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

'Is it really?' Johnny replied, not sure how to respond to that statement.

‘Zerajic showed us that we too could be like the Russians and take action against our oppressors,' she said and handed him his cap back. ‘If you want to be a revolutionary, you’ll do well to remember these things.’

Johnny looked solemnly at the bridge where Zerajic had made his attempt to assassinate Governor Varesanin, before turning his gun on himself.

‘Hello there. How are you?’ He looked around but the girl with the mocking eyes had disappeared. ‘You took a hell of a beating the other night.’

Johnny saw that the good looking man who’d removed his cap was advancing towards him. ‘You probably don’t remember me. You were getting your wounds attended to in the medical room. It’s Pusara, Mihajlo Pusara. I’m a clerk at City Hall.’ Johnny shook the offered hand. ‘I usually meet a friend or two for lunch at this time - would you care to join us?’

‘That’s good of you,’ Johnny said, ‘but I have very little money.’

‘Nonsense, it’s on me. The very least I can do for a hero of our people – the man who dared to insult the Governor and lived to tell the story.’

*

Danilo Ilic looked at his kebab, deciding whether or not he could eat it. He had a stomach ulcer and didn’t wish to aggravate it any further.

His best friend, Gavrilo Princip, was making him anxious. Ilic had known Gavrilo since he’d been a boy boarding in his mother’s house. Ilic was five years his senior and had taken Gavrilo under his wing, introducing him to his friends and his ideas. Now there was no holding him back, as he persisted in the need to assassinate the tyrant.

‘Are you sure now is the right moment to act, Gavrilo?’ Ilic asked, pushing his plate back. His friend had continued the discussion from his mother’s house to the cafe and it was gravely interfering with Ilic’s appetite.

‘How can it not be? We have the means, you have recruited most of the other cell and the tyrant will be here within the month. All the pieces are in place for us to win a great victory for our people – are they not?’ Gavrilo asked, turning his hard, piercing eyes on Ilic.

‘Yes, they are.’ Ilic looked away. He’d begun to recruit people to form a second cell after he’d received Gavrilo’s instructions from Belgrade. ‘They are good men; nonetheless they’re young and largely unproven.’

‘What does that matter, if they believe in what we are trying to achieve,’ Gavrilo said. Ilic nodded his agreement, but he wondered if his friend was trying to reassure himself about his own lack of experience.

Ilic knew he would have to support the other cell. When the time came he might also need others, but he was reluctant to take the risk of recruiting any further members into the cell. Ilic could feel his friend’s eyes boring into him, searching for any sign of weakness.

Gavrilo’s eyes at last turned from Ilic as someone approached their table. ‘Hello Danilo,’ Mihajlo Pusara said. Ilic nodded a hello to his friend as he joined them. ‘Gavrilo, good to see you back in Sarajevo. Nedjo received the clipping I sent, then?’ Pusara asked.

‘You sent it to him?’ Gavrilo asked abruptly.

‘I saw the announcement for the Archduke’s visit in the newspaper and sent Nedjo a clipping,’ Pusara said, looking surprised by Gavrilo’s manner. ‘It is well known that Nedjo intends to make an attempt on the life of a Hapsburg dignitary.’

’Naturally,’ Gavrilo said bitterly.

‘And now look, you are here. Ready to act.’ Pusara said, pleased with himself. Pusara signalled to someone lingering in the doorway. ‘Come Jovo, don’t be shy - join us.’

Gavrilo glared. ‘I'd already planned to act against the Heir. When Nedjo received the clipping, we decided to work together…’ he trailed off as they were joined by a bruised and battered figure.

Pusara smiled, ‘This is Jovo. You can talk freely in front of him.’

‘Yes, we know him. He is a boarder in my mother’s house,’ Ilic said. ‘You seem to be turning up a lot today.’

The newcomer blushed and shrugged, embarrassed.

‘You can trust him. He insulted the Governor and took a beating for his trouble,’ Pusara said.

‘Is that true?’ Princip asked Jovo.

‘Yes, but it was nothing - I’ve had far worse,’ he said with an air of arrogance that Ilic disliked.

‘Your accent - where are you from?’ Ilic asked. He felt that there was something odd about how Jovo spoke that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

‘I’ve been studying in France,’ Jovo answered and Ilic felt his curiosity rise.

‘Where?’

‘Paris, but I travelled a lot.’

‘We have friends in France. Have you met Vladimir Gacinovic?’ Ilic asked. Many Bosnians, including leading figures of the Young Bosnian Movement had studied in France, so it seemed natural that this stranger had also.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t have the honour of meeting any of our people there, I er, had certain other distractions,’ Jovo said, looking at Ilic’s half-eaten meal. ‘I say, can I have that? I’m sorry, but I’m starving and have no money for food.’

Before Ilic could refuse, Gavrilo pushed his plate towards Jovo. ‘Of course. There is no shame in being poor and hungry,’ Gavrilo said as Jovo started to eat.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I was going to buy you a meal,’ Pusara said and signalled to a waitress.

‘I see you’re reading, “The History of the French Revolution”,’ Princip commented approvingly.

‘Yes, I’m just getting to grips with it all,’ Jovo replied, looking at the book. He’d forgotten that he had it with him. ‘There is much I need to learn.’

‘There is much we could teach you,’ Gavrilo said.

‘I’m eager to learn.  All I could really read when I was away was