The Assassins

by Alan Bardos

  Johnny heard a snort of consternation from the back seat. 'What is this - Franz Josef Street? Stop, this is the wrong way.' General Potiorek tapped Johnny on the shoulder, sharply. 'We are supposed to be going to the hospital via Appel Quay!'

  Johnny stopped instantly in front of the delicatessen and was not sure what to do next - he had thought they were going to the museum. He stared at the people lined up along the street. They all seemed to think that this was the route the Archduke would be travelling, as had the drivers of the first two cars. Johnny wondered if this might be the moment he was waiting for to talk to the Archduke while the people in charge established what was going on.

  ‘Come on! Get us back onto Appel Quay - what’s the delay?’ Potiorek demanded. Johnny abandoned his plan and reached across for the gear stick mounted next to him on the running board. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Duchess, sitting directly behind him and waving at the people beside them on the pavement.

  Johnny crunched the gears as he struggled to find reverse, attracting von Harrach’s attention. 'Who the devil are you?' von Harrach said, as he leant in over the front passenger seat, keeping his voice down so as not to be overheard by his esteemed passengers. ‘You’re not my driver! Where's Loyka?’

  'Your driver was taken ill, Herr Colonel.' Johnny involuntarily rubbed his bruised knuckles. None of this was helping him find reverse.

  'Nonsense!' Von Harrach looked around at the crowd in front of him and realised that this wasn't the best time to have the discussion. 'Just get us out of here.'

  *

  Breitner’s car stopped suddenly on the corner of Franz Josef Street. His wounded hand gave out under the sudden jolt and he fell off the running board, flat on his back. Fumbling on the side of the car he managed to stagger back onto his feet. An unfamiliar feeling of panic swept through him as he wondered why they’d stopped. He knew that something must have gone terribly wrong.

  He looked around to see if he could borrow a side arm from someone, but none of the officers in the motorcade looked to be armed with anything more dangerous than a ceremonial sword.

  He started to push his way through the crowd onto the corner of Franz Josef Street and was relieved to see the Archduke’s car slowly starting to reverse towards him. Nothing had happened. The motorcade had just taken a wrong turn. Von Harrach was still on the left hand running board of the car, shielding the Heir.

  Breitner was considering whether or not to confront Johnny when he saw a gaunt youth pointing a gun, to the right of the Royal car. Panic overwhelmed him as he realised that von Harrach was on the wrong side. He started to run.

  *

  The Royal car stopped, abruptly, a few paces from Gavrilo Princip. He recognised the tyrant, fully plumed, and Potiorek, but the presence of the Duchess made him take pause. She was directly in front of him and so close he could see flowers pushed into a red sash around her waist.

  He dismissed his uncertainty and determined that he would not fail this time. A peculiar feeling began to take over him, focusing him on what needed to be done. He knew this was his destiny. He would prove himself.

  Gavrilo’s first instinct was to throw the bomb, but it was tied to the left hand side of his belt. The crowd were pushing and shouting, 'Viva, long may he live!’ and as his strength started to fade with the nervous excitement sweeping over him, he decided that it would be too difficult to untie the bomb from his belt, unscrew the top, prime it and throw.

  He took the automatic from his pocket. Oblivious to the danger around him, the driver of the tyrant's car was reversing very slowly. Gavrilo lifted his pistol and aimed at the Archduke.

  *

  Johnny was feeling very pleased with himself. He'd managed to overcome all manner of technical difficulties to get the car to reverse and he was even managing to use the high steering wheel fairly competently.

  He had the car backing up nicely towards the embankment when he saw Breitner come charging around the corner, causing him to almost stall, which released an outburst of complaint from his passengers.

  *

  The gaunt youth was only a few feet away. Breitner was confident he would get him when he was hit by a blinding flash of pain that knocked the wind out of him.

  *

  Johnny gazed in amazement as Breitner crumpled and fell to the ground. Mihajlo Pusara, the actor, had burst out of the crowd and punched Breitner in the stomach. Then Johnny heard the metallic click of a gun being cocked and understood immediately why Breitner had been running. Gavrilo was standing a few feet away from the car, pointing a pistol at him.

  *

  Excitement was welling up inside Gavrilo as he pointed his gun at the tyrant, turned his head and fired. The people around him immediately started to beat him. He thought he’d fired twice, maybe more, but he couldn’t see if he’d hit anyone. He put the gun to his head and prepared to join Bogdan Zerajic. Somebody pulled the gun away before he could squeeze the trigger.

  The gun was ripped out of his hand and he dropped his bomb in the struggle, but he managed to unwrap his cyanide and swallow it, amid a swirling torrent of punches and kicks. Gavrilo started to retch violently and was thrown to the ground.

  *

  Johnny watched the crowd beating Gavrilo, trying to understand what had just happened. Army officers from the motorcade joined the struggle around Gavrilo and one of them hit him with the hilt of his sword. Johnny felt a sudden urge to go and help Gavro, as some of the other members of the crowd were doing.

  'Take us to the hospital man, at once, do you hear?' Potiorek snapped, bringing Johnny back to attention.

  Johnny thought that Potiorek meant to carry on with his improvised tour. Franz Ferdinand and Sophie were both sitting bolt upright and Johnny assumed that both of the shots had missed, as he’d seen Gavrilo look away when he fired. Everything seemed to be alright; he'd saved the Royal couple while under fire. Then, as he continued to reverse onto Appel Quay, Johnny saw a bright crimson sheen of blood in the Archduke's mouth.

  The Duchess saw the blood at the same time and called out, 'In God's name what has happened to you?' She slumped forward onto the Archduke’s lap and he called to her.

  'Sopherl, Sopherl! Don't die! Live for our children!'

  Johnny fought to block out the nausea and shame he felt and concentrate on driving the car. He couldn’t see a wound on the Duchess and hoped that she’d just fainted. Von Harrach, who was still on the running board next to the Archduke, held the Heir up and stopped him from falling forward as Johnny reversed the car back on to Appel Quay.

  Crowds of people had gathered at the end of Franz Josef Street, blocking the embankment. Johnny glanced around again at the Archduke. Von Harrach was wiping blood from his mouth, and asked if he was in pain. Franz Ferdinand repeated over and over, 'It is nothing', but the distress on his face told a different story.

  ‘We’ll never get through that mob!’ the Governor shouted at Johnny. ‘Take us to my residence - go over Lateiner Bridge.’

  Johnny turned the car onto the narrow, cobbled bridge and drove as fast as he could while the Governor barked directions.

  They reached the mansion and he stopped the car next to four, resting, stone lions. The Archduke had started to make a rattling sound; the jolts from the drive appeared to have aggravated his condition.

  Johnny joined the doctors who’d rushed to treat the Royal couple and helped carry the Archduke as he and his wife were brought up to the first floor of the residence. The Archduke was put on an ugly green and red chaise longue in the Governor's study, while his wife was taken into the adjoining bedroom. Downstairs he could hear the clatter of cutlery as preparations for the Governor’s lunch continued.

  In his shocked state, Johnny had a vague notion of trying to talk to the Archduke to explain what excellent service he'd been to him, up until he was shot.

  He immediately regretted the idea. The Archduke's bleeding had got worse; there was blood on the gold stars of his collar insignia and down
the front of his tunic. His breathing had become barely audible as he started to lose consciousness.

  The four doctors in attendance started to cut off Franz Ferdinand’s uniform, desperately searching for his wound. Johnny knew it was hopeless; he remembered Ilic's words, “Where this hits, no medicine can help”. Dejected, he turned to leave and saw von Harrach with a group of outraged soldiers, blocking the door.

  'There you are, skulking in the corner like the rat you are. Waiting to finish your handiwork, no doubt.'

  'I beg your pardon?' Johnny replied in disbelief.

  'You deliberately drove the Archduke into a trap!' von Harrach shouted, drawing some angry glances from the doctors.

  'What are you talking about? I most certainly did not,' Johnny said indignantly. He knew he should have done more to prevent this from happening, but he thought von Harrach’s accusation was a bit strong.

  'Save it for the hangman!' von Harrach bellowed and signalled for the soldiers to seize Johnny.

  Chapter 38

  Johnny came to on a rough, stone floor with a hazy memory of being hit over the head with a rifle. He could hear muffled voices and a door open and close behind him. He realised that he was in an office and thought he recognised it, but he just couldn’t remember where it was, or when he’d been in it before.

  The door swung open again. Johnny looked around and saw Gavrilo and Nedjo, sitting in a medical room directly opposite him. His stomach turned over - they were in a terrible state.

  A bloated, pasty-faced man made sure that Johnny saw the scene, then closed the door. Johnny realised then that he was in the City Hall Police Station; he’d sat in that same medical room when Breitner recruited him.

  'I'd say, under the circumstances, you've got off lightly,' the man said. Johnny tried to get up but his legs gave way. The man signalled to a guard and Johnny was hauled into a chair.

  Johnny now recognised the man as Leo Pfeffer. The chap from the Consulate had sent Johnny to see him when he had first arrived in Sarajevo. 'Mr Pfeffer, you know me. I came to see you a few weeks ago,' Johnny said.

  'Did you really?'

  'Yes, I asked you about the nationalist movement in Bosnia.'

  'It appears you found them, by all accounts.' The last time they’d spoken Pfeffer had told Johnny that there was no nationalist movement in Sarajevo and it seemed that he wanted to cover up his lack of knowledge by pretending not to know him.

  'Look, Mr Pfeffer, there have been some pretty wild accusations flying about, but it's nothing that can’t be explained. If you contact Laszlo Breitner he can straighten everything out.' Johnny felt that this was his only real chance to escape this mess. He couldn't expect any help from Sir George since this was exactly the sort of thing that Sir George had been hoping would happen to him.

  Pfeffer put his glasses on, the preliminary side of their discussion over. 'I've been appointed as the investigating judge of this case, and as such it is my duty to inform you that Her Highness the Duchess Sophie of Hohenberg, died on arrival at the Governor's residence.'

  Johnny was shocked. 'But surely, she just fainted.'

  'One of the shots that Princip fired penetrated the right side of the car and hit her in the lower abdomen. His Imperial and Royal Highness the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Este died ten minutes later, from a wound to his neck.’

  'Princip couldn't have done that…he wasn't even looking at them when he fired.' Johnny felt numb.

  ‘The bullet hit the Heir Apparent just under the collar of his jacket, nicked the jugular artery and embedded in his spine,’ Pfeffer said blandly and then began to charge Johnny as an accomplice in the murder of the Archduke and his wife. All that Johnny could think of was the blood in the Archduke's mouth. It had been the first time that he had seen anyone shot and he hoped to God it would be the last.

  Viktor Ivasjuk, the hawk-faced Chief of Detectives, whom Johnny had also met when he first arrived, wasn't quite so formal when Johnny was dragged into his office later that night. He examined the contours of Johnny's skull and deduced that he was a degenerate criminal, of the worst order.

  'Maybe there is something to Lombroso's theory of criminology, after all,' Johnny said with a smile, trying to hide his unease at the examination.

  Viktor struck Johnny in the face - his methodology didn't appear to be a laughing matter.

  'Who were you working with to assassinate the Heir Apparent?' If Viktor recognised Johnny from their previous meeting, he saw no need to mention it.

  'Look, as I told the investigating judge, you need to speak to Breitner. I've been working with him - you sent me to see him for goodness’ sake!' Johnny was deeply shocked by the deaths of Franz Ferdinand and Sophie and wanted to help in any way he could, but he saw that Viktor wasn’t in a mood to listen to reason. Johnny knew that anything he said to him, without Breitner to verify his story, would only implicate him further in the conspiracy.

  Viktor picked up Bogdan Zerajic’s skull from his desk. If the gesture was meant to be an intimidation tactic, Johnny felt it was a good one.

  He levelled his close-set eyes on Johnny. 'You were acting under instructions from Belgrade and Narodna Odbrana. I can smell it on you. They told you to stop the Heir’s car in front of Princip.'

  'No, some old duffer tapped me on the shoulder and told me to stop the car - Potiorek I think his name was - the Governor. He's the chap you need to speak to.'

  Viktor put down Bogdan Zerajic’s skull and punched Johnny in the face. 'How dare you talk of the Governor in that way?'

  'The only person I took instructions from was Laszlo Breitner, of the Joint Ministry of Finance,' Johnny said, through a cut lip. He’d taken quite a beating since he’d come to Sarajevo and was becoming increasingly concerned that it would spoil his good looks.

  However, Viktor seemed satisfied that Johnny wasn’t a Serbian agent and began to change tack. 'Give me the names of all of the revolutionary scum you’ve been associating with. We need to clear them from our streets!' he shouted and punched Johnny again.

  ‘I’d be happy to cooperate fully, but I need to speak to Breitner first.’ The names were Johnny’s last bargaining chip and he was starting to worry that if he gave them to Viktor, Breitner would have no reason to help him get out of this disaster.

  'Maybe you’d be more talkative after a little bath?' Viktor almost smiled.

  'A bath?' Johnny didn't like the sound of that.

  'Yes, I find submerging my subjects underwater to be an effective method of extracting information.'

  'You don't really need to go to all that trouble. I've told you all that I can,' Johnny said in disbelief.

  Two guards picked Johnny up and dragged him to a large tin bath in the corner of the room. They held him over it and blood started to drip off his face into the water. He could just make out his reflection and was glad to see that it didn't look too bad.

  'Are you sure you don't want to tell me anything?' Viktor asked.

  'Yes, damn it!'

  'Very well.'

  The guards dropped Johnny. He landed on the floor with a crash.

  'What are you playing at, man?' Johnny groaned.

  'I know who you are. I recognise the symmetry of your face from the last time we met,' Viktor said.

  'Why did you go through this pantomime, then?' Johnny asked in dismay.

  'I wanted to make sure you weren’t one of them. The indentations on your head suggest you are prone to deceit.'

  Johnny was dragged into another interview room and after several hours Breitner entered with a face like thunder. 'What have you done this time, my English friend?'

  Johnny pointed at his face. 'Look what they've done to me.'

  'Never mind that, just tell me everything you know.'

  'You've got to help me get out of here...'

  'I've vouched for you - that's all I can do for the time being. I need to know what else you've found out,' Breitner said patiently.

  'Well, I rather think you've missed
the boat on that. They've done it.'

  Breitner finally lost his temper, ‘I am willing to overlook your missing our meeting to go gambling - don’t try to deny it. I have found out everything. There is nothing I can do about that now, but if you stand in the way of justice and refuse to tell me the names of everyone who took part in the murders of the Heir Apparent and his consort I'll leave you to Viktor.'

  Johnny told him what he wanted to know and for his trouble found himself back in the same white-washed cell that Breitner had left him in before. After everything he'd been through, he was in an even worse situation than when he’d started.

  This time he had to share the cell with a number of leading Serb citizens who'd been rounded up and beaten after the assassination. If Gavrilo Princip's aim had been to unite the South Slav people through the outrage, he had dramatically failed. Johnny’s cellmates told him that the assassinations had caused widespread revulsion in all of Sarajevo's communities. Nonetheless, full scale reprisals against the Serb population had broken out all across Bosnia and Herzagovina.

  Johnny's new cellmates were eventually transferred to the military prison and the bells of Sarajevo, which had been tolling for the Royal couple, finally stopped. Johnny was left alone and in silence, to rot.

  All he could do was hold fast and wait for Breitner to return. He was worried about Libby; he'd heard that a mob had thrown stones at the Serb-owned Hotel Europe and he had no idea if she’d been hurt. However, his real concern was that she might leave Sarajevo without him. He'd abandoned her with all their money and rushed off. He tried to fight off his nagging doubts about her loyalty. She had, after all, come to Sarajevo to find him eventually, so that she could win back the money for her husband, but only once she'd bored of Barton-Forbes.

  Johnny couldn't decide if he'd really seen her go into the bank of Austro-Hungary or not, after the bomb went off. Even if she had been there he was sure that there was a harmless explanation, but the thought that she'd banked the money beyond his reach, in her own name, was an unsettling one.