- Mustafa: How is your son? I've heard he had some problems lately. Why didn't you talk to Mustafa?
- The Sniffer: I handled it myself.
- Mustafa: Pride is good. I'm a prideful man myself, but I ask you now - help me out with this. A dear friend of mine was murdered. Only a trusted few knew about the meeting. Tell me, who did this? CAN you?
- The Sniffer: Mustafa, you know I don't work with criminals.
- Mustafa: I remember. And I also remember your debt. One has to pay his debts.
- The Sniffer: Let's work something out.
- The Sniffer: [takes a sniff in the warehouse] Methyl bromide.
- Col. Viktor Lebedev: [sniffs as if equal to the task of identifying odors] Mmm, exactly. Methyl bromide.
- The Sniffer: [eyeing him] So what does that mean?
- Col. Viktor Lebedev: It means that it's... methyl made of bromide?
- The Sniffer: Mm. "Methyl made of bromide." That's original. Looks like you graduated school with at least two A's - PE and PE.
- Col. Viktor Lebedev: Fine. You got me. What does it mean?
- The Sniffer: That's what they use for fumigation of second-hand shit. It is used as a pesticide and fumigant to kill insects and bacteria.
- Ballistics: [as the Sniffer raises his voice] Look at that. Now he wants to not only control US but the entire street. Big boss man...
- Mustafa: Listen here, until I find out who took out Misha Kievsky, no one makes a move. Nothing is to be done without my direct order. If someone disobeys me, I'll personally have him rolled up in a rug.
- Mustafa: Help me find the rat. Mustafa always remembers a favor.
- The Sniffer: How do I do that?
- Mustafa: The rat is one of ours. I get all of them together, you show up, sniff them and point him out. Please understand, dear boy. A war will start. Everyone suffers. Many innocent people will become victims of bloodshed. I think you're forgetting something - how Seva Kazansky had to go, and who was going to take the fall for his death? Who saved you then?
- Col. Viktor Lebedev: Well, Mustafa, looks like you're going away for good this time.
- Mustafa: Dear boy, you will let me out tomorrow. I don't even have a gun on me. I'd be glad to do the time if you have evidence. Concrete proof. Without them, this is all just hair salon gossip.