Ray: Okay, I'll tell you this much. The world runs on money. Everybody walks around with this invisible number in their heads. You hit the figure close enough, the penny drops, you own the man. In Hong Kong you can buy a murder for five bucks. In New York City a sloppy job runs you five hundred. A neat, clean, professional hit, upwards of ten grand. On skid row they'll kill you for your shoes. I take money out of the equation. My hands don't sweat, because I'm never at the pay window.