Harlan Coben Win Quotes & Sayings

I made the deal with Mr. Zuckerman on my own," Crispin said. "I could make others." "I won't comment on the Zoom deal," Win said. "But I will tell you this. You are a bright young man. A bright man knows not only his strengths but equally important, he knows his weaknesses. I do not, for example, know how to negotiate an endorsement contract. I may know the basics, but it is not my business. I'm not a plumber. If a pipe in my house broke, I would not be able to fix it. You are a golfer. You are one of the greatest talents I have ever seen. You should concentrate on that." Tad — Harlan Coben

What about her?" Win shook his head. "God, Myron, you're such a sexist. And here she is now." Win looked toward the door. Myron did the same and immediately recognized the woman who'd entered. It was Brooke Baldwin, Win's cousin and, more to the point, mother of the still-missing Rhys. Myron hadn't seen Brooke in, what, five years, he surmised. A — Harlan Coben

It was scary," she said. "Win was scary." "He also saved your life." "Yes." "It's what Win does. He's good at it - the best I've ever seen. Everything with him is black and white. He has no moral ambiguities. If you cross the line, there is no reprieve, no mercy, no chance to talk your way out of it. You're dead. Period. Those men came to harm you. Win wasn't interested in rehabilitating them. They made their choice. The moment they entered your apartment they were doomed." "It sounds like the theory of massive retaliation," she said. "You kill one of ours, we kill ten of yours." "Colder," Myron said. "Win's not interested in teaching a lesson. He sees it as extermination. They're no more than pestering fleas to him. — Harlan Coben

Myron reached for the phone and dialed Win's number. After the eighth ring he began to hang up when a weak, distant voice coughed. "Hello?"
Win?"
Yeah."
You okay?"
Hello?"
Win?"
Yeah."
What took you so long to answer the phone?"
Hello?"
Win?"
Who is this?"
Myron."
Myron Bolitar?"
How many other Myrons do you know?"
Myron Bolitar?"
No, Myron Rockefeller."
Something's wrong," Win said.
What?"
Terribly wrong."
What are you talking about?"
Some asshole is calling me at seven in the morning pretending to be my best friend."
Sorry, I forgot the time. — Harlan Coben

Win's phone rang. He picked it up and said, "Articulate. Okay, put it through." Two seconds later he handed the phone to Myron. "For me?" Myron asked. Win gave him flat eyes. "No," he said. "I'm handing you the phone because it's too heavy for me." Everyone's a wiseass. — Harlan Coben

He checked his watch. "One more drink," Win said. "And then I will go in the other room because - oh, you'll love this - Mee so horny." I — Harlan Coben

Your visit with Interpol went well?" "They asked their questions, I told them my story." "One thing I don't get," I said. "Why haven't they brought me in yet?" Win smiled. "You know why." "They're tailing me." "Correct answer." "You see them?" "Black car on right corner." "Mossad is probably following me too." "You're a very popular man." "It's because I'm a good listener. People like a good listener." "Indeed." "I'm also fun at parties." "And a snazzy dancer. What do you want to do about the tails?" "I'd like to lose them for the day." "No problem. — Harlan Coben

Win. He was often described in the society pages as an "international playboy," and she guessed that fit. He was blue-blooded old money, very old money, the kind of old money that disembarked from the Mayflower and immediately called for a caddy and a tee time. — Harlan Coben

We move to the dance floor. We face each other. She puts one hand on my shoulder and the other hand in mine. We start to dance. At some point Ema moves closer. She rests her head on my shoulder.
I barely move. I barely breath.
I just want this moment to last. — Harlan Coben

I'm driving home to change," Win said. "Then I'm dining at Merion." Mainliners never ate; they dined. "Care to join me?" "Sounds good," Myron said. "Wait a second." "What?" "Are you properly attired?" "I don't clash," Myron said. "Will they still let me in?" "My, my, that was very funny, Myron. I must write that one down. As soon as I stop laughing, I plan on locating a pen. However, I am so filled with mirth that I may wrap my precious Jag around an upcoming telephone pole. Alas, at least I will die with jocularity in my heart." Win. "We have a case," Myron said. Silence. Win made this so easy. "I'll tell you about it at dinner." "Until then," Win said, "it'll be all I can do to douse my mounting excitement and anticipation with a snifter of cognac." Click. Gotta love that Win. Myron hadn't driven a mile when the cellular phone rang. Myron switched it on. It was Bucky. "The kidnapper called again. — Harlan Coben

Myron was just getting comfortable when he heard a toilet flush. He looked a question at Win. "I am not alone," Win said. "Oh." Myron adjusted himself on the couch. "A woman?" "Your gifts," Win said. "They never cease to amaze." "Anybody I know?" Myron asked. Win shook his head. "Not even somebody I know." The norm. Myron looked steadily at his friend. "You want to talk about this?" "No." "I'm here if you do." "Yes, I see that." Win swished around the drink in the snifter. He finished it in one gulp and reached for the crystal decanter. There was a slight slur in his speech. Myron tried to remember the last time he had seen Win the vegetarian, the master of several martial arts, the transcendental meditator, the man so at ease and in focus with his surroundings, have too much to drink. It had been a very long time. "I have a golf question for you," Myron said. Win nodded for him to proceed. — Harlan Coben

Win took another putt. Another make. "We're not the same, you and I. We both know that. But it's okay." "It's not okay." "Yes, it is. If we were the same it wouldn't work. We'd both be dead by now. Or insane. We balance each other. It's why you're my best friend. It's why I love you." Silence. "Don't do it again," Myron said. Win did not reply. He lined up another putt. "Did you hear me?" "It's time to move on," Win said. "This incident is in the past. You know better than to try to control the future." More silence. Win sank another putt. — Harlan Coben

Myron and Win met up three blocks away near an elementary school. A parked car here would be less conspicuous. Win was dressed in black, including a black skull cap that hid his blond locks. — Harlan Coben

Maybe Myron didn't care so much. You read the papers and you watch the news and you see what Myron has seen and your humanity, your basic faith in human beings, begins to look frighteningly Pollyanna. That was what was really eating away at him - not that he was repulsed by what Win did, but that it really didn't bother him that much. Win — Harlan Coben

They're politicians,' Win said. 'They'd lie and evade if you asked them what they had for breakfast. — Harlan Coben

Emily pinned him with her eyes. "Custody battles are war without the Geneva Accords," she said. "Greg got nasty. I got nasty back. You do whatever you have to in order to win. — Harlan Coben

Win unfastened his seat belt and walked over to Evan Crisp. He handed him the satellite phone. "I need you to call Herman Ache. Tell him we will meet him at his Livingston residence within the hour." Crisp offered up skeptical. "You're kidding, right?" "I am indeed a mirthful fellow. But no." "He won't let you in armed." "That's — Harlan Coben

YOU don't know her secret," Win said to me. "Should I?" Win shrugged. "It's bad?" I asked. "Very," Win said. "Then maybe I don't want to know." Two days before I learned the secret she'd kept buried for a decade - the seemingly personal secret that would not only devastate the two of us but change the world forever - Terese Collins called me at five AM, pushing me from one quasi-erotic dream into another. She simply said, "Come to Paris." I had not heard her voice in, what, seven years maybe, and the line had static and she didn't bother with hello or any preamble. I stirred and said, "Terese? Where are you?" "In a cozy hotel on the Left Bank called d'Aubusson. You'll love it here. There's an Air France flight leaving tonight at seven." I — Harlan Coben

People, Win knew, made snap judgments based on appearances. No great insight there. And yes, there were the obvious prejudices against African-Americans or Jews or what-have-you. But Win was more concerned with the more garden-variety prejudices. If, for example, you see an overweight woman eating a doughnut, you are repulsed. You make snap judgments - she is undisciplined, lazy, sloppy, probably stupid, definitely lacking in self-esteem. In — Harlan Coben

Myron looked at her. "Quite a coup," he said. "Thank you," she said. "We'll see how big a coup it is," Zuckerman said. "Zoom is moving into golf in a very big way. Huge. Humongous. Gigantic." "Enormous," Myron said. "Mammoth," Win added. "Colossal." "Titantic." "Bunyanesque." Win smiled. "Brobdingnagian," he said. "Oooo," Myron said. "Good one." Zuckerman — Harlan Coben

They both got in their cars. Myron watched Erik drive off. Then he picked up the cell phone and hit Win's speed dial. "Articulate." "I need you to break into a house." "Goody. Please explain." "I found a path where I dropped Aimee off. It leads to another cul-de-sac." "Ah. Do we have a thought then about where she ended up?" "Sixteen Fernlake Court." "You sound fairly certain." "There's a car in the driveway. On the back windshield is a sticker. It's for teacher parking at Livingston High School." "On my way. — Harlan Coben

After three rings the machine picked up. Win's annoyingly superior accent said, "Hang up without leaving a message and die." Beep. Myron shook his head, smiled, and, as always, left a message. He — Harlan Coben

So basically, that entire theory is blown to hell."
Not basically," Win corrected. "Entirely. — Harlan Coben

Violence doesn't solve anything. Win would make a face when I said that, but the truth was, whenever I resorted to violence, it never just ended there. Violence ripples and reverberates. It echoes and really never seems to go silent. — Harlan Coben

When we got to the Lock-Horne Building on Park Avenue - again Win's full name is Windsor Horne Lockwood III, so you do the math - Dad said, "You want me to just drop you off?" Sometimes my father leaves me awestruck. Fatherhood is about balance, but how can one man do it so well, so effortlessly? Throughout my life he pushed me to excel without ever crossing the line. He reveled in my accomplishments yet never made them seem to be all that important. He loved without condition, yet he still made me want to please him. He knew, like now, when to be there, and when it was time to back off. "I'll be okay." He — Harlan Coben