by Alan Bardos
‘Yes, that’s right. He’s been recalled to Vienna, to brief the Council of Joint Ministers on the assassination crisis. Very talkative after a couple of drinks,’ Johnny said wryly, reaching for a glass of champagne as a waiter floated past.
De Bunsen and his staff were incredulous. 'This contact told you that Germany has given Austria a free hand to deal with Serbia as they see fit, because they feel Russia won’t intervene if Austria attacks Serbia?' De Bunsen had switched back to French so that the Russians could follow what they were saying.
'Well, yes. After all, if any nation is touchy about members of their Royal Family being assassinated, then surely it's Russia,' Johnny replied, also in French, before finishing his champagne.
The Russian Ambassador’s face darkened and for a moment Johnny saw why the Russians were known as the 'steam-roller' of Europe. 'The thing I dislike about the frock coat is that it makes it difficult to separate the gentlemen from the lackey.’
He spoke in French directly to de Bunsen, who flinched, then turned to Johnny and said, ‘I think you’d better go before you do any more damage to our alliance with Russia.’
Johnny managed to find solace for his bruised self-esteem in more champagne. It didn't seem to matter what he did, he would never be seen as, 'one of us' by his social superiors, but he knew the day of the lackey was coming. The decaying old aristocrats would be cast out soon enough to make room for the middle classes, if what he'd seen in Sarajevo was anything to go by.
Lady Elizabeth Smyth finally turned up an hour later, gliding through the assembled elite in the same sparkly dress she'd worn in Vittel, indifferent to the envious and admiring stares she received. Johnny approached her and she gave him a cool, sideways glance. 'Oh, there you are. Well, you certainly took your time about it,' she said, moving away. Johnny followed.
'I couldn't get here any sooner. I was detained in police custody,' Johnny said, talking to the side of her head because she refused to turn around.
'Well, that was your own silly fault. I can’t believe you ran off like that.'
'So you left Sarajevo without me, Libby.' Johnny didn't really blame her for that, not with all the rioting that had been going on.
'Did you really expect me to wait around for you?' Libby said airily.
'No, I'm sure that would have been too much to hope for,' Johnny replied dully. He knew there wasn't any point in discussing it further - as far as she was concerned she'd left him a note and that was that.
'Do stop being tiresome, Johnny.' Libby turned around at last to show off her refined beauty. They were away from the crowd now, on the periphery of the reception and Johnny felt as if he was about to drop off the edge of the world, into turmoil once more. She opened and closed her left hand three times, then exited the function room. Johnny waited for a few moments, then followed. It was an old routine they'd perfected at numerous embassy parties in Paris.
She was waiting behind the third door on the left, in an empty office. 'You look wonderful, Libby,' Johnny said when he’d found her.
'No, I don't. I'm an absolute mess. Do you know how many times I've worn this old rag?' Johnny tried to embrace her, but she pushed him away. 'Don't try and butter me up, Johnny. The money is safely deposited in the Bank of Austro-Hungary and that's where it’s staying.'
'But we can go anywhere, do anything! You can buy all the new dresses you want - well, within reason,' Johnny said with a laugh.
'You're worse than that insipid fool, Pinkston. He actually wants me to go to Marienbad with him, for goodness’ sake.' She moved away from Johnny to look out of the window, but he saw excitement flash briefly across her face.
'Don't do that. Come with me,' Johnny said, although it hadn’t occurred to him where they’d go, if she did accept.
'It's alright for you to go running off into the unknown - you're a nobody. One has certain standards, expectations of life. How would I show my face in society if I created a scandal? George has made it perfectly clear that if I pay the money back he'll overlook my lack of judgement. People in our position do, after all, expect these things to happen; they're just not generally done with the staff.'
'If that's how you see it, we don't have to stay together, if you'd rather not. Just give me my half of the money and I'll be on my way,' Johnny said.
'Johnny, it doesn't work like that. We won the money together to pay off the gambling debts we ran up...together.' She almost spoke kindly.
'I see. What about us? Are we going to stay together?' Johnny asked.
'That is up to you. I'm more than happy to carry on our little arrangement in Paris for the time being. Staff or not, you can be most diverting.' Libby smiled and Johnny was glad to see that all of the beatings he'd received over the past few weeks hadn't blunted her attraction to him.
'But we must settle our accounts,’ Libby continued. ‘I'm leaving tonight before I allow myself to get any more distracted. You can come with me or stay here, as you choose.' With that, she left the room before he could create any more of a scene.
Johnny looked out of the window, across at the Belvedere Palace. The domes of Franz Ferdinand's official residence rose above the buildings in front of him like a giant wedding cake. He could see a flag was flying at half-mast; he knew exactly how that felt, he mused.
He stayed in the room for a while, brooding about his options. He'd never had any illusions about his relationship with Libby, but it seemed maybe he was just as susceptible to women's charms as they were to his. The thought worried him. Perhaps he’d overestimated his effect on women and maybe they had used him, rather than the other way round.
Johnny quickly dismissed the idea as ridiculous. If he went poking about in the depth of his soul he knew he’d be sure to end up inventing any number of terrifying things.
What was really bothering him was whether or not to stay in Vienna. Pinkie had implied that he needed someone with his skills and Johnny wondered if by making a full report of everything he'd discovered, Pinkie would be impressed enough to overlook the Russian Ambassador’s remarks and offer him a position, or arrange for a posting to Belgium. All he really had back in Paris was uncertainty.
Johnny found Pinkie holding court with a group of Embassy officials; they were laughing about something as Johnny arrived.
'There he is - the man of the moment, Johnny Swift. You certainly know how to put on a show.' The others laughed again and Pinkie signalled for them to go away.
'Sorry, Johnny. I don't mean to tease. You've made quite an impression on the Chief.'
'Really?' Johnny asked doubtfully.
'Oh, absolutely. He said you were a bit of a loose cannon but that your Russian's spot on and that you have initiative.'
Johnny grinned, unused to praise, while Pinkie went on. 'As a matter of fact, we may have a job for you if you're interested in being transferred to our firm.'
'Yes, definitely.' Johnny fought to control his excitement. He hadn’t even had to attempt to sell himself. This was what it was all about, he thought - dazzle people with a bit of insider knowledge and you're off to a flying start. Although he wondered if he could really call what he’d said to the Russian Ambassador, ‘dazzling’.
'Splendid, splendid. We need you to go to Persia to help sort out some difficulties we're having with the Russians in the neutral zone. I'd do it myself but I simply don't have the language skills and well, to be honest, I was hoping to get away for a few weeks,' Pinkie confided.
'Persia. You want me to go to Persia?' Johnny let what Pinkie had said sink in; all he could think of were arid deserts and bandits. He realised that Pinkie had been priming him to join his network of contacts all along.
'I gather hopeless missions are rather your line,' Pinkie said dryly. Johnny knew then what he had to do and he bowed to the inevitable.
He got to Libby as she was about to board the Paris train. Panting, he pulled her aside and fought to get his breath back. It had been a hell of a run.
'Johnny! How dare you manha
ndle me?' He didn't let go, despite her indignation.
'We can't go to Paris, Libby,' Johnny eventually managed to say.
She scowled. 'Johnny, we've been through this. I've got commitments. I'm not running away with you.'
'No, you don't understand. We have to go to Switzerland first.' If he was going to do this, he thought, he might as well get it right.
'Switzerland?' Libby lit up. 'You want to take me to Switzerland? You're trying to trick me! You know I simply adore it there.'
'The last of the money I lost in Vittel came from Sir George's bank account in Zurich.'
'The secret naughty fund - so that's why you were so funny when we lost. You sneaky little fibber! Yes, we’d certainly better go to Zurich and pay the money back into his account. You can keep your fortune safe from the tax collectors, but not from Johnny Swift. I can see that George is going to have to take a firmer hand with you in future.’ Libby frowned, remembering Sir George’s other condition for letting Johnny back into the fold. ‘I hope your report’s going to be up to scratch.'
Johnny smiled weakly. He’d accepted that he’d have to pay the money back, but he didn’t really care if Sir George found his Balkans report up to scratch or not. It was the information that he’d discovered since leaving the Balkans that really mattered. Johnny now planned to take that straight to the British Ambassador in Paris, with the letter of commendation from Tisza to prove its authenticity. He had no doubt that what he knew could change the course of events in Europe, forever.
'We can't stay in Zurich for long, Libby - things are happening. I need to get back to Paris and impress people.'
'Well, we needn't go straight back, surely. It is the start of the season. Nothing can happen - all of the diplomats are on holiday. I mean, even the Kaiser's gone off on a cruise around Norway. I don't see why we can't have a holiday as well.'
Johnny shrugged. He had helped stop a war, or at least helped stop the Austrians from going off, half-cocked. He deserved some sort of holiday, after everything.
Chapter 43
Breitner put down his copy of von Wiesner's report and sat back to contemplate the special emissary’s findings on the assassination of the Heir Apparent. The report had just been dispatched to Vienna and for the first time since he’d learnt of the plot, Breitner felt as though everything was now out of his hands.
He had arrived in Sarajevo with von Wiesner three days previously and had done his best to assist the industrious lawyer, but his presence had been largely resented by both von Wiesner, who quite rightly saw him as a mole for Count Tisza, and General Potiorek, who was determined that the report should prove the Serbian Government’s guilt.
Von Wiesner had carried out a speedy, two day investigation into the assassination and the circumstances around it. Working in his hotel room until four in the morning each day, he waded through the mountain of paperwork produced by the civil and military authorities. Von Wiesner also held a number of conferences with General Potiorek, his chief advisors and the lead investigators. Potiorek did his best to shut Breitner out of these meetings but credentials from the Hungarian Prime Minister were hard to ignore.
In any event, there was little Breitner could add to what was said. The main focus was on the extent to which the Serbian Government had been involved in the outrage in Sarajevo, and that proved to be impossible to determine with the information at hand.
Breitner was inclined to believe that the assassins had been acting independently of both the Serbian Government and the Black Hand, although the assassination was certainly supported and approved by officers within the Serbian Army. Whether or not the officers were acting officially or had gone rogue, he doubted anyone would ever know for sure.
Breitner felt the assassins and their confederates might have been able to spread some light on the mystery. Apart from Mehmed Mehmedbasic, all of them had been arrested, including members of Narodna Odbrana, which ran the underground route into Bosnia.
The most senior member of Narodna Odbrana to have been caught was Veljko Cubrilovic, who was the brother of one of the assassins, Vaso Cubrilovic. They’d both taken part in the conspiracy without the knowledge of the other. Veljko was a teacher, with a family, who’d helped Princip and Grabez during their journey to Sarajevo and had directed them on to his friend, Misko Jovanovic, a rich and very nervous merchant from Tuzla. The assassins had been given Jovanovic’s name by their contact in Belgrade before they left, as someone who could help them once they’d crossed the border.
Breitner had thought it might have been possible for von Wiesner to do a deal or to apply pressure to get more information about Belgrade's involvement, as had been done in the case of Danilo Ilic. Ilic, Veljko Cubrilovic and Jovanovic were over twenty and would hang, and Breitner had felt that this fact could have been used to pry more information out of them. Veljko Cubrilovic and Jovanovic certainly had a lot to lose; they might have been persuaded to cooperate in return for a lighter sentence. By the terms of Austro-Hungarian law, people under twenty could not be executed. However, Princip and his accomplices would be sentenced to twenty years in prison, an intimidating prospect for teenagers, even assuming they survived the sentence.
Von Wiesner evidently felt that the conspirators had said all that they were going to say to the police and he had declined to interview them, which was largely why Breitner had accompanied him to Sarajevo, to provide insight into their motives.
If Johnny had been there he might have made a difference, but Breitner doubted it. Everything Johnny knew had been fully documented and passed on to von Wiesner, under Breitner's name, so he'd let Johnny disappear in Vienna. They'd both got what they wanted and Breitner knew that if Johnny's role in the assassination ever came to light it would cause embarrassment to both Breitner and the authorities. Consequently, Breitner had spent much of his time purging any record of Johnny's presence in Sarajevo from the official files.
Under the circumstances, Breitner felt that the report von Wiesner had written was remarkably fair. He hadn't found any evidence of the Serbian Government's complicity in ordering the assassination of the Heir, in training the assassins or providing them with weapons - quite the reverse, in fact.
He did suggest that there was actual proof that the plan to carry out the assassination originated in Belgrade and that elements within the Serbian Government should be held accountable for their role in the assassination. He named Milan Ciganovic, an employee of the Serbian State Railway and Tankosic, a major in the Serbian Army, as the people who’d assisted the assassins and used Serbian frontier guards to smuggle the conspirators across the border.
Von Wiesner suggested that three demands should be added to any ultimatum sent to Belgrade. Firstly, the Serbian Government must end any official involvement in smuggling persons and material across the frontier. Secondly, the dismissal of Serbian frontier officers implicated in the smuggling of the assassins and thirdly, the arrest and prosecution of Ciganovic and Tankosic, by the Serbian Government.
Breitner knew that von Wiesner's report was too meek to pacify the hawks. General Potiorek had already added a paragraph to it stating that there was an 'alternative government' in Belgrade that must be held responsible for the assassinations.
When an ultimatum was finally put to Belgrade, Breitner had no doubt that its terms would be a lot stronger than the ones suggested by von Wiesner. Even Count Tisza had been convinced of the inevitability of a war with Serbia; the only question that remained was on what scale that war would be fought.
Breitner had already started packing up what possessions he had in Sarajevo - it was unlikely that Count Tisza would still be in need of his services if there was going to be a war in the Balkans. However, Breitner was still a reserve officer and was expecting his call up papers shortly. After everything he'd done, it would be the war he couldn't prevent that was going to give him back his career, he realised grimly.
*
Johnny gazed at the vaulted ceiling of Sir George's Swiss bank. T
his was where everything had all begun. He looked back to the cashier on the other side of the counter; it was the same sober man who'd passed Johnny the recall telegraph from Sir George, triggering the first in his series of rash and cataclysmic decisions.
Johnny smiled and signed the last slip that paid the money back into Sir George's account. It was a lot easier to put money in than to take it out.
'Do stop dawdling, Johnny, we'll be late for lunch. Humpty's expecting us.' Libby had escorted Johnny to the bank, to keep a watchful eye on him and to wire the rest of the money they owed to their creditors.
Johnny shrugged stoically. 'I hope I’ve put everything right, now.’
'That's the spirit. Don’t worry, we still have enough left for a half decent holiday.' Libby led him to a cab and they took the long scenic drive back to their hotel, which was set on a mountain overlooking Zurich, its spires and turrets giving it the look of a fairy tale castle. Libby snuggled up to him on the back seat of the taxi and whispered the rewards she planned to bestow on him for having paid the money back without any fuss.
They had an excellent lunch with Humpty, Libby's nickname for the retired general she'd met at the Ilidza Spa. He'd been in Switzerland as part of his tour of European spas, taking mud baths with innocent chambermaids in the guise of finding the cure for all his worldly ailments. Libby had cabled Humpty to join them, as she felt it only right and proper for him to have a share in the spoils. Part of Johnny had hoped the General would turn out to be his “uncle”; he could have touched him for a few hundred. He should have known that the old duffer would never have gone to any trouble to keep an eye on him. Johnny was, as always, very much on his own.
'Whole thing’s a lot of stuff and nonsense, Swift.' Humpty had decided to share his incisive analysis of the Balkans crisis, over lunch. 'Great Britain will place indirect pressure on Austria through Berlin, as they did during the last bloody mess in the Balkans. Berlin will put pressure on Austria to reduce their demands, and Britain will refuse to support Russia should they intervene. The great powers will then come together and settle things like gentlemen, in another Conference of London.'
