The Assassins

by Alan Bardos

  'Word of our planned outrage must have filtered through to the government,' Apis said, trying to order his thoughts.

  Tankosic nodded agreement, 'It was to be expected. The government has its agents as well.'

  Pasic, the Serbian Prime Minister, had closed the border, but been too late to stop the Major's Young Bosnia cell from getting through to Sarajevo.

  'And so Pasic has put pressure on the executive council to get the operation stopped,' Apis reasoned.

  Although the primary goal of Unity or Death was to fight the Austro-Hungarian Empire and undermine Pasic's appeasement of Austro-Hungary, all of which the Sarajevo 'outrage' would accomplish, Apis knew that it didn't always do to pull the tiger by the tail. The organisation couldn't operate if the government decided to crack down on it completely.

  'Major, I want you to let Sarajevo know, through the usual channels, that the council has ordered the mission to be cancelled.'

  That should satisfy the council and word would filter back to the government that he'd sent an envoy to stop the operation, Apis reflected.

  'At the same time, I'd like your envoy to suggest that this is the council's decision, not your own.' Apis looked sharply at Tankosic and paused to make sure that Tankosic understood the inferred implications of the statement. 'Our line will then be, that we tried to stop the attempt on the Archduke's life, but the outrage was carried out by his own citizens beyond the control of Union or Death.'

  Tankosic smiled, 'I will make the necessary arrangements.'

  *

  Danilo Ilic settled himself at the arranged cafe, overlooking the Sava River. This was the third time he'd been made to travel across Bosnia for the sake of the conspiracy. Unlike the other plots he'd been involved in, things were starting to take shape and spiral out of his control, and now he'd been summoned to the Serbian frontier for a meeting with someone so notorious that he couldn't risk a visit to Sarajevo.

  Ilic ordered a glass of milk in the hope that it would soothe his troubled stomach. He'd had a very difficult journey; the uncertainty of what awaited him here caused his ulcer to flare up. It hadn't been right since that awful night in Semiz, when the idiot Jovo cornered him into drinking jug after jug of wine, for the sake of the plot. Ilic was starting to doubt the prudence of recruiting Jovo into the cell. He'd picked up all the licentiousness and none of the culture of Northern Europe. The drinking had at least provided Ilic with a temporary escape from the doubts and anguish he felt about the assassination.

  He firmly believed that people had a right to take action against an unjust ruler, as was happening all across Europe. These were acts of desperation, of despair against tyranny - unselfish acts, to reclaim the moral order which a tyrant had corrupted. Kropotkin wrote of a moral urge that would destroy authority and create a free society.

  Tyrannicide is the principal part of the moral urge to destroy such authority, but that didn’t dispel Ilic’s philosophical misgivings about assassinating the Archduke. He’d tried to express these doubts in a recent review he'd written of 'The Seven Who Were Hanged' by Leonid Andreyev. The book examined the meaning of death through the stories of seven people sentenced to die, five for a failed political assassination, and it looked at the spiritual crisis each underwent as they strove to overcome death in the name of a higher goal. It was a crisis that was mirrored in Ilic.

  Ilic was also uncertain as to whether now was the right time for such direct action. He shared the same view as his friend and mentor Vladimir Gacinovic, who was considered to be one of the key thinkers in the Young Bosnia movement. Gacinovic believed that there was a need to form a political party to fill the power vacuum that a revolution would cause. Only after this party was established should a political assassination be carried out to instigate a revolt.

  Lost in thought, Ilic barely registered the arrival of Major Tankosic's envoy, Djuro Sarac. Ilic understood that this was going to be more than a progress report if the Major had sent his former bodyguard and the person who’d been entrusted with Gavrilo’s training. They greeted each other and Sarac signalled for coffee. Ilic also realised it could be a golden opportunity to gain an insight into Gavrilo's capacity to commit tyrannicide.

  'You taught Gavrilo to shoot?' llic asked.

  'Yes,' Sarac answered tersely.

  'What were your impressions of him?' Ilic asked, as their coffee arrived. He looked at it wearily.

  'Gavrilo is a fair shot,' Sarac said noncommittally, placing a sugar cube in his coffee.

  'But do you think he will be able to act when the time comes?' Ilic decided to leave his coffee, dreading the corrosive effect it would have on his stomach.

  Sarac shrugged. 'Gavro is certainly driven, but you can never tell about a man until he’s placed in the moment.' Ilic's heart sank; Sarac's tone suggested that Gavrilo wouldn't falter.

  Sarac leaned forward. 'But that is neither here nor there. The central committee has ordered that the attempt on the Heir be cancelled.'

  Ilic couldn't believe it. This was more than he could have hoped for. 'How - why?' he asked.

  'The government has discovered the plot and is concerned about Austro-Hungarian reaction to such an outrage.'

  'I understand.' It was a qualm Ilic also harboured.

  'However, I've been told to tell you that this message does not come from the Major himself.'

  'I don't understand - who does it come from then?' Ilic had heard that Sarac had trained to be a priest before joining the Partisans. He judged from Sarac’s ability to dissemble that he might have done well in that vocation.

  'I was told to relay the decision of the central committee, but also to tell you that it wasn't the Major's choice.'

  Ilic was unsure whether this meant that Tankosic didn't back the decision to cancel and that they should continue, or just that the Major didn't agree with the decision. His ulcer began to settle. He decided that like most things told to him by a priest, he would ignore it.

  Chapter 25

  Johnny strolled along Appel Quay, enjoying the summer sunshine and trying desperately hard not to scratch his moustache, which was really starting to irritate. He’d grown it in an effort to blend in with Gavrilo and Ilic, but the thing itched remorselessly.

  The Young Bosnians didn't seem to go in for the big, bushy Empire moustache that he’d been unable to cultivate, but which his contemporaries in the Diplomatic Service twirled with effortless charm. They opted instead for pencil type efforts and keeping the thing in trim was proving to be extremely tedious. The worst part was that he couldn't stop self-consciously touching and smoothing it, making him feel like a gigolo.

  That idea inevitably caused his mind, with a lonely pang, to drift to Libby. The thought of her elegant contours and the journey they'd taken him on focused Johnny's mind and brought him back to the task at hand. He only had a small window of opportunity to act.

  Ilic was due back from one of his jaunts and Gavrilo had arranged to meet him on his return, with one of their out of town cronies. Johnny had been expected to go, but he'd told Gavrilo that he needed to see another relative about money. Gavro had understood, as he was also desperately short of cash, although he'd managed to borrow a few crowns from Ilic, a courtesy not extended to Johnny.

  He concluded his turn along the embankment and double backed on himself, heading for home, as he thought the coast should be clear by then. He briefly toyed with the idea of following the embankment up to City Hall and dropping in on Breitner; he wanted to see a friendly face, or at least a face that knew him for who he was. Breitner was the first person Johnny had met who he didn't have to pretend with and with whom he could truly be himself.

  He would have to find some way of contacting him eventually. If he walked into City Hall he was bound to be seen by someone. The last time he had arranged a meeting he’d gone to the police station above City Hall to register his arrival in Sarajevo and left a note for Breitner.

  He reached Lateiner Bridge and crossed the road, following Franz Josef
Street past Schillers' Deli and into the bustling back streets of the old town, rich with the scent of hookah pipes coming from the myriad of cafes. The shutters of the shops were open and their colourful wares spilled out onto the street like the blooms of flowers. He threaded his way around them and through the crowds of people, who were dressed in a kaleidoscope of traditional and western clothes.

  Johnny emerged into the central square of the old town, ringed by one storey shops. He stopped to have a drink at the mushroom shaped Sebilj Fountain, in the middle of the square and saw Ilic’s mother at one of the fruit and vegetable stalls. She went there at roughly the same time every day.

  He moved on. He knew there was no point in worrying about how to communicate with Breitner until he actually had something to tell him. He turned into the winding side street where his boarding house was. With Mrs Ilic out of the way, Johnny intended to take advantage of Gavrilo and Ilic's absence from the house to render the weapons 'safe'. He prayed that the other boarders would be about their business, as this was the best chance he was going to get for a while.

  The house was quiet and Johnny made his way to Ilic and Gavrilo's room. The door had been kept shut since they'd brought the weapons here, in order to dissuade Mrs Ilic from going in, but Johnny didn't think it was actually locked, so he turned the handle, cringing as it squeaked.

  He stopped dead as the door was pulled open by a burly chap with a trademark pencil moustache. Johnny involuntarily stroked his own moustache and glanced around the room. Gavrilo was sitting on his pull down bed and Ilic was standing in the centre of the room, trying to make an announcement. He glared at Johnny.

  'Sorry, I was hoping…' Johnny said, looking round at the books lining the walls and wishing he’d prepared an excuse beforehand. ‘After my recent journey with Danilo I realised how little I knew and wanted to educate myself about...'

  'Jovo, I thought you were seeing your uncle?' Gavrilo interrupted, before Johnny could get the rest of the tortured explanation out.

  'He wouldn't give me any money,' Johnny replied, automatically. 'Sorry to disturb you.' Johnny started to back out of the door.

  'Jovo, since you're here, you might as well stay. I have news,' Ilic said, trying to call things to order.

  'I would have knocked…' Johnny was too dazed to pay Ilic any attention. 'I thought you were meeting a friend, Gavrilo.'

  'And so I have.' Gavrilo pointed at the man who'd ripped the door out of Johnny's hand. 'Jovo, meet Trifko Grabez. Like you, I am helping him to shape his political views. He will be with us on Vidovdan.'

  Johnny and Trifko exchanged greetings. All might not be lost, Johnny thought - at least he knew who the other member of the cell was now.

  'So why are you here?' Johnny asked. 'You said you were going to a cafe. I was hoping to stay out of the way and hide my poverty.' He didn't have to make that up; he barely had the price of a coffee in his pocket.

  Ilic wasn't interested in Johnny's ability to think on his feet. 'What I have to say is of the gravest importance and I couldn't risk meeting Nedjo or his cohorts,' Ilic said, drawing their attention. 'Belgrade wants to cancel the attack.'

  Gavrilo's face darkened. 'What are you talking about?'

  'The central committee of Unity or Death has issued orders that we cancel the assassination,' Ilic answered.

  'Why?' Gavrilo was pale with shock. It was now clear to Johnny why they were here. Ilic wouldn't want someone as volatile as Nedjo present for the meeting; he was going to have his hands full with Gavrilo as it was

  'The Serbian Government has discovered the plot and is concerned about Austrian reaction if we succeed, or even attempt to assassinate Franz Ferdinand.'

  'There was nothing else?' Trifko asked, surprised. 'No other message, from Major Tankosic? He gave us his support.'

  'No,' Ilic said flatly, although Johnny thought he looked shifty.

  'I don't care what the Black Hand or that naive idiot Tankosic thinks,' Gavrilo said, starting to seethe. There was clearly no way he would submit to their authority. 'They may have given us help, but that doesn't mean we answer to them.'

  Ilic was nonplussed. He couldn't seem to believe that Gavrilo would refuse a direct order from the central committee. 'Gavro, please put your personal feelings aside and think. Are you sure that we're taking the correct course of action?'

  Trifko looked as if the ground had crumbled beneath him. This was challenging everything he’d been taught. 'Are you saying we no longer have the right to act, Ilic?'

  Ilic saw Trifko’s uncertainty. 'How do you reconcile the killing of a man? Your father is a priest - would he not say it is a sin? Have you no faith?’

  'My faith is a faith in the nation,' Trifko answered, although it sounded as if his resolve was starting to wane.

  'Have you thought what could happen to that nation if we succeed?' Ilic looked to Gavrilo. ‘What if Austro-Hungary seeks revenge against our people?'

  Gavrilo was in no mood to compromise. 'After me, let the deluge come.'

  Ilic managed to remain calm. 'Killing the Heir will achieve nothing and will provoke a reaction from the Austrians that will only increase the suffering of our people.'

  Trifko nodded. Ilic's words were striking home, but Gavrilo was unmoved. 'We must unite our people, whether by killing leading personages to ignite revolution, or by eliminating those who stand in the way of unification. The Archduke is the foremost enemy of the South Slavs. He is ruthlessly opposed to our unification and as the heir to the throne and Inspector General of the Army, he is responsible for the oppression and suffering of our people. I was one of nine children - six of them died because of the inequalities he perpetuates in his empire.'

  Trifko looked reassured by Gavrilo's words. Johnny thought it best to keep his mouth shut during this exchange; he didn't want to destroy his guise as a Young Bosnian and he doubted he could make much of a difference to the outcome of the argument. What Gavrilo was saying might come true if Franz Ferdinand became Emperor, but at present even as the Heir Apparent and the Inspector General, Franz Ferdinand didn't have a great deal of say in how the Monarchy was run. According to the accounts Johnny had heard from the British Embassy staff in Vienna, the Emperor kept him out of policy making as much as possible.

  Ilic stood his ground, although he was uncomfortable arguing like this with his best friend, over something he fundamentally agreed with. 'We need to build a political party… to lay foundations, Gavro, and expound the ideas of our cause, before attempting to incite a revolution.'

  Gavrilo was too angry to listen to any more of Ilic's abstract and convoluted arguments. 'Words have made you slack, Danilo. I need action. I have a certain morbid yearning awakening in me.'

  A cold feeling fluttered through Johnny. If the plot went ahead without Ilic's involvement, he'd have no way of finding out who the other conspirators were and he'd never get out of here. There was only one chance. 'Ilic, are you going to betray us?'

  Gavrilo nodded agreement. He couldn't bring himself to ask his friend outright, but Johnny was playing the hard man, someone who could do the dirty jobs.

  'You question my loyalty?' Rather than being angry, Ilic was terrified that he'd be thought a traitor.

  'You sound as if you're having second thoughts about what must be done,' Johnny said.

  'No, it's as Andreyev said. The death penalty confuses the conscience, even of resolute men. How can they face it? Unless at the cost of their rational consciousness, ravaged to the depths of their souls.'

  Ilic was obviously scared and Johnny couldn't blame him. If things went to plan he would die on the same day as the Heir’s visit to Sarajevo. Johnny had read Andreyev - he also said it would be impossible to live if a man knew exactly and definitely the day and hour of his death.

  'I am committed to our cause and will continue to take part, especially now everything is in place. We have the people and the means to carry out a great victory,' Ilic confirmed.

  'Are you sure the other cell is rea
dy?' Trifko asked.

  Ilic shrugged. 'They're very young, but you can't question their loyalty or commitment to the cause.'

  Johnny saw his chance to find out who they were. 'Could I join their cell? Maybe I could bolster them.'

  'I don't think so, Jovo. It is better to keep things separate,' Gavrilo said. 'Besides, you need to stay with us. I've got you a job.'

  'A job?' That threw Johnny.

  'Yes - you are short of money and like myself you have been borrowing. We must clear our debts next week and leave our affairs in order.'

  Johnny was taken aback. There was no way he was going to die next week, not when there was still that amazing belly dancer to consider. It would be very bad manners to die before he'd had a chance to charm her a little. That was one account he had no intention of leaving unsettled, even if he had to find some way of stopping the plot.

  *

  The cafe was crowded with people watching a loud folk band. Apis pushed his way through, searching the faces, hoping to recognise the man he'd come to meet. It was a hard task in the maelstrom of the live performance. Rade Malobabic was an undistinguished man, apart from his large feet. There seemed to be nothing about him that stood out, allowing him to blend in as he unobtrusively went about his business, gathering information. It was an ability that had enabled him to become Apis’s chief intelligence man in the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy.

  Apis found Malobabic as he sat lightly tapping his big feet in time to the music. Apis had felt it was more discreet to meet him in a cafe rather than his office, where government spies could monitor his visitors. To an observer, he would be passing pleasantries with a grey, middle-aged man as they enjoyed the show. Malobabic had come a long way to make his report. It was too important to be trusted to the usual means of communication and Apis didn't want to run the risk of anything getting back to Prime Minister Pasic.

  Malobabic carried on watching the band as Apis sat at the table next to him. 'The Serbian Minister in Vienna has paid a visit to Count Bilinski and expressed fears about the Archduke’s visit to Sarajevo,' Malobabic said.