Max: I wasn't too excited about the acoustics in this place. A couple of gunshots would sound like I'd walked in here with a goddamn matching band. It wasn't pretty but I guess none of what was going to happen was going to be. It was the question I kept on asking myself, how could I have been so blind? I was convinced the Brancos had gotten the wrong man for the job but maybe Da Silva was right, I was the stooge, the bad joke everybody got but me.
Max: Call it evidence for Da Silva, buffet, was there anything they didn't have a grubby hand in? A few days earlier I'd have called it a coincidence but I'd written off too many of those already. The Imperial Palace Hotel was a bonafide five star shit hole. I needed to find out why guests were checking in by the busload and checking out by the bagload. Maybe the service would be better upstairs.
Max: Da Silva and I had the same fan club. I knew enough and he knew too much. We'd both become targets.