Drowned Hopes part 2

"I think you can't blow up the dam, Tom," Dortmunder said. "I think you can't drown a whole lot of people--hundreds and hundreds of people--in their beds, or in anybody's beds, for seven hundred thousand dollars."

"Three hundred fifty thousand," Tom corrected. "Half of it is yours, Al. Yours and whoever else you bring in on the caper."

Dortmunder looked frankly at his old cellmate. "You'd really do that, Tom? You'd kill hundreds and hundreds of people for three hundred fifty thousand dollars?"

"I'd kill them at a dollar apiece," Tom told him, "if it meant I could get outta this part of the world and get down to Mexico and move into my goddamn golden years of retirement."

Dortmunder said, "Tom, maybe you were inside too long. You can't do things like that, you know. You can't go around killing hundreds and hundreds of people just like snapping your fingers."

"It isn't just like snapping my fingers, Al," Tom said. "That's the problem. If it was like snapping my fingers, I'd go do it myself and keep the whole seven hundred."

Donald Westlake, Drowned Hopes