The Assassins by Alan Bardos (read novel full .TXT) 📕

I think you may have had a wasted trip,' Leo said as he ushered Johnny into his office. ‘We don't have a nationalist problem in Sarajevo.’ He was certainly friendly, even if he didn't really impress Johnny as someone who'd have his finger on the pulse of local affairs.

‘There have been reports of growing nationalism in the Balkans,’ Johnny said, trying to be as tactful as he could.

The Judge was about to offer Johnny a seat, then thought better of it, waving his hand to dismiss the absurdity of what Johnny had said. 'There is always unrest of one sort or another, whipped up by propaganda, sent across the border by the Serbian Government.’

'There is unrest - I mean, tensions between the authorities and the local population,' Johnny said.

‘Mr Swift, there is no significant political activity in Sarajevo. We have only had the usual criminal acts; perhaps if you're interested in that sort of thing you should talk to a detective.'

Pfeffer smiled and took Johnny to see Viktor Ivasjuk, who reminded Johnny of Simpson, his old Head of House, and who was just as intimidating.

'It's very good of you to see me, Mr Ivasjuk,' Johnny said after Pfeffer had made the introductions and left. Viktor's close-set eyes looked straight through Johnny, directly into his corrupted and tainted heart. Johnny would have confessed anything to the man, at that moment.

'I'm not entirely sure how I can help you,' he said.

'No one is.'

'So you thought you'd try Sarajevo's very busy Chief of Detectives,' Viktor said.

Johnny thought it better to dispense with the social niceties and cut straight to the crux of his problem. 'My instructions are to gather information about the pan-Slavic nationalist movements in the region.'

'I see.' Viktor immediately lost interest and started to read through the papers on his desk. He dipped a pen in an inkpot and started writing. Johnny almost gagged as he realised that the inkpot was a human skull. He assumed that it must be a stage prop and that the chap was into amateur dramatics. He thought it extremely unlikely, but it could be a way in.

'Alas, poor Yorick!' Johnny said with a smile. Viktor looked up at him, his eyes summoning all the elemental forces of darkness against Johnny.

'This isn't frippery, Mr Swift. It's the skull of Bogdan Zerajic.'

'You mean - it's actually real?'

Viktor turned the skull slightly to show Johnny a bullet hole.

'Yes, it is quite real. It belonged to a lunatic who tried to murder General Varesanin, our previous Governor, in 1910.'

'I see.'

'Zerajic shot at the Governor five times as he made his way home after opening our parliament, then saved the last bullet for himself.'

'And you didn't think to bury him?' Johnny asked. He couldn’t understand why this man kept a real skull on his desk and why he used it as an inkpot. Viktor was in a whole different league to the usual despots Johnny had dealt with in the British Civil Service. Viktor looked pleased by Johnny's reaction.

Johnny took a deep breath and steadied himself; he'd read about similar assassination attempts in the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy.

'You, don't think that this could have been some kind of protest by Bosnian nationalists? It was in 1910, did you say? Maybe it was connected to the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina.' That had only happened a year or so previously; Johnny felt pleased he was connecting the dots and made a note of his theory.

'We carried out a full investigation and found no evidence linking Zerajic to any nationalist group or ideology. His assassination attempt, if that was in fact what it was, seems almost accidental - he just blundered into the Governor. Zerajic had previously spent time stalking the Emperor when he visited Bosnia, but didn't act on his lunatic instinct. General Varesanin was not so fortunate. The investigation concluded that it was the action of a man, who broken by poverty and living a fantasy life, was seized by a fit of paranoia against the Governor.'

'So it was the act of a lone gunman? A madman.' Johnny crossed out his notes.

Viktor held the skull up to the light and spoke in much the same way that Johnny’s Head of House might have. 'Look at the contours of the skull - what do they tell you?'

'That he was a bad shot?' Johnny said dryly, trying to hide his unease. He had no idea what Viktor was talking about; all of this was totally beyond his area of expertise and experience. It looked like a perfectly normal skull to him, not unlike the one that had hung in the science lab at school.

'Zerajic was clearly a lunatic.' Viktor ran his hand along the top of the skull.

'You can tell that just from the shape of the skull?' Johnny asked and Viktor closed his eyes in annoyance. That wasn't the response he wanted.

'Are you familiar with Lombroso's theory of criminology?'

'No, I’m not.'

'Lombroso states that people are 'born criminal', which can be identified by an asymmetry of the face and cranium.' Viktor broke off as something occurred to him. 'Perhaps there is someone who could help you. Come back tomorrow.'

Johnny left City Hall and wandered through the jostling streets of the old town. He had no idea where he was or how to get home. He expected that the next bureaucrat the Chief of Detectives was sending him to, would give him the same old flannel and pass him onto someone else. He was going round in circles - he didn’t know how he could write a report about the nationalist situation if one didn’t exist, but knew he couldn’t go back to Paris empty handed. Johnny assumed that Sir George had known that all along and now he was trapped here, unable to go forward or back.

The friendly aroma of hookah pipes