“No, Mr. Lansky, I was telling you about the gun. Soviet murder squads used that type of gun to murder Polish officers in 1940. They shot them in the back of the head and then buried the bodies in the Katyń Forest and later blamed the Germans for it. There were plenty of guns like that in Europe at the end of the war. But oddly, not that many on this side of the Atlantic. Especially not with a Bramit silencer. That alone makes this killing look professional. You see, sir, even with a silencer, all pistols will still make a noise. Maybe enough noise to alert Waxey. But a Nagant’s the only kind of pistol you can silence completely. You see, there’s no gap between the cylinder and the barrel. It’s what they call a ‘closed firing system,’ which means you can suppress whatever noise comes out of the barrel one hundred percent—provided, that is, you have a Bramit silencer. Frankly, it’s the perfect weapon for a clandestine killing. The Nagant would also account for the higher velocity of the thirty-eight-caliber bullet, too. Enough to knock out an eyeball that got in the way. So what I’m saying is this. Whoever shot Max Reles didn’t need to do it during last night’s fireworks. They could have shot him at any time between midnight and when Waxey found the body this morning, and nobody would have heard a damn thing. Oh, and by the way, this isn’t exactly the kind of gun you can buy in your local gun store. Least of all with a silencer. These days the Ivans prefer the much lighter Tokarev TT. That’s an automatic, in case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know,” agreed Lansky. “But as it happens I’m not as ignorant about the Russians as you might think, Gunther. My family was from Grodno, on the Russian-Polish border. Me and my brother, Jake, we left when we were kids. To get away from the Russians. Jake here knew one of those Polish officers who got themselves killed. People today talk about German anti-Semitism, but for my family, the Russians were just as bad. Maybe worse.”

Jake Lansky nodded. “I think so,” he said. “And so did Pop.”

“So how come you know so much about this stuff?”

“During the war, I was in German military intelligence,” I said. “And for a short while afterward I was in a Soviet POW camp. If I’m cagey about my name, it’s because I killed a couple of Ivans while making my escape from a train bound for a uranium mine in the Urals. I doubt I’d have come back from there. Very few German POWs have ever come back from the Soviet Union. They ever catch up with me, I’m soap on a rope, Mr. Lansky.”