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

you saying?' The Colonel was beside himself. Franz Ferdinand's visit was a make or break issue for any serious, career-minded officer.

'It has been suggested that perhaps there should be a local delicacy on the menu, aside from the fish of course. It could be interpreted as an insult to the loyal subjects of Bosnia, if something produced locally wasn't offered to His Imperial and Royal Highness.'

'I see.' Von Merizzi looked ruffled. 'This is appalling. Consolidating local support for the Monarchy is key to maintaining a stable government in the province.'

'Yes sir, after some not inconsiderable wrangling and negotiation I managed to reach a compromise on a local wine being served - a Zilavka.' Breitner paused. 'If I could have the Governor's approval for its addition to the wine list, and perhaps a letter of authorisation to ensure delivery, then the loyalty of our subject people can be assured. At dinner at least.'

'Yes, quite,' von Merizzi said, ringing the bell for his orderly.

*

The waiter had given up trying to take Johnny's order and had started to smirk at him, which rankled Johnny more than the attempts to move him on. Princip had turned up, which had appeared promising for a while, until he and Ilic started to argue, no doubt about the assassination. They gave no indication that they would be doing anything other than arguing for the rest of the day.

Johnny was on the verge of giving up and going to meet Breitner when a tall man sailed into the café's garden and greeted Ilic. The man looked a few years older than the other members of the group Johnny had met, which fitted in with what Ilic had told him about the third man.

When Ilic finally left with the stranger, Johnny decided to chance it. He shrugged a goodbye to the waiter, before hurrying after Ilic and the tall man. He followed them up Cumurija Street, towards the centre of the city. He saw Ilic hand the man a metal object, the size of a half decent hip flask and mime how to use it. Johnny smiled; he’d found the last man.

He continued to trail after them as they walked through the square in front of the Catholic Cathedral and watched as they proceeded to the Hotel Sarajevo. He waited a minute then followed them into the hotel, taking out his last carefully hoarded crown.

*

Breitner focused on the gold, floral decoration on the ceiling of General Potiorek's study. Even though he was standing, Breitner felt a little like Sigmund Freud giving a consultation. He looked down at General Potiorek, staring impatiently at him as he reclined on a green and red chaise lounge. The Governor's close cropped hair and neatly trimmed moustache added to the severity and dignity of his manner. General Potiorek was the very embodiment of the Austrian military, even in his shirt sleeves. Breitner had evidently disturbed him while he was resting.

'It was very good of you to see me, Your Excellency.'

'Yes, yes - what do you want?' The Governor regarded him coldly. He reminded Breitner of the commandant of his military academy. They both made him feel like an outsider, a Hungarian and a Jew, although he was never sure if either title fitted him. Breitner's parents had converted to Catholicism and fully assimilated into the Magyar way of life, going so far as to send their youngest son off to do his duty as an officer cadet.

The only true identity Breitner had ever felt was that of a soldier. He loved the discipline and ritual of the army. When he joined the Intelligence Bureau of the General Staff, Breitner thought he'd found a place where he could actually belong. Under the guidance of Colonel Redl, a fellow outsider from the East of the Monarchy, Breitner learnt counterintelligence, the work he was born to do.

After Redl was exposed as a spy and Breitner had been banished, the only thing he had left was his sense of duty. Duty was his life raft in an ever volatile and unpredictable world, even if that meant further sacrificing what was left of his career for 'The Ogre'. He wondered if maybe that's why he had an affinity with the strange Englishman. They were both looking for approval from men who would never give it.

'Your Excellency, I must urge you to cancel tomorrow's Royal visit. I believe His Imperial and Royal Highness Archduke Franz Ferdinand would be in mortal danger if he comes to Sarajevo.'

The Governor was speechless for a moment; the absurdity of Breitner's statement was beyond his comprehension. Breitner really did feel as if he was psychoanalysing Potiorek. The Governor had cut himself off so completely from what was happening outside the walls of his residence that he had no way of understanding the danger he faced, irrational or otherwise.

'Herr Breitner, you are aware that the manoeuvres were shortened from four days to two? Not to mention that the scale of the Archducal visit was significantly reduced.'

'Yes, Excellency.' Breitner knew the Governor had planned a much longer visit for the Archduke, complete with excursions and shooting parties.

'There was even uncertainty about whether or not the Archduke would make the visit, up until the last minute. In spite of that, the manoeuvres were a tremendous success. The Archduke is extremely pleased and you want me to cancel the crowning glory of his visit?'

'There's a clear threat to the Archduke, from...'

Potiorek cut him off. 'You people see phantoms everywhere.' Governor Potiorek had given the same response to the local police when they'd tried to warn him of the possible dangers to the Heir. 'There has never been any significant political unrest here, Breitner.'

'Your Excellency, an agent of mine has infiltrated a Young Bosnia cell, here in Sarajevo. If I could have a detachment of gendarmes I can arrest them now without any effect on the Royal