the Cause, and I know that you possess a certain amount of influence in the Kennedy camp. And as the President's chief Cuban-issue liaison, I also know that Fidel Castro and Communism are a good deal worse than the Mafia, although I wouldn't dream of asking you to intercede on our friends' behalf, because it might cost you credibility with your sacred Kennedys."Stanton dropped his soup spoon. Pete let a big breath out eeeasy.Boyd put out a big shit-eating grin. "I'm glad you feel that way, Mr. Bissell. Because if you did ask me, I'd have to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

“Jimmy Hoffa said, “I know how Jesus must have felt. The fucking pharaohs rose to power on his coattails like the fucking Kennedy brothers are rising on mine.”Heshie Ryskind said, “Get your history straight. It was Julius Caesar that did Jesus in.”

“He was about to pocket a list of local sanitariums when he heard "Traitor," and saw Mickey and Herman Gerstein standing a few feet away. Cohen with a clean shot, but a half dozen witnesses spoiling his chance. Buzz said, "I suppose this means my guard gig's kaput. Huh, Mick?" The man looked hurt as much as he looked mad. "Goyishe shitheel traitor. Cocksucker. Communist. How much money did I give you? How much money did I set up for you that you should do me like you did?" Buzz said, "Too much, Mick." "That is no smart answer, you fuck. You should beg. You should beg that I don't do you slow." "Would it help?" "No." "There you go, boss." Mickey said, "Herman, leave this room"; Gerstein exited. The typers kept typing and the clerks kept clerking. Buzz gave the little hump's cage a rattle. "No hard feelin's, huh?" Mickey said, "I will make you a deal, because when I say "deal," it is always to trust. Right?" "Trust" and "deal" were the man's bond-it was why he went with him instead of Siegel or Dragna. "Sure, Mick." "Send Audrey back to me and I will not hurt a hair on her head and I will not do you slow. Do you trust my word?" "Yes." "Do you trust I'll get you?" "You're the oddson favorite, boss." "Then be smart and do it." "No deal. Take care, Jewboy. I'll miss you. I really will.”

“Who is it?" I asked teasingly"Bigfoot," Dex answered from his room."What do you want, Mr Foot?""Please, just call me Big."I snorted. "You wish.""You know.”

“Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?” I ask sweetly. Pompous ass.”

“Where’s your sketch pad?” I asked.… “I gave that up,” Kay said. “I wasn’t very good, so I changed my major.”“To what?”“To pre-med, then psychology, then English lit, then history.”“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”Kay smiled. “So do I, but I don’t know any.”

“Why do you ask?""Because I can.""You can what?""I can go in the private collection!" I scurried toward him. "My father had a lifetime subscriptioin, Mr. Sheridan, and not just that, but he had special privileges. I'm certain I could use his name to get you into the private collection."Daniel's jaw fell. "Why didn't you say so before?""What?" I recoiled. "How was I supposed to know you needed it?""We could've gone ages ago!"My enthusiasm transformed into outrage. "In that case, why didn't you say you needed it?""Because I didn't know you had a subscription!""Aha!" I cried, thrusting a finger at him. "Your argument's a circle!"Daniel sprang up. "We wasted all this time-""Silence!" Joseph roared. "You are like squawking parrots, and I have had quite enough. Miss Fitt, I would ask that you take Mr. Sheridan to the library immediately. Daniel, I would ask that you keep that big mouth of yours silent.”