Passions of War

by Hilary Green

  ‘You can’t just turn up there and expect no one to smell a rat!’ Tom exclaimed.

  ‘Not as the British military attaché, no. I can’t go in uniform, so I’m going to pose as an English student travelling in Europe during the summer vacation.’

  ‘But surely you’ll be recognized?’

  Ralph rubbed his chin. ‘What do you think this is all in aid of?’

  ‘You really think growing a beard will be enough?’

  ‘Look, I’ve never been introduced to these chaps. Tankovic always hustles them off to a private room. They have only seen me from a distance, and in uniform. I’m just the British officer who hangs around playing cards with Tankovic and his friends. I don’t suppose they’ve given me a second thought. Why should they connect me with a scruffy, bearded student?’

  ‘Aren’t we a bit long in the tooth to be students?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Not in this part of the world. Being a student is a way of life here. People often go on until they are thirty or more.’

  Tom sat back with a sigh. He knew it would be pointless to argue any more. Ralph had made up his mind and once he was set on some mad escapade there was no deflecting him. All he could do was go along and try to limit the damage.

  Three

  Madame Illic’s boarding house was located in one of the less salubrious areas of Sarajevo but the room she showed them into was clean and adequately, if sparsely furnished. All the other rooms were taken but she made no objection to Tom sharing with Ralph. The prospect of sleeping with him in the one big double bed sent a shiver through Tom’s nerves but Ralph seemed happy to accept it.

  ‘It fits in with the picture we want to present, of two impoverished students hiking round Europe,’ he pointed out.

  They had dressed accordingly, though Tom had been forced to allow a good pair of trousers to be rubbed in the dirt and a shirt collar deliberately frayed. The rest of their essential requirements had been stuffed into two well-worn rucksacks that Ralph had acquired by some means.

  Ralph threw his on to the bed. ‘Right. Let’s go and have a wander round and get our bearings.’

  As they descended the stairs they heard voices in the hallway below and Ralph gripped Tom’s arm and pulled him to a standstill. Two men crossed the hall and went out of the front door: one tallish and around thirty years old, Tom guessed; the other a thin, dark-haired youth.

  ‘That’s them,’ Ralph whispered when they had gone out. ‘The tall one is Illic and the other is Princip, the wild-eyed fanatic I told you about. Let’s follow and see where they go.’

  The two men led them to a café a few streets away. It was evening and the streets were busy with people going home from work or strolling out to enjoy the coolness after a hot summer day. It was not difficult to keep their quarry in sight without making it obvious that they were being followed. The restaurants and cafés were filling up but they found a table in a corner where they could see Illic and Princip, who had been joined by a third man in working clothes with a narrow, dark face. The three leaned close together, talking earnestly, but Tom and Ralph were too far away to hear what was being said. After about an hour, they left and made their way back to the boarding house. Once inside, the three disappeared into Madame Illic’s private sitting room, leaving Tom and Ralph as the only occupants of the small, dark lounge that was available for guests. It was not long, however, before the door bell rang and Tom saw, through the half-open lounge door, two more men being admitted by Illic and taken through to the private room.

  Ralph got to his feet. ‘That’s two more of them – Grabez and Cabrinovic. I’ve seen them all hanging around Tankovic and the other Black Handers in Belgrade. I’m right, Tom! Something is about to happen. If only we could hear what’s going on in that room!’

  Before Tom could protest he slipped out into the hall and crept towards the door of the private room. After a moment, he beckoned urgently and Tom joined him.

  ‘Listen!’ Ralph whispered.

  Tom strained his ears. At first all he could hear was a mumble of voices, then the sound of a heavy piece of furniture being moved, followed by an excited babble, quickly suppressed. Then, quite distinctly, he heard Illic say, ‘Here, Gavrilo, you take this one. Careful! It’s loaded!’

  Ralph met his eyes and jerked his head back towards the lounge. Once there, he whispered, ‘He’s distributing guns! Now we’ve got something definite to go on.’

  ‘So far we’ve only got what we think we have heard through a closed door,’ Tom pointed out. ‘It’s their word against ours.’

  ‘True,’ Ralph agreed. ‘We need to catch one of them actually in possession of a weapon. The only solution I can think of is if we can get one of them on his own, take him by surprise and search him. Then we could drag him in front of the authorities and get them to arrest the others.’

  ‘That’s crazy, Ralph!’ Tom objected. ‘How are we going to overpower a man armed with a gun?’

  ‘He’s not the only one with a weapon,’ Ralph replied, patting his pocket. ‘You don’t really think I left my own pistol behind, do you?’

  At that moment they heard the door of the private room open and footsteps crossed the hall. There was a confusion of voices: ‘Goodnight’, ‘Take care’, ‘Till tomorrow’. Then Illic’s voice: ‘You all know your stations. Make sure you are there in good time. Courage, boys! Not long now.’

  The front door slammed and they heard Illic and Princip return to the private room.

  ‘Quick!’ Ralph said. ‘After them!’

  Before Tom could object he was heading for the front door. Outside it was now dark, except for the glow of infrequent street lights, but they were in time to see the three conspirators turning the corner at the end of the street.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Tom asked, as they followed.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ was the terse reply.

  They followed the three down the street until they turned abruptly and disappeared from view. When they reached the place, Tom saw that they had gone down a narrow alley where the houses on either side blocked out all but the faintest gleam of starlight.

  ‘Ralph, this is stupid!’ he said, as his friend plunged into the alley after them, but Ralph took no notice. The three men, who were all wearing dark clothes, had almost vanished but Tom could hear their footsteps moving away. Then they seemed to come to a halt and he perceived a blacker darkness ahead and realized suddenly that the alley ended in a blank wall. Ralph saw it at the same instant and came to a halt, but it was too late. There was movement behind them and a torch was turned on, focusing first on Tom and then on Ralph.

  Illic’s voice spoke from the shadow behind the light. ‘You fool! Did you imagine that I would not recognize you because you have grown a beard?’

  Tom looked at Ralph and had a ridiculous impulse to say, ‘There, you see? What did I tell you?’ But the words were immediately suppressed by the sight of a gun barrel glinting in the torchlight. Princip was standing beside Illic, his weapon trained on Ralph. Tom felt the others move closer behind him and cold metal prodded his ribs.

  Ralph was saying, in English, ‘I don’t understand. I’m a student from England. What is this all about?’

  Illic either did not understand or chose to ignore the remark. ‘Search them!’

  Hands quested through Tom’s pockets and patted his body. A similar search soon produced Ralph’s pistol. ‘British army issue!’ Illic said. ‘As I expected. Move!’

  The gun in Tom’s ribs gave a sharp jab and he moved forwards. Together they headed back towards Illic’s house, the men they had been following clustering close around them to conceal the weapons pressed into their backs. In the house, Illic opened a door that revealed a steep flight of steps leading down to what Tom assumed was a cellar. There was no light, and he almost missed his footing at the bottom and stumbled into Ralph, earning a muttered curse from one of his captors. He could hear Illic groping around and then the sound of a match being struck and a single candle
guttered into life.

  ‘Sit!’ Illic barked, and Tom was pushed down on to what felt like a barrel, with Ralph close by. Illic lifted the candle and stood over them.

  ‘Do you think I haven’t noticed you hanging around Tankovic in Belgrade?’ he asked Ralph. ‘I didn’t realize you were a spy until I saw you this afternoon in the café. What did you think you were going to do?’

  Ralph shook his head, still pretending incomprehension. ‘Look here, I don’t know what all this is about, but we are British citizens. You won’t get away with kidnapping us.’

  For answer Illic struck him hard across the mouth with the butt of his gun. ‘Stop this! I know you understand Serbian, and speak it. You masquerade as a British officer, but you are a spy. Who are you working for? Tell me! What are you doing here? Who sent you?’

  ‘No one,’ Ralph answered in Serbian. ‘I knew you were up to something and I wanted to find out what it was.’

  ‘What are we wasting time for?’ Princip said, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. ‘Shoot them and have done with it.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Illic answered. ‘I don’t believe they are acting alone. We need to find out who else knows about us.’ He turned on Tom. ‘You! Who are you? Where do you fit in?’

  Tom had had time to think and had spent it desperately trying to concoct a story that might at least buy them a little time. ‘You have got it wrong,’ he said. ‘He’s not the spy. I am. My masters in London have heard rumours about the Black Hand and its intentions. They sent me here with a message for you. Britain and Serbia are allies, but if you are responsible for an act that plunges us into a war we will withdraw our support. Serbia will be left to fight alone. Is that what you want?’

  For a second he thought he saw Illic’s eyes flicker and he felt the other men stir uneasily in the darkness. Then Illic said, ‘Why should we care? We have other allies. We defeated the Turks and the Bulgarians. We can defeat Austria.’

  ‘And suppose Britain were to throw her support behind the Austrians?’ Tom said. He knew it was an impossible scenario but he had seen that faint shadow of doubt in Illic’s eyes. ‘My government might be prepared to turn a blind eye to regicide and remain neutral as long as its own citizens are not involved. But my masters know where I am and who I am investigating. If we were to be harmed they might take a very different view.’

  ‘He’s bluffing!’ Princip insisted. ‘Shoot them. None of this will matter tomorrow.’

  ‘Not to us, perhaps,’ Illic said. ‘But we are not acting for our own benefit. As you say, after tomorrow it will not matter who they tell. We are not butchers. Why should we stain our sacred cause with their blood? They can do us no harm locked in here. Come, we should get some sleep.’

  He turned and made his way to the stairs and after a moment’s hesitation the others followed. At the top of the steps Illic turned back. ‘Goodnight, gentlemen. Sleep well. We shall not meet again.’

  The five men went out and Tom heard the door slammed shut and the sound of bolts being shot home. In the faint light of the candle he stood up and turned to Ralph.

  ‘By God, Ralph, you’ve got me into some pretty messes before this, but this is the last time, I swear it!’

  Ralph came closer and gripped his arm. ‘All I can say is thank God I brought you with me. That was a brilliant piece of play-acting. I didn’t know you had it in you.’

  Tom lowered himself back on to the barrel. ‘Nor did I,’ he said, shakily.

  Ralph took the candle and climbed the steps and Tom heard him testing the door, shaking it and putting his weight against it. ‘It’s no good,’ he said at length. ‘It’s rock solid. We’ll never break that down.’

  He came down again and began to feel his way around the cellar, running his hands over the walls. Eventually he returned to sit by Tom. ‘That’s the only way out. We’re stuck here till someone lets us out.’

  ‘What do you think Illic meant when he said we should not meet again?’ Tom asked, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

  ‘And all that about it not mattering after tomorrow,’ Ralph said, nodding. ‘I’m afraid there’s only one interpretation. They plan to assassinate the archduke and then commit suicide.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘It seems like it. They have a hero to imitate. Four years ago a man called Zerajic tried to assassinate the Governor of Bosnia. He missed and then put a bullet into his own brain. Boys like Princip see him as a martyr. Besides, Tankovic wouldn’t want anyone left alive to implicate him. He’s probably provided them with the means for a quick death.’

  ‘You do realize what that could mean for us?’ Tom said. ‘They are the only people who know we are here. If they are all dead . . .’

  ‘Cheer up,’ Ralph patted his arm. ‘Once we’re sure they are out of the way we can kick up such a row that his mother is bound to hear us. There’s no point until then. It might prompt Princip to come back and carry out his threats. I suggest we make ourselves as comfortable as we can and try to get some sleep.’

  After grovelling around on the dusty floor for a while Ralph came upon some old sacks that smelt powerfully of stale beer and they lay down on them side by side. Ralph curled himself against Tom’s back and put his arm across him.

  ‘Might as well keep each other as warm as we can,’ he said.

  There was little sleep for either of them. Before long the candle burnt out, leaving them in pitch darkness. The floor was hard and cold in spite of the sacking and now they were silent they could hear rustlings and scufflings all around them. Once Tom felt something run across his legs. The hours passed slowly but eventually Tom surfaced from a deeper doze and saw that the cellar was no longer completely dark. Away at the far end there was a faint gleam of light that seemed to be coming from the roof. Ralph was asleep, snoring faintly, so Tom got up carefully and groped his way towards the light. Looking up, he saw that it was coming through a small crack and that what he had taken for a solid ceiling was, at that point, made up of boards. At that moment he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps above his head and then what sounded like wheels.

  He returned to where Ralph was lying and shook him awake. ‘Listen, I think I may have found a way out.’

  Ralph sat up immediately. ‘Where? How?’

  ‘Over here.’ Tom led him to the point where the light was filtering in. ‘You know what I think? This was once a beer cellar. It certainly smells like one and there are barrels here. Think of pubs at home. How does the beer get delivered?’

  ‘Oh, I’m with you!’ Ralph exclaimed. ‘There’s a trapdoor in the pavement outside and when the brewer’s dray arrives they just open the trap and roll the barrels down into the cellar. So that trapdoor leads straight out on to the street.’

  ‘If I’m right,’ Tom agreed.

  ‘I’m certain you are! What time is it?’

  ‘Just after six a.m.’

  ‘So not too many people about yet, with any luck. Do you think we can force that trap open?’

  ‘I won’t know till we try. First of all we have to find a way of reaching it.’

  A further search of the cellar in the faint light revealed several empty barrels but even when standing on one neither of them could reach the trapdoor. They piled one on another and Tom made a stirrup out of his hands so that Ralph could climb on to them. That was far from ideal because now he was too high up and had to work in a semi-crouching position, but at least he was able to find the two bolts that held the door.

  ‘They’re rusted solid,’ he reported. ‘It’s going to be the devil’s own job getting them free.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Tom said. He groped around until he found the remains of the candle sitting in a puddle of congealed wax. ‘Try working some of this into them.’

  It took the two of them, working in turn, over an hour to free the bolts but eventually Ralph was able to report, ‘Right, I can move them now. But when I pull them out the trap will drop down and it will be open to the street.’

&nbs
p; ‘Just pray no one is about to walk across,’ Tom said. ‘Otherwise they might be joining us down here, with a broken leg.’

  ‘Pray Princip or one of the others isn’t standing guard with his gun ready,’ Ralph retorted. ‘When I open the trap, we need to be out as fast as we can. I’ll climb out and then pull you up. Can you manage that?’

  ‘I’ll have to,’ Tom said.

  ‘Ready, steady, go!’ Ralph said, and pulled out both bolts. The trapdoor dropped open with a creak of hinges, showering Tom with dust, and Ralph grabbed the edges of the opening and hauled himself up. His efforts dislodged the top barrel and Tom had to jump aside to avoid it. He heard a small scream and a woman’s voice raised in remonstration and Ralph’s apology in mangled Serbian. Then Ralph leaned into the hole and stretched out his arm.

  ‘Come on, quick!’

  Tom climbed on to the barrel that remained in place, grabbed Ralph’s hand and jumped. His free hand reached the wooden frame round the opening, and he felt splinters pierce the flesh. He hung for a moment, kicking his legs, then Ralph hauled him up till he lay like a stranded fish across the edge of the trapdoor. He scrambled to his feet and looked round. There were few people about, and he remembered that it was Sunday. Two women, on their way, he guessed, to early mass, looked curiously in their direction but no one seemed inclined to question them.

  Ralph was peering into the cellar. ‘I don’t see how we can fasten the trapdoor back in place, so anyone from the house would see at once that we had escaped. The best thing we can do is get away as quickly as we can and try to blend in with the crowd.’

  ‘Once we’re on the train for Belgrade we should be safe enough, shouldn’t we?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Train? We can’t just get on the train. For God’s sake, Tom! There’s an assassination about to take place, unless we can find a way to stop it.’

  Tom choked back a protest. ‘All right. What do you suggest we do?’

  ‘Inform the authorities. We must have enough proof now to convince them to take action.’