by Alan Bardos
Johnny grinned. He liked Humpty and as a former member of the Committee for Imperial Defence, he might be able to further his career. 'The problem is, Humpty, the Germans have given the Austrians a "blank cheque" in how they deal with Serbia. The Austrians are bound to launch some kind of attack.'
Humpty snorted and finished his Riesling. 'So what if they do? Whatever happens on the continent, we're under no written obligation to go to war for our colleagues in the Triple Entente.
Johnny hoped Humpty was right. He knew from the endless dispatches he spent his days copying out that this was a precarious time for British foreign policy, which had traditionally been used to maintain the balance of power, thus protecting commerce and the sprawling British Empire. Over the past few decades there’d been seismic changes to the traditional order of things, as Great Britain's rivals industrialised and rearmed, threatening her global interests.
To safeguard the Empire, Britain had negotiated agreements with France and Russia, known as the Triple Entente Cordiale, while the Germans formed their own Triple Alliance with Austro-Hungary and Italy.
The British Empire continued a delicate relationship with its new allies and had been obliged to support France as her enmity with Germany developed into rivalry for imperial possessions. Helped along by the Kaiser's expansion of the High Seas Fleet, Britain had become increasingly drawn into conflict with Germany.
‘Even if we did go to war, Great Britain would never deploy an expeditionary force on mainland Europe - not after the hash we made of it in the Crimea. No, all our fighting will be done through a naval blockade, you mark my words. We'll starve them into submission while the French attack in the west and the Russians come at them from the east. The whole thing will be over by Christmas,’ Humpty stated confidently.
Johnny poured him another glass of wine and ordered a third bottle. This was going to be a good, long lunch and Humpty would insist on paying. If Humpty understood the intricate workings of Whitehall as well as he did those of a roulette wheel, Johnny didn’t think he’d have anything to fear from a war. It would just be a spot of local difficultly; the antagonism between Serb nationalism and Austrian Imperialism reaching its final and inevitable conclusion. Nothing at all for Johnny to worry about and along with everything he'd found out recently, it might even help him, he decided.
*
Major Tankosic found Apis in his office incinerating files. Belgrade was evacuating and Apis was one of the last officials left in the capital. The Austrians were expected and he evidently wanted to ensure that no sensitive information fell into their hands.
Apis acknowledged Tankosic with a nod, his huge bald head glinting in the firelight, making him look like a giant Mongol chieftain. He signalled for Tankosic to prepare some drinks.
'Who would have thought that little pipsqueak Princip could have caused all this trouble?' The Major said as he poured out two generous measures of plum brandy. 'Kicking Princip out of the Partisans must have inspired our young revolutionary to do something so heroic.' They raised their glasses and threw down the brandy.
'It's a shame he couldn't keep his mouth shut,' Apis said. 'Or take his life.' He let the implied criticism hang in the air - Tankosic had after all, interviewed and supplied the conspirators. It was still a mystery why the potassium cyanide they took hadn't worked; either it hadn't been a strong enough dose or it had been defective. Whatever the reason, the Major reflected, he’d been dropped right in it.
He’d just been released from custody and had come straight to see Apis, before he rejoined his unit. The Austro-Hungarian ultimatum had been sent the previous day, 24th July. It demanded the arrest of both Tankosic and Ciganovic. The Major was picked up and then let go. He knew the Serbian Government were concerned that any investigation might reveal their collusion or at least, knowledge of the plot.
'What of Ciganovic?' the Major asked.
'Can't be found. He's gone off, “on leave",' Apis replied solemnly.
'He was warned?' Tankosic asked.
‘If Ciganovic was an agent for the government, our glorious Prime Minister Pasic certainly wouldn't want him interrogated,’ Apis replied.
‘You think Cigo’s a spy? Tankosic asked.
‘It would also explain how he managed to clean himself up and get a job with the railway. Not to mention how the government found out about the plot,’ Apis said.
‘Ciganovic was born in Bosnia - maybe he was tipped off by a friend in the police and fled to avoid possible extradition as an Austrian citizen,’ Tankosic said, pouring them another drink. 'In any case, he’d better report for duty. He's one of my best men.'
Apis shrugged. 'Did they interrogate you, Major?' he asked, accepting the brandy.
'I told them I did it all to spite Pasic and they left it at that.' Tankosic raised his glass and gulped the brandy down.
Apis smiled faintly. Their intention had partly been to spite Pasic, Tankosic mused, while undermining the Prime Minister’s treacherous foreign policy and ultimately weakening Pasic's position in the power struggle they were having - a power struggle in which the Prime Minister had started to get the upper hand.
Pasic had been out of Belgrade electioneering when the Austro-Hungarian ultimatum was delivered. He'd rushed back to Belgrade and had done a good job in answering the demands, Apis conceded, as he went through the events Tankosic had missed while he’d been detained. The Prime Minster conducted a wonderful exercise in diplomatic tap dancing, accommodating the Austrians without losing too much face. He'd carefully drafted his reply to give the impression that Serbia accepted all of the demands, except point six, which required that Austrian officials be allowed to participate in the Serbian investigation of the assassination.
'Not even Pasic would have allowed that,' Apis said. 'He could never justify such a grievous violation of our constitution and law.'
'Plus, who knows what the Austrians might find out about the old devil,' Tankosic added and they both roared with laughter. 'If Cigo was actually the Prime Minister's spy, he helped and trained the assassins.'
The Major raised his glass again. 'Well, we've certainly strained relations between Pasic and his Austrian friends.'
Apis grimaced and Tankosic realised that it wasn't a topic for levity. They hadn't planned on provoking a reaction on this scale. In the past the Austrians had settled for or been forced into a diplomatic solution that had humiliated Serbia, weakening Apis's political enemies and raising his stock amongst the nationalists. A full scale war was a different proposition all together.
However, the ultimatum had clearly been a clumsy attempt by Austro-Hungary to provoke a war and was bound to incite their Russian cousins to take action. The rejection of the ultimatum had been delivered to the Austro-Hungarian legation at 5:55 pm that evening. Serbia was now preparing to receive a declaration of war and the inevitable attack that would follow.
Apis poured his brandy onto his burning files, and a huge flame jumped out of the smouldering fire. 'If the Russians stand with us, this will be the start of an all out fight to the death which can only end in our victory and the destruction of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Even if it results in my losing the struggle with Pasic, even if we both die, we will finally get back what we have been dreaming of since Kosovo.'
Chapter 44
Johnny arrived at Paris's Gare de l'Est to the sensational news that Madame Caillaux had been acquitted of murdering the newspaper editor, Gaston Calmette. The story appeared to be on the front page of every Paris paper.
Johnny turned away from the headlines to catch a last fleeting glimpse of Libby, as a swarm of porters and Embassy officials escorted her through a group of French soldiers. They'd travelled back to Paris separately, for the sake of discretion, with Johnny safely secured in second class.
Johnny waited at the newsstand until the last Embassy flunky cleared off. He couldn't see anything about the Balkans crisis in the papers: obviously, nothing critical had happened during his glorious three week sabbatical
with Libby.
He smiled contentedly to himself. Libby had bestowed every possible reward on him that her mischievous and creative mind could devise. A pretty brunette behind the counter saw the look on Johnny's face and grinned back coyly.
At nine o'clock the following morning, and fully reacquainted with the hurly burly of Parisian life, Johnny presented himself to Sir George Smyth in the Imperial finery of his Chancery Office.
Sir George was too incensed to speak for a moment, his face flushing with rage. The undertone was clear - how dare Johnny have the barefaced cheek not to get his bloody head blown off, when a better man had been killed.
'If you haven't got anything tangible to report, God help you, Swift,' Sir George managed to say at last. Without going into the 'whys' and 'hows', Johnny explained that he'd liaised with the Austro-Hungarian Joint-Ministry of Finance to investigate the Young Bosnia Movement, who he felt were the main threat to Austro-Hungarian rule in Bosnia, their aim being to unite the South Slav people through a revolution that would overthrow their Imperial masters. They believed, Johnny continued, that such a revolution would be sparked by the assassination of a leading Austro-Hungarian personage. It was this belief that led to the outrage in Sarajevo.
Johnny was about to explain his role in foiling Nedjo's attempt to throw a bomb into the Archduke's car, when Sir George interrupted him.
'Yes, that's all rather by the by now. The Austrians have already given us the findings of their police investigation, in German. I believe it's still in the basement of the Foreign Office, unread. Did you actually manage to find out anything useful?'
Johnny's stomach clenched in frustration. 'With respect, Sir George, you sent me to Bosnia to investigate the nationalist question.'
'Did I indeed? Was that really the reason?' Sir George let that dangle, like a noose around Johnny's neck.
'I have paid off all of the debts...' Johnny said, taking the wire receipts out of his pocket. Sir George went red and got up from behind his desk to properly express his indignation.
'Don't be so damned vulgar, boy!' Sir George shouted and then regaining his composure, he sat down and in the correct manner of a British gentleman addressing his staff, asked, 'What were your exact instructions, Swift?'
'I believe my exact instructions were to "ferret about a bit",' Johnny replied as tonelessly as possible.
Sir George smashed his fist onto his desk. 'I believe you were instructed to make yourself useful to the Vienna Embassy, with a view to understanding the spread of pan-Slavic nationalism in the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy - not to charge about the Balkans swilling wine and chasing women!' Johnny tried to maintain a straight face, but he could tell Sir George knew his assumption was correct. Johnny may have been able to pass himself off as a Bosnian revolutionary, but one whiff of moral indignation from his betters and he went to pieces.
'I did report to our Vienna Embassy but they didn't know anything about me, or why I had been sent there.'
'Are you contradicting me, Swift?' There was nothing Johnny could say; Sir George was leading him into a trap. Johnny could continue to disagree with him and Sir George would get one of his cronies in Vienna to say that Johnny hadn't been within a hundred miles of the place, and God help him then.
He looked around the office for something that might help him, but all of the scandal in the papers had played itself out.
'Well, have you got anything to say for yourself, before I initiate a formal disciplinary?' Sir George asked mockingly.
Johnny remembered his letter of commendation, from Count Tisza. 'Well, there is this.'
Sir George snatched the letter out of Johnny's hand and scanned through the few lines that thanked Johnny for making himself useful in the general investigation around the murder of the Heir Apparent to the Austro-Hungarian throne. It was the last part that Johnny hoped might turn things around for him. No one was more conscious of royalty, even foreign royalty, than a minor aristocrat trying to further his power and influence.
Sir George looked at Johnny steadily as he carefully folded the letter and passed it back. 'A letter of commendation from a country with whom our allies could well be at war in a couple of days, doesn't really hold much sway.'
Johnny coughed - he should have thought of that. It was practically high treason, aiding and abetting a hostile power. 'I'm sorry, but at the time I was doing my best to assist a sovereign nation we were on good terms with.' His mind scrambled like a rat in a trap as he tried to think of the correct phrasing.
Sir George's eyes flickered with opportunity, 'You're not holding something back are you? Something you think will get you up the greasy pole? I know you, Swift; you have the back alley cunning of a guttersnipe. What else have you found out, moving around in the exalted circles of your country’s enemies? Any little snippet might help us form a coherent foreign policy. The Foreign Secretary and the cabinet are split over the possibility of war and what our involvement should be.'
'War, Sir George? You mean us - Great Britain, at war?' Johnny had allowed himself to be distracted at the newsstand and must have missed something important.
'My God, do you really have no idea why I sent you to the Balkans?' Sir George looked dubious. 'You are aware that the Foreign Secretary believes that making concessions to Serbia is vital to sustaining the Entente with France and Russia? Didn’t you notice that he championed Serbian territorial claims over Albania's at the Treaty of London?'
Johnny shrugged, 'It was before I joined the service.'
Sir George sighed impatiently. 'The point is, Swift, there is a policy of increasing the security of the Entente Cordial through Serbia. I believe it was Bismarck who said that the next war in Europe will come out of some damned foolish thing in the Balkans. It's vital to know what the state of play is down there, so that any potential threat to peace can be mitigated.'
'You mean, to prevent a clash between Serb Nationalism and Austrian Imperialism,' Johnny said - that much he'd worked out for himself.
'I’m more concerned about the Russians. They're the real problem here. They've turned Serbia into a client state to act as a barrier against Austro-Hungarian expansion into the Balkans, safeguarding Russia's own plans in that ghastly peninsula. In a potential diplomatic crisis the Russians won't care what the rights and wrongs are and will act to protect their interests. They’ll have the full backing of the French, who are desperate to ensure the Russians fulfil their treaty obligations and attack the Germans if a war breaks out. They've been pouring money into Russian train lines for years, to speed up their mobilisation.’
'I don’t understand why Serbia and the Balkans are so important,' Johnny said. None of this had been in any of the dispatches or minutes that he’d copied out during his year of clerical servitude.
Sir George picked up a bust of Napoleon as he patiently explained the finer points of France’s diplomatic strategy. 'Serbia and the Balkans are important, Swift, because to the French way of thinking the Russians are most likely to participate in a war against Germany if it begins in the Balkans against Austro-Hungary. The Serbians will absorb large numbers of Austrian troops, allowing the Russians to unleash even larger numbers of Cossacks against Eastern Prussia, thus reducing the burden on the French Army in the most critical period of any future war.'
He paused to put the bust down. 'In short, France and Russia have fixed their defence policy on Europe's most violent and unstable region. Which, Master Swift, was why I sent you there - not necessarily to get killed, although that would have been amusing, or to pay back the money you stole, but to be my eyes and ears, using that guttersnipe cunning to keep me one step ahead of the competition.' Libby had told him as much, but Johnny didn’t think that would have been tactful to mention.
'Unfortunately, you have failed spectacularly to provide me with one shred of useful information,' Sir George continued. 'The Austro-Hungarian Government have declared war on Serbia, Russia has begun part mobilisation, and it's only a matter of time before the French dr
ag us into things.‘
‘But that’s not possible!’ Johnny couldn’t believe it; his world was becoming unstuck.
‘It’s the very thing I sent you down there to prevent - Austro-Hungary's growing disputes with Serbia have escalated into war. The Russians will take the opportunity to further their influence in the region and maybe even get a port in the Mediterranean, under the guise of helping their Slavic brothers. Germany, Austria's ally, will see an opportunity to smash the growing power of Russia and declare war. France, not wanting to see their key strategic ally beaten, and hoping to right the wrongs of 1870, will attack Germany. And then Great Britain will inevitably have to step in and restore the balance of power and safeguard its interests.’ Sir George spoke with an accusatory tone, as if somehow, this was all Johnny’s fault.
'But we're under no written obligation,' Johnny managed to say. Humpty had told him so.
'Semantics - we still have an understanding. The French may not have learnt anything militarily from the Franco-Prussian war and can't wait to go haring off into Germany in a glorious Napoleonic cavalry charge, but they've certainly learned diplomatically. They've made sure that the Russians are able to mobilise and are insisting on our support, by every possible means.'
Johnny took a moment to absorb this and he wondered if the grand idea he'd had could still work with that level of escalation.
'The problem is, France view the Entente as a means of keeping Germany in check. For His Majesty's Government it has been a way of protecting our Empire. The assassination you failed to prevent, has exposed the inherent contradiction of being allies with our closest imperial rivals. Whitehall's policy is now somewhat garbled and can be interpreted as either pro or anti war. Currently, the British Government is calling for a conference to solve the crisis. If you know anything that could help bring about a diplomatic solution, I might overlook your collaborating with a foreign power, but otherwise...'
