Hour of the Assassins

Cover Hour of the Assassins
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Genres: Fiction
Pity,” Feinberg said deliberately, sucking his teeth as though it helped him digest the information.
“Let’s not waste too many crocodile tears on him. He wasn’t what you would call a choirboy,” Caine put in sarcastically.
“That he wasn’t,” Feinberg agreed. “In a way, he achieved a certain celebrity. You see, Müller was the SS officer responsible for the massacre of tens of thousands of Jews at Babi Yar in the Ukraine. A Russian poet wrote a famous poem about it.” The corners of his eyes behind
...the bifocal lenses crinkled as he ventured an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I can never remember poetry. Still it’s a pity you weren’t able to get more out of him. He’s been on my list for a long time.”
“He wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood,” Caine observed.
Feinberg smiled appreciatively and began to stuff his pipe with tobacco in a slow, deliberate manner. He carefully tamped the tobacco down, lit it, then dissatisfied with the draw, he tamped it down again, with the precision of an old man who has lived alone for a long time.
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