Gentlemen, this is my Chief of Police. He stands here gossiping while hoodlums storm the Presidential Palace. In addition, he has no clue what is going on. Sit down! Inspector General of Police! (Chapter 1)

Your greatest risk is your boyhood friend, those who grew up with you in your village. Keep them at arm’s length and you will live long. (Chapter 2)

Well, that’s not good enough, Mr. Commissioner for Information. Not good enough for me. You seem to be forgetting something, namely that it is my name and address which is printed at the bottom of page sixteen of the Gazette and not that of any fucking, excuse my language, any fucking Commissioner. It’s me who’ll be locked up by Major Samsonite if the need arises, not you. It’s my funeral... (Chapter 3)

No, he means to kill you is like to kill a dog. (Chapter 4)

You know something, Dick... (Chapter 5)