Inspector Tarconi: I always say, the way a man treats his car is how he treats himself.
Inspector Tarconi: Monsieur Frank, people with this kind of firepower do not make mistakes about who they visit. Who would want you this dead?
Wall Street: Poor Frank. What'd she tell you? That we're smuggling people in containers? You know, Lai's a great name for her.
[Mr. Kwai is about to shoot Frank]
Frank Martin: I'd rather see it coming.
Mr. Kwai: Makes no difference to me.
Wall Street: [to injured guy in bed] Who did this to you?
Man in Hospital: [weakly] The transporter.
Wall Street: The transporter's dead.
Man in Hospital: No. Believe me, he isn't.
Wall Street: I believe you. And the police? Were they here?
[comes up close to injured guy and starts wiping the sweat off from his
mouth using his handkerchief]
Wall Street: You told them nothing, right?
Man in Hospital: No.
Wall Street: Of course, you couldn't. Let's keep it that way.
[jams the handkerchief down the guy's throat, choking him to death]
Frank Martin: I got sick of seeing my best efforts turned into bullshit, by the same people that paid me to do the job!