“I could use some help with an FTA.What's your problem?He's old, and I'll look like a loser if I shoot him.”

“I used to tell your mother she looked like Sophia Lauren." He looks at me, frowning, and then it registers. "Oh God, some guy's using that line on you, isn't he?""Not just 'some guy'." I tell him. "The guy.”

“She looks like the type that might freak out. It's something in the eyes, Frannie. It says if you shoot my sacred cows, I'll shoot yours.”

“Do you still have the revolver you were going to shoot me with?” asked the old man on the telephone.“Yes, I have it here.”“How much ammunition?”“No idea. How do I find out?”He explained. In the moonlight, she felt the bulges of the cartridges in the cylinder. “Six,” she said.“And you don’t know how to use it?”“No.”“But you are American.”“Ha-ha.”“If you do as I say, and go about it cleverly, I hope you won’t need it. Unless Cesare Carnevare crosses your path, in which case please be kind enough to shoot him.”“How about the concordat?”He laughed. “Shoot him when no one’s looking.”

“I could not fail myself and die on a fish like this," he said. "Now that I have him coming so beautifully, God help me endure. I'll say a hundred Our Fathers and a hundred Hail Marys. But I cannot say them now."Consider them said, he thought. I'll say them later.”

“His gaze on mine was completely steady and unblinking, and there was an upward curl at the corners of his mouth . . . he was smiling like he was actually enjoying this.But I couldn't help feeling as if, behind those blue eyes, there was a different Christopher – the old Christopher – begging me to call him on his asinine behavior. To say, I'm asking for your help now. Will you help us? Will you help me?Only I didn't.Because I was too angry with him. Why was he acting like such a four-year-old? I'd already explained to him why I'd made the decisions I had. They'd been perfectly decent, rational decisions.So why was he acting this way?”