Consent to Kill Quotes

"Because I am not a coward. Because I don't have other people do my work for me. I do it face to face. I don't blow up houses and kill innocent bystanders." Claudia looked away and swallowed hard.

"I hope no one around here got any paper cuts while I was out getting shot and stabbed." - Rapp

Who's your friend?
Coleman started to answer, and then McMahon put his and out and cut him off. "Never mind," the agent said. "I don't want to know. Do I?"
Coleman shrugged. "It wasn't like I was going to give you his real name."

This was, after all, the country of Napoleon, who had once dominated all of Europe. In less than a century they had gone from one of the world's preeminent powers to a country incapable of putting up a fight.

Who the hell is he? asked McMahon. "He's the best sniper I've ever seen. He can track anything." "He works for you now?"
"Yep."
"Lovely. God, I hope you don't end up with the FBI on your doorstep someday."
"You and I both."

"Waheed? Rashind said in utter disbelief. "That cannot be. He is dead."
"He is now," Tayyib said, not trying to be funny.

Hold on a minute. We haven't done anything wrong. "You're kidding...right?" Rapp looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Well... nothing recently. I mean for Christ's sake, we're on the same team. Aren't we?"

Who do you think? "I don't know," growled an angry Abel.
"Mitch Rapp."
Abel stopped pacing. "How? That's impossible."
"Apparently not."

Rapp again noted the poor tactics and discipline, and asked himself, "Who in the hell are these clowns?"

"I have no doubt you could find someone who would take the job for a million and a half, and I also have no doubt that Monsieur Rapp would kill that man before he got anywhere near him." - Gould

"Easy doesn't factor into it for me, Senator. I'm talking about right and wrong." - Rapp

He was wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a black Mountain Hard-wear fleece jacket. He had a large black rubber dive watch on his right wrist, his hair was dark and shaggy, and although he was a good seventy-five pounds lighter than the FBI agent, McMahon had no doubt the little scrapper could kill him without breaking a sweat. This guy was Special Forces from head to toe.