by Alan Bardos
However, Trifko wasn't so sure he could bring himself to do anything, Ilic's arguments had thrown him into confusion. Trifko had walked around in the park trying to find Princip and gather his thoughts. In the end, he felt he must take part in the attack. When Trifko heard the explosion, he relaxed, assuming that the others had been successful.
Then, when the first two cars of the motorcade zoomed past, Trifko knew he would have to act and he readied his weapons. He looked at the crowd - there were a lot of old people and children who'd be hurt in the blast. He saw an acquaintance and as they greeted each other, Trifko froze as it dawned on him that if he attacked the tyrant, his friend would be implicated.
He watched, unable to act, as the Royal car went past.
*
Johnny mingled in the crowd, trying to avoid the photographers and police who were out in force at the scene of the explosion. There was no sign of Cubrilovic or the others, or the man who'd tripped him up with his bloody great feet. Johnny had half expected an apology.
He was slightly dazed and he couldn't understand why the bomb hadn't gone off when it hit the Archduke’s car, if it hadn't been the spiked one. Johnny supposed that Nedjo had been too carried away to count to ten before throwing his bomb.
The bomb had exploded by the left back wheel of the car it had rolled under, badly damaging its underside and blowing a hole about a foot wide and six inches deep in the granite road. The passengers from the car were being treated at the doctor's surgery and it looked as if about twenty people had been injured altogether, but Johnny was relieved to see the Royal car drive off up the quay, the feathers of the Archduke’s hat flapping in the wind.
Johnny thought he saw Libby enter the Bank of Austro-Hungary, on the corner of Cumurija Street and he debated whether or not to go and see her. In the end, he decided to follow the Archduke - there would be time to make things up with Libby later but he had to get to City Hall. He'd done it somehow; he’d saved the Archduke's life and now he had to claim his reward.
Chapter 36
Breitner held on to the side of the Archduke’s car for dear life. He hadn't been so scared since he'd left the Seventh Hussars. The sense of balance he'd developed riding horses in those turbulent years, stood him in good stead now, as the car rushed towards Appel Quay.
His hand had been scratched by a bomb fragment; it wasn't a serious wound but it was bleeding a lot. One of the Duchess’s ladies in waiting had given him a handkerchief, so he was able to cling to the Royal car without leaving a bloody handprint.
The bomb attack had taken Breitner by surprise, coming from the wrong side of the embankment, and he felt that the least he could do now was to protect the Archduke until he reached safety.
Colonel von Merizzi, the Governor's aide-de-camp, who'd been keeping a watchful eye on Breitner up until then, wasn't so lucky and had received a nasty gash on the side of his head.
Breitner grinned sombrely - he should have known that Johnny couldn't be trusted to spike the bombs. At least the plot was out in the open, Breitner mused and there couldn't be any more blatant evidence of a plan to assassinate the Archduke. All that remained was to ensure that Franz Ferdinand stayed locked away while the army was called in to clear the streets and then to get him safely out of Sarajevo.
The car arrived at City Hall without further incident and with some relief, Breitner leapt off the running board to allow the Royal couple to alight from the car. The Lord Mayor of Sarajevo, Fehim Effendi Curcic, was standing at the head of Sarajevo's leading religious and civic representatives, who were lined up on either side of the red carpeted steps, in ascending order of importance.
For a moment, Breitner thought that the Lord Mayor had gone mad. He was continuing the Archduke's visit, as if nothing had happened. Breitner observed the scene with growing dismay, as the Royal couple reached the top of the steps and the Lord Mayor proceeded to give his prepared speech of welcome.
'Your Imperial and Royal Highnesses - our hearts are full of happiness on the occasion of the most gracious visit with which Your Highnesses have deigned to honour the capital of our land...'
'Herr Burgermeister!' the Archduke interrupted him. The calming shock of the explosion had gone and the Archduke was in full fury. 'I came to Sarajevo on a friendly visit and I get bombs thrown at me. It's outrageous!'
The Lord Mayor looked stunned. He'd been in the second car of the motorcade, which had carried on along Appel Quay after the bomb had gone off. Breitner presumed the Lord Mayor must have thought the explosion was part of the twenty four gun salute.
Sophie pressed her husband's arm and whispered something to him, as he continued to berate the hapless Mayor. To Breitner, at the bottom of the steps, it sounded like, 'Franzi-Franzi.' Whatever it was, it soothed the Archduke. Breitner wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it for himself. The Archduke’s infamous rage had been tamed by a firm hand and a reassuring word.
Franz Ferdinand nodded to the Lord Mayor, 'Oh, well - you can get on with your speech.'
The Lord Mayor stumbled through the rest of his welcome and looked expectantly at the Archduke, causing an awkward silence while he and the Archduke stared at one another.
With a cold shiver, Breitner realised that they were waiting for him. The Archduke needed his speech to return the Lord Mayor's greeting. Von Merizzi had thrust the paper into Breitner's hand as he waited to be taken to hospital. It still had the Colonel's blood on it.
Breitner did his best to wipe off the blood and rushed up the steps to pass the speech to the Archduke. There was another awkward silence as the Archduke looked at the blood, then proceeded as protocol dictated.
'I thank you, Herr Burgermeister, very heartily, for the enthusiastic ovations offered to me and to my wife by the population.'
Breitner looked on with some trepidation as the Archduke continued to read out the prepared text, but the Heir had managed to regain his composure sufficiently to ad lib. 'I thank you all the more as I see in the people an expression of their joy at the failure of the attempt at assassination.' The cheering of the crowd followed the Archduke as he made his way into City Hall.
Its reception rooms had been made in the same neo-oriental style as the exterior, complete with pillars and a large domed ceiling. Seeing the Archduke in this artificial setting, Breitner wondered if all the residents of Sarajevo saw Franz Ferdinand in the same way as the nationalists did, as a new sultan trying to mimic their last conqueror.
If that was indeed what they felt, they were masking it well behind worried expressions and hushed conversations. The local representatives plainly thought Franz Ferdinand would be killed. They knew, even if their Imperial masters didn't, that if there had been one assassin, there more than likely would be more. They couldn't take their eyes off Franz Ferdinand as he marched around like a soldier on parade, in a type of goosestep.
Breitner suspected that the Heir had no other way of calming down, without the soothing influence of his wife. The Duchess of Hohenberg had gone to a separate reception on the first floor for a special viewing of the clothes worn by local Muslim women.
Breitner drifted along behind the Archduke, who was trying to downplay the attempt on his life. 'You mark my words, the assassin will probably, in good Austrian style, be decorated with the Order of Merit or end up as a Privy Councillor instead of being made harmless.'
Breitner laughed dryly - no one else did. Most of the assembled crowd were unaware of the gross incompetence that Breitner had witnessed over the past few days. It wouldn't have surprised Breitner if some idiot did reward the would-be assassin exactly as the Archduke suggested.
'It looks to me that we might still get a few more pot shots today,' the Archduke continued. 'What do you say Potiorek? You said yourself there would be no danger!'
Breitner felt little satisfaction as the Archduke taunted the Governor for his inability to maintain law and order on the streets of his province.
Potiorek flushed and struggled to regain his composure. 'Yo
ur Highness, please accept my regrets for this outrage. I take full responsibility, but be assured that all danger has passed.'
The suggestion that there would be no further attempt made on the Archduke's life was so mistaken that Breitner felt compelled to enter the discussion. 'Excuse me, Your Highness. Gentlemen, perhaps we should put out more troops and clear the streets. There must be at least five more armed...'
'We do not need to clear the streets. Do you think Sarajevo is full of assassins?' the Governor barked, interrupting Breitner. Despite his shocked condition, Potiorek knew that any further discussion around the Archduke's security arrangements would only highlight his negligence.
'With respect, Governor, what more proof do you need that there are assassins at large in Sarajevo?' Breitner held up his injured hand.
'We have only seen one,' the Governor replied, looking at Breitner with distaste.
'I will not lock myself away and cower while the streets are cleared of my sovereign people,' the Archduke said. To Breitner's surprise the Archduke had accepted what he had to say and disregarded it without chastising him. Breitner was now at something of a loss, as without knowing the plans of the Young Bosnians, clearing the streets was the only thing he could think of to ensure the Heir's safety.
Governor Potiorek seized the initiative. 'Perhaps Your Highness would consider cutting his programme short and proceeding straight to the Konak for lunch? That would also punish the city for this outrage as the crowd will not have the privilege of welcoming Your Highness.'
'Governor, I’m sorry but changing the programme of events is not enough. We must get His Imperial Highness out of Sarajevo immediately. There are two Young Bosnia cells at large in the city determined to kill His Highness,’ Breitner argued.
'So you keep saying, yet you still haven't conjured up anyone to support your wild accusations,' Potiorek said, finally regaining his poise. 'I've told you Breitner, your help is neither wanted nor desired.'
A gendarme tapped Breitner on the shoulder and for a split second he thought that Potiorek had signalled for him to be arrested. 'Herr Breitner, there is someone from the British Consulate asking to see you.'
*
Johnny stayed close to the wall of the marble atrium, the City Hall’s oriental design providing him with plenty of alcoves in which to hide. He'd already seen three officers from the club and it would have been terribly embarrassing if one of them had recognised him. The last thing he wanted to do was to have to explain to Breitner that he’d met the officers in a gambling den when he was supposed to have been reporting to the Governor.
More worryingly, Johnny had seen Matthias, Libby's monocled lieutenant from the club. He was cutting a dash with his duelling scars and dress uniform, clearly believing that the Austro-Hungarian Army deserved its reputation for having the best dressed soldiers in Europe.
If Libby had Matthias as an admirer and a pawn, it would explain why she’d been content to spend so much time with an infirm old general, in Sarajevo. Johnny was slowly becoming accustomed to Libby’s weakness for dandies; he’d known that he was playing with fire from the moment he’d got involved with her.
If Matthias did have designs on Libby, the last thing Johnny wanted to deal with now was a jealous rival who sported duelling scars, or worse still, a jilted accomplice who thought he was entitled to a share of the winnings.
He was relieved to see Breitner hurrying out of the reception room towards him. Johnny stood up straight, trying his best to look like a representative of His Britannic Majesty’s Government. He had managed to put his bow tie on as he had made his way through the police and outraged crowds, which with his battered tails, seemed to be enough to comply with the 'drawing room’ dress code which the programme demanded, but he still hadn't been able to get into the reception without an invitation.
Breitner regarded him wearily. 'So you've reverted back to being an Englishman?'
'I didn’t know how else to get in,’ Johnny shrugged, ‘so I pretended to be a chap I know from the Consulate.'
Johnny took a drink from a passing waiter, before adding, ‘I need you to introduce me to the Archduke.’ Breitner snatched the drink from Johnny and signalled for the waiter to go away. ‘I say, that’s a bit rum, Breitner. I think the least I deserve is a drink after what I’ve done today.’
'I take it that by turning up here, in that ridiculous outfit, you think you’ve successfully completed the task I gave you?'
'Well, don't you? They've shot their bolt. Some of them might still be lurking about, but all you need to do is flood the city with troops.'
Breitner glowered. 'Where have you been, Johnny? I needed you.'
Johnny shrugged again, distracted by a pretty girl in a pink and white silk dress who’d swished past him.
'You were supposed to meet me at the Governor's residence, yesterday,' Breitner said pointedly.
'I say, is your hand okay?' Johnny asked, feigning interest. The last thing he wanted to do was to try and explain the last twenty four hours.
'A bomb exploded under the car I was in. A bomb you were supposed to have disarmed.'
'You were in that car?' Johnny stifled a laugh. He should have guessed. 'Sorry about that, but we did stop it - the assassination.'
'Is that what you think happened?'
'What?' Johnny was half listening, half looking for the girl in the pink and white dress - she’d looked familiar somehow. 'But didn't you see me? I ran out into the road when Nedjo threw his bomb.'
'I didn't see anything, Johnny, no one did.' Breitner waved his wounded hand, 'Even if I had, the Archduke doesn't exactly see what happened as a success. I take it you saw the explosion?'
'But the bomb missed the Archduke. I warned the chauffeur - he saw me, I'm sure he did. He can tell the Archduke I warned him.'
'You're missing the point, Johnny. A bomb was thrown at the Archduke. He was subject to an act of terrorism within the borders of his Empire. Everything else is just detail.'
Johnny could feel all of his hard work slipping away; he might as well have stayed in bed with Libby. 'I'll talk to the chauffeur, he can tell them that I helped. You could tell them how I've worked with you. At least then I could get some sort of commendation. I can go and find him.' Johnny had seen the chauffeurs standing outside, on his way into the reception.
Breitner looked annoyed. 'My main priority is to get the Archduke out of Sarajevo, alive. If you had actually done what you were supposed to...' Breitner stopped himself mid sentence. 'Maybe it's not too late to talk to the Governor. Wait here. Your turning up might actually have been quite prescient.'
'Yes, I think you’re right, Breitner old chap,' Johnny agreed wholeheartedly. There was a lot to attend to and he had no intention of standing in the corner while Breitner took all of the glory.
*
Franz Ferdinand listened with growing frustration as his staff and the local officials discussed whether or not to amend his programme of events or cancel it altogether and return to Ilidza. Potiorek was of the opinion that the engagement at the museum must go ahead, since members of the government were waiting to greet the Heir.
The Archduke felt his duty was perfectly clear. 'I wish to go to the hospital and visit Lieutenant Colonel von Merizzi, who I believe was wounded in the attack. From there we can go to the museum.' Franz Ferdinand was the Inspector General of the Imperial Army and he felt he must go to a wounded soldier, aside from the fact that Merizzi was injured while attending the Archduke. 'Please inform my wife that I shall be leaving presently.'
His aides and the local officials snapped to attention.
*
Gavrilo Princip crossed the road from Lateiner Bridge and went to his fallback position in front of Schiller's general store and delicatessen, at the corner of Franz Josef Street and Appel Quay.
He doubted that the Archduke would stick to his planned programme now and deliberated going back to his boarding house which was only a couple of streets away. Ilic was probably already t
here, he thought, as he looked at a large picture of a wine bottle that ran up the full length of the wall, advertising Hungarian champagne. It reminded him of the wine he'd drunk the previous night to wash away the bitter taste of failure and now he'd missed his chance again. Princip controlled his anger and decided that he would not leave while there was still a chance of taking revenge on the tyrant.
Mihajlo Pusara, Princip’s actor friend, tapped him on the shoulder, his handsome face glowing. 'Gavrilo, I knew Nedjo would do it if he saw the newspaper clipping announcing the Heir’s visit.'
'He hasn't done anything, Mihajlo, apart from fail,' Princip replied, irritated that Pusara seemed to be as quick to believe Nedjo's boasts as Nedjo was to make them.
'Do you think they are dumb enough to come back this way?' Pusara asked.
'Who can tell?' Princip answered. ‘The Bosnian Post reported that the motorcade would pass this way on its return from the reception at City Hall.’
Pusara read the street sign with the theatrical flourish of an actor. 'Franz Josef Street - how ironic. A great act of Yugoslav nationalism could be carried out in a street named after the Emperor.'
Princip looked at the narrow, innocuous looking side street. It was the perfect place to set an ambush and prepare to wait for his enemy, just as his ancestors had in the Grahovo Valley.
*
Johnny saw a commotion as he stepped out of City Hall; one of the conspirators was being dragged around the back to the police station, followed by a baying crowd.
He ducked out of the way, realising that things were getting pretty hysterical. The last thing he needed was for one of his former confederates to see him and involve him in a riot. There were more than enough gendarmes and army officers hanging around to make things difficult.
He needed to find the Archduke’s chauffeur before Breitner took him in to see the Governor. He’d only got a fleeting look at the chap as the Archduke's car drove past, but he was confident that the chauffeur would be with the line of neatly parked cars outside City Hall.
