‘That’s one of your little specialities, isn’t it? The cigarette punch? I’ve heard you say so yourself.’

‘There’s no fucking patent on it, Gunther.’ He took a long drag on the dead cigarette and narrowed his bleary eyes. ‘You accusing me of canning him?’

‘Can I see your gun, Inspector Deubel?’

For several seconds Deubel stood sneering at me before reaching for his shoulder holster. Behind him Korsch was slowly reaching for his own gun, and he kept his hand on its handle until Deubel had laid the Walther PPK on my desk. I picked it up and sniffed the barrel, watching his face for some sign that he knew Bautz had been killed with a gun of a much smaller calibre.

‘Shot, was he?’ He smiled.

‘Executed, more like,’ I said. ‘It looks like someone put one between his eyes while he was out cold.’

‘I’m choked.’ Deubel shook his head slowly.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You’re just pissing on the wall, Gunther, and hoping that some of it will splash my fucking trousers. Sure, I didn’t like that little Czech, just like I hate every pervert that touches kids and hurts women. But that doesn’t mean that I had anything to do with his murder.’

‘There’s an easy way of convincing me of that.’

‘Oh? And what’s that?’

‘Show me that garter-gun you keep on you. The Little Tom.’ Deubel raised his hands innocently.

‘What garter gun? I haven’t got a gun like that. The only lighter I’m carrying is there on the table.’

‘Everyone who’s worked with you knows about that gun. You’ve bragged about it often enough. Show me the gun and you’re in the clear. But if you’re not carrying it, then I’ll figure it’s because you had to get rid of it.’

‘What are you talking about? Like I said, I don’t have–’

Korsch stood up. He said: ‘Come on, Eb. You showed that gun to me only a couple of days ago. You even said that you were never without it.’

‘You piece of shit. Take his side against one of your own, would you? Can’t you see? He’s not one of us. He’s one of Heydrich’s fucking spies. He doesn’t give two farts about Kripo.’

‘That’s not the way I see it,’ Korsch said quietly. ‘So how about it? Do we get to see the gun or not?’

Deubel shook his head, smiled and wagged a finger at me.

‘You can’t prove anything. Not a thing. You know that, don’t you?’

I pushed my chair away with the backs of my legs. I needed to be on my feet to say what I was going to say.