The Killer Collective (John Rain, #10; Ben Treven, #4; Livia Lone, #3)

by Barry Eisler

First was the fewer, not less. Now it was the care in avoiding a preposition at the end of a sentence. An educated man, presumably. Precise. Apparently fussy about small-minded rules, perhaps to compensate for a willingness to ignore large ones.

The insult was calculated. Whether this guy was an amateur or a professional, he would perceive himself as the latter, and would now be invested in proving it to me. Interrogators call the technique ego down.

The sun was over the peaks now, and in the mist from the recent rains, the Blue Ridge Mountains were justifying their name.

“Loyalty. People who demonstrate their loyalty to me are rewarded. People who don’t are treated differently.” “That seems reasonable.” “How did Sonny Barger put it? ‘Treat me well, and I’ll treat you better. Treat me badly, and I’ll treat you worse.’”

‘If you want something you’ve never had before, you have to do something you’ve never done before.’

“Your French sounds really good,” she said when the waiter was gone. She knew that complimenting men was a great way to get them to talk—interrogators called it ego up—and she wondered if she could get him to open up a little.

I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”

W.B. Yeates