The Assassins

by Alan Bardos

  'Has he warned him of the plot?' Apis asked, wondering if perhaps the government hadn't been entirely bluffed by the cancellation order, or if he had a spy in his ranks.

  'No, not outright. The good Minister said that the Heir should be careful when he goes to Bosnia. Some nonsense about a young Serb putting a live bullet in his gun rather than a blank and then firing it.'

  Apis nodded. He could imagine the Minister, bogging himself down in double talk, trying to warn of a plot, but not wanting to make it too obvious in case it looked as if the Serbian Government were involved. 'What did the Austro-Hungarian Joint Minister of Finance make of that?'

  'Not a lot. It was a very vague comment and could even have been interpreted as a veiled threat, but from what my sources tell me, Bilinski's feathers have been ruffled by the visit. It was organised by the Military Governor who completely bypassed his Ministry, so Bilinski has washed his hands of the whole affair.'

  Apis smiled. If that was the best Pasic could do there was nothing that could stop the operation now. 'Good work, Rade.'

  'There was one more thing. I have a regular chess opponent at the British Embassy in Vienna - the usual arrogant, self-assured type of diplomat. He's been a great source of information.' Apis nodded impatiently; the longer their conversation lasted, the greater the risk of discovery by the Prime Minister’s spies.

  'The last time we played, he was extremely unhappy. A woman he'd been mooning around after for weeks had decided to go off to Sarajevo. She is the wife of a senior English diplomat.'

  'Why would such a woman go to Sarajevo?'

  'Apparently, she was pursuing some Englishman, a 'bad sort', who’s been sent to Sarajevo by the British Embassy in Paris on something unofficial.'

  'What sort of unofficial - an operation?' Apis asked, concerned.

  'That's just it. Pinkie couldn't find out. He has an extensive network of contacts throughout the British Diplomatic Service, but his enquiries couldn't locate the woman or the man she was pursuing. She may not even have gone to Sarajevo yet. No one knows anything. He's been erased, almost as if he's been sent to do something clandestine… something deniable and off the books.'

  'You think it might be connected with the Archduke’s visit to Sarajevo?' Apis asked.

  'Why else would anyone be interested in the Balkans, just when we have an important operation in progress?'

  Apis turned and spoke directly to Malobabic. He was too concerned by what he'd heard to stick to security procedures. If his government had tried to warn the Austrians, he thought it possible that they'd told the British and hadn't been quite so circumspect about it. Perhaps the British feared any further diplomatic tension, which might bring the Russians into the Balkans, threatening British interests in the Mediterranean.

  'Rade, I want you to go to Sarajevo and stop this Englishman from interfering with the operation.' Apis wouldn't have the so called ‘great powers’ making sport of him or his organisation. 'Be careful - we have no idea what kind of man we're dealing with.'

  Chapter 26

  Archduke Franz Ferdinand finished his breakfast with little enthusiasm; his usual two boiled eggs were barely touched. He drank his tea and surveyed the grounds of Chlumetz through the bars of the nursery’s window. It might not be as impressive as Konopiste, he reflected, but the attractive baroque chateau had a homely feel to it.

  He loved to take breakfast with his family in the nursery and afterwards he’d often stay to read over the newspapers and enjoy the chaos his children created, while Sophie maintained a relaxed order to it all.

  Today Franz Ferdinand abandoned any attempt to read the news and remained a little longer than normal. He had a thousand and one matters to attend to, but he was reluctant to leave his family.

  He looked at his children in their white sailor suits, as they ate their breakfast, oblivious to the turmoil he was feeling over leaving them. Little Sophie was thirteen, Maxi twelve and Ernie, ten. They were fine looking, intelligent children and a source of unending joy and pride to the Archduke.

  The bliss he felt at that moment overwhelmed him. Franz Ferdinand never ceased to be amazed by how much he loved them. He yearned to stay and spend the long summer days taking them hunting or on long walks and then in the evenings, to watch Sophie do her embroidery while the children played, trying their best not to knock things over.

  Janaczek brought in his mail and stood watching, until Franz Ferdinand glanced at him. ‘Excuse me, Your Highness, the preparations for your departure are nearly complete.’

  ‘Thank you, Janaczek,’ Franz Ferdinand said in a flat tone. He knew there was no point in worrying what disaster fate might bring, but he couldn't shake off a feeling of apprehension about the trip to Bosnia.

  'Papi, why are you going? Maxi, his eldest son asked. ‘When the Emperor said you don’t have to, he said you can do as you see fit!'

  Ernie and Sophie looked round at their father with worried expressions and Franz Ferdinand saw that he hadn’t hidden his feelings from his children as well as he’d hoped.

  He took a deep breath. He had infinite patience when it came to his children, but they were old enough to understand duty. 'I am Inspector General of the Austro-Hungarian Armed Forces. I must go to Sarajevo. Do you think the soldiers would understand my absence if I wasn’t there?'

  Franz Ferdinand had tried to sound cheery, but Maxi would not be put off. 'But when the Emperor went to Bosnia, he was stalked by that madman, Zerajic, who tried to shoot the Governor.'

  'They say he got close enough to touch the Emperor,' Ernest added, with scared eyes.

  'It was a miracle that he didn’t shoot,' little Sophie said, making her father wince. As secluded as the lives of his children were, they still managed to find such things out. 'We cannot allow our feelings to govern us. If we did we would never be able to do anything, a prisoner to our slightest doubt and hesitation. And then how could I make a good Emperor?'

  Maxi tried to continue but his mother cut him off. 'Enough of this, children. Maxi, your only concern should be whether or not you have passed your exam. Now, all of you leave your poor father in peace.’

  Franz Ferdinand watched from his study window as their luggage for the visit to Bosnia was loaded. All of the arrangements had been attended to, except one.

  He turned from the window and faced Janaczek, who was standing formally, sensing the gravity of the moment. He'd been a good and faithful servant for twenty five years.

  'Janaczek, there is no one I'd trust more to run things in my absence,' Franz Ferdinand said, and he presented him with a gold watch.

  'Thank you, Your Highness.' The Archduke’s estate manager knew that the watch was more than a recognition of service.

  'I'd like to ask that you never leave my household, Janaczek. Even if something should happen to me, you must never leave the children or the Duchess.'

  'Never, Your Highness.' Janaczek bowed formally. No further declaration was needed - Janaczek would do his duty.

  Franz Ferdinand shook his hand and headed to the hall to make his farewells. He drew himself up, as he saw his children huddled around their mother, but instead of more protests they threw their arms around him.

  'We'll be back in a week,' he whispered, drawing them close.

  Chapter 27

  Johnny finished his baklava and looked up contentedly. Something nice before a day in the office always cheered him up. The same couldn't be said for Gavrilo, who was sitting next to him, calm and impassive, his eyes burning with their usual ferocity, as he studied the Bosnische Post.

  Johnny signalled for the bill to Vlajnic, the owner of the pastry shop, and turned back to Gavrilo. The official programme for the Royal visit had been published in all of Sarajevo's major newspapers, heralding the arrival of the Heir.

  He was to attend two days of manoeuvres and a large formal dinner on Saturday, followed by a visit to Sarajevo on Sunday. The full details of the visit to Sarajevo had been released to the press, as the Lord Mayor wanted t
o ensure that the people of Sarajevo knew where to stand so that they could give the Archduke a resounding welcome and show their, "gratitude, devotion and loyalty" to the Monarchy. From the way he was studying the paper, Johnny assumed Gavrilo was deciding just how he would do that.

  Johnny winked at the waitress as she brought over the bill. Gavrilo glowered at him and apologised to the waitress for Johnny's ill-mannered behaviour. 'Jovo - how dare you be so disrespectful, to a woman?'

  'I'm sorry, Gavrilo - she's very pretty,' Johnny replied, trying to sound submissive. Gavrilo and Ilic had continued to argue about the rights and wrongs of the assassination and Johnny didn't want to aggravate Gavrilo any more than was necessary. He still had a job to do.

  'Relations between a man and a woman should be of the purest kind,' Gavrilo said curtly.

  'As is yours with Vukosava?' Johnny asked.

  Gavrilo's cold blue eyes stared at Johnny with controlled fury. 'My relationship with Miss Cabrinovic is strictly platonic, based on a mutual respect and appreciation of poetry and literature. Anything else would trifle with her dignity.'

  'I meant no offence.'

  'We have sworn off such things, Jovo. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted, not now that we are so close to the end.'

  Johnny assumed that Gavrilo wanted the strength and purity of a cause, not the uncertainties and vulnerability which the love of a woman offered. It seemed that to Gavrilo, everything was superfluous to the journey he was on.

  'I know it's not really my place, Gavrilo, as I'm still new to the group, but can we afford distractions that are closer to home?'

  Gavrilo glared as Johnny continued. 'I must tell you that I support your decision to act against the Archduke and that Ilic is totally wrong to question the course we must take.'

  'That is not your concern, Jovo.' Gavrilo said, annoyed by Johnny's comment.

  'Surely, the fate of our people is everyone's concern.'

  'Ilic is my best friend. He has given me his word that he'll work with us.'

  'I'm worried about the other cell,' Johnny said. 'What do you know about them?'

  'Ilic has assured me that they are good patriots.'

  Johnny thought he could sense an element of uncertainty in Gavrilo's voice. He’d been waiting for an opportunity to exploit the growing rift between Ilic and Gavrilo, and he decided to press on.

  'I do not doubt their sincerity to our cause. It's just that if the only contact they have with us is through Ilic, can they be relied upon? Who knows what Ilic is saying to them.'

  Johnny waited as Gavrilo thought that over. Ilic was nothing if not an idealist and once he'd had an idea about something, it was almost impossible to change his mind.

  'Perhaps I could be of more help to you,' Johnny suggested, 'if I were to keep an eye on him and the other cell, as we prepare for Sunday.'

  Gavrilo shrugged noncommittally. 'Trifko is coming to Sarajevo tomorrow. We'll discuss the matter then.'

  Johnny knew that was the best he could hope for. Gavrilo paid the bill and they left, walking out onto Cumurija Street and up towards Appel Quay. A triangular shaped baroque building had been constructed at the end of the street, next to some old Turkish houses and a cafe. They followed a narrow stretch of road on the left hand side of the building and came out into the bright light of Appel Quay, opposite the steel Cumurija Bridge and carried on around the corner past a bank of Austro-Hungary.

  Gavrilo stopped under the shade of a tree and surveyed the long line of new, neo-romantic Austrian buildings that ran along the embankment. 'Sarajevo isn't an honourable place to make our sacrifice. It's just one, big Austrian market.'

  Johnny gazed wistfully at a tobacconist's, its yellow paintwork making it look nicotine stained next to the white-washed bank gleaming in the early morning sunshine. He wondered if he had enough money to buy something that would help him get through the day. It was going to be a long one, by the sound of it. He checked his pockets but there was barely enough to buy a box of matches.

  'Would you like some matches, Gavro?' Johnny asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  Gavrilo gave him a disgusted look. 'If I could afford a box of matches I would set Sarajevo on fire.'

  'That's one way of getting out of going to work, I suppose.'

  Gavrilo ignored Johnny and they continued on to a large, elegant building next to the tobacconist's. It had a statue on the roof, of what Johnny took to be Athena, the goddess of poetry and knowledge, sitting on a chair dispensing wisdom to Serb children. It was very different to the Imperial depiction he'd seen of the goddess outside the Austrian Parliament building. He was briefly reminded of the cab ride with Libby down the Ringstrasse and the promise he’d made her.

  'How is it that you have never heard of Prosvjeta before?' Gavrilo asked, studying Johnny curiously, as they entered the building. 'You said you received a scholarship to study.'

  'The church was of some assistance,' Johnny replied, then shrugged, embarrassed, and started to climb the stairs to their office. He had no idea which organisations provided Serbian students with scholarships. The scholarship he'd won had come from the school and the church council. Prosvjeta or 'Enlightenment', as he'd recently learnt, was a cultural society for the development of Serbs through education and gave support to poor but gifted students. They'd helped among others, Gavrilo and Bogdan Zerajic.

  Gavrilo and Johnny reached their desks and settled down for a day at work. Gavrilo had managed to find himself and Johnny jobs at Prosvjeta through its Secretary General, who paid them fifteen crowns each to copy out minutes of meetings, which Johnny told Gavrilo would be enough to pay off his debts.

  Johnny had done very little else to further his cause in the last week before the Archduke’s visit to Sarajevo. It was Thursday and he had been well and truly seduced back into the monotony of meaningless work. He was starting to wonder if he should stop gambling and womanising, and accept that he'd be perfectly happy spending the rest of his life engaged in simple clerical tasks.

  The stark reality was that he couldn't have hacked it, even if he'd wanted to. He kept making mistakes. The chief administrator had already questioned his work several times. If one thing was for sure, Johnny would have to find some way of making this agreement with Breitner work, as he couldn't go back to the way his life was before.

  'This work is of the highest importance, Jovo. Prosvjeta gave me a chance - we must do the same for the next generation,' Gavrilo said, seeing how bored Johnny was.

  'You value education more than the great work we are doing for our people?' Johnny asked.

  'Education has always been important to me. I was a very earnest child - I hardly played with the other children in my village. Even before I went to school I'd follow our cows and make believe I was going to school, with a bag full of books. My father wanted me to be a shepherd, but my mother took my part and I went to school eventually, when I was nine.'

  Johnny looked at Gavrilo's small hands and slight frame, and wondered if he would have survived the harsh conditions of a peasant farmer. 'You were lucky that your father supported you as far as high school.'

  Gavrilo shrugged. 'It wasn't easy. The peasants are crippled with taxes and rents, but my brother saw the potential of my education as a means of social advancement, rather than its true purpose of enlightening the people. When he was no longer willing to support me I managed to get a small stipend from Prosvjeta.'

  Johnny smiled sympathetically. He was starting to feel comfortable in his role as an informant. He’d gradually begun to win Gavrilo's confidence and he was opening up to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny suddenly caught sight of a blurred vision of loveliness and he got up instantly.

  He'd have recognised that nimble figure anywhere, even restricted by layers of whalebone. It was the belly dancer he'd seen with Breitner, gliding effortlessly through his office on the arm of a rich old industrialist. If Johnny had believed in such things, he'd have said he was in love.

  The man sh
e was with went into the chief administrator's office without knocking, leaving her outside and unguarded. Johnny didn't miss a beat. 'Good afternoon, Miss...?' Johnny left the last part of the sentence hanging, hoping that she'd fill in the gap, but she just arched her eyebrow questioningly.

  'Good afternoon, Mr...?' she replied, leaving the last part of her sentence to hang too. Johnny choked - even if he could have remembered what his name was, he'd never have been able to say it. She was truly beguiling.

  'Didn't we meet the other night?' he managed to ask.

  Her amber eyes flashed the same mocking look that she’d given him in the park and the cafe. She recognised him, there was no doubt about it. Johnny couldn't believe he hadn't followed her through the side door in the cafe.

  'I'm sorry I wasn't able to join you, but I had a rather pressing matter to attend to.' Whatever it was, Johnny couldn't remember now.

  'We have met.' Her eyes were willing him to say where.

  'In a cafe - you were performing. Although that wasn’t the first time we’d met…’

  'Sir, you seem to have mistaken me. I've never seen you before.' She smiled, making Johnny feel dizzy.

  'Just what the hell's going on here?' A harsh voice brought him back to the here and now.

  The industrialist and the chief administrator were standing behind him. 'I asked you a question, boy,' the industrialist said. For the first time in his life, Johnny was caught without a flippant reply. She'd well and truly scuppered him.

  'This "gentleman" was insinuating that I'd performed in some sleazy hovel. Like… like a common trollop! He even had the impertinence to suggest that we were acquainted.' She turned her head away from them and winked, so that only Johnny could see it.

  The chief administrator had a face like death. 'Get out! How dare you insult the daughter of one of our leading benefactors?'

  The industrialist blew cigar smoke in Johnny's face. Johnny looked around in disbelief; he couldn't understand how this had happened. The whole office was looking at him, but it was Gavrilo's cold eyes that stood out.