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

grace, picking her up and swinging her round towards the bed. He hadn't realised just how much he'd missed her until he tasted the violets on her lips again.

'What are these new tricks you promised?' Johnny asked.

'No, no - bath time,' Libby said sharply, and gracefully disentangled herself from his grasp. 'What on Earth are you wearing, Johnny?' Libby grabbed the lapels of the battered jacket Breitner had given him and pulled it off his shoulders. 'Oh never mind, I'll ring down for something. The moustache can stay - I rather like it.'

Johnny didn't argue and got undressed while she drew the bath. From past experience he assumed that this whole performance was some type of head girl foreplay, and after the past few weeks he'd had, with barely more than the clothes he stood up in, a nice long soak with Libby sounded just the thing.

However, much to Johnny’s disappointment, she fended him off as he fumbled with the fastenings of her dress. 'Johnny, we haven't got time for nonsense. I've got so much to tell you. I’ve had an incredible week touring Sarajevo's brothels and gambling dens.'

'So you haven't actually been "scouring the streets" looking for me?' he asked sarcastically. It didn't surprise him.

'Don't be a bore. Where else was I going to look for you?' Libby asked, pushing him into the bath.

'You could have gone to Ilidze Spa as we arranged,' Johnny said, but he couldn't really fault her reasoning.

'As it happens, I did go there…for a while. I met a splendid old gentleman who knew the lay of the land.' Libby made a few tentative strokes with a scrubbing brush. 'A retired general from the British Army, no less.'

'Oh, really? How nice for you,' Johnny said brusquely - that didn't really surprise him either.

'Yes, it was actually,' she replied. 'He's touring Europe's spas, desperate to find a cure for his gout and bilious and all of the other blights that affect those fortunate enough to have lived a life of hedonism and vice.'

'Honestly, Libby, for a sensible woman your head is very easily turned.' Her gushing tone annoyed Johnny. All he'd managed to accomplish was a minor, rather irritating flirtation with a belly dancer.

'Don't be ridiculous, Johnny. My general's far too old and infirm to inconvenience me with anything like that. Besides, we had far more important things to worry about.'

Johnny wasn't sure he believed Libby. This general sounded a kindred spirit to his uncle, who was far from infirm: fortified with brandy he was capable of anything. For all Johnny knew, this general may even have been his uncle, blundering through the backwoods of Europe, one eye on a popsy and the other looking out for "the boy".

The thought gave Johnny hope as Libby scoured the skin off his back. 'You wouldn't believe how much the soldiers are paid out here. They're considered to be on active service and are paid as such. Not to mention all their admin chaps and support staff.'

'How interesting.' The last thing Johnny wanted was a lecture on the pay and conditions of the Austro-Hungarian military.

'But don't you see what that means?' she said, increasing the brutality of her brushing.

'I'm not getting a job in the...' Libby cut him off with a sharp backhand smash with the scrubbing brush.

'Don't interrupt. Apparently, there were no brothels in Bosnia until the Austrians and Hungarians came. Can you believe it? Now there are thousands of camp followers of every description, who've come from all corners of the Monarchy to provide the type of diversions soldiers need. The Austro-Hungarian authorities have even colour coded the brothels, according to rank.'

Johnny understood then why Princip had been so worried about the corrupting influence of Austro-Hungarian rule.

'Sarajevo's a boom-town at the best of times Johnny, but with the manoeuvres it's a bloody gold rush. The city's swarming with nearly two army corps' worth of officers, bursting to the seams with money and ripe for the picking.' Libby stopped scrubbing and lost in excitement, began to wave her arms about dramatically as she spoke. 'I had a little flutter at roulette while my general was showing me around some of the more choice establishments.'

'Don't tell me you broke your general and now you need me to....what? I've got no money, Libby. I'm no use to you,' Johnny said, rubbing his mutilated back.

'No, you see, that's where you're wrong, Johnny. You're just the hapless fool I need. I've managed to put together a reasonable stake, but I need a player. I did have an Austrian officer lined up, but you're much better. Just the sort of lumbering great oaf who wins a fortune and nobody suspects anything other than blind luck.' Johnny flinched as she resumed her scrubbing.

'But I never win, Libby, not at roulette anyway. The game defies strategy and reason.' Johnny grabbed the brush and pulled her towards him - he'd had enough. 'Now, about these new tricks of yours?'

'What if I told you that roulette wasn't altogether a game of chance, and that you can in fact predict the numbers that are going to come up, without using one of your brilliant strategies?'

Johnny let the brush slip through his fingers. Libby had tapped his other overwhelming base desire.

*

Breitner was relieved to see that Franz Ferdinand was in good humour and enjoying the fine dinner which Governor Potiorek had organised at the Hotel Bosnia in the company of more than forty local dignitaries, all of whom were showing due deference to the Heir and his Consort.

The dining room windows had been thrown open so that ‘The Blue Danube’ could flow around the diners, carried in on the evening breeze from the Sarajevo garrison band out on the lawn below.

Breitner marvelled at General Potiorek's meticulous attention to detail, which ensured the comfort and entertainment of the Heir Apparent, if