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

if there are thirty seven pockets on a roulette wheel, you have a one in thirty seven chance of the ball landing in the pocket you have bet on. But if the wheel has a bias or fault, it lands on certain pockets with more frequency than the others, shortening the odds. You, of course, have to know which pockets.'

'Which of course, you do.' Johnny didn't believe any of it.

'Yes, with a little help from my general. How do you think I got our stake?'

'I'm sure your general was most obliging,' Johnny said struggling with his bow tie.

'Johnny, really!' Libby snatched the tie away from him and roughly fastened it around his neck.

'Libby, this is absolute tosh. I'm not going to get carried away on your gambling mania again.'

'Mr Jagger won fourteen thousand pounds in one night, which of course was considered to be a lot of money forty years ago, but still not to be sniffed at.' Libby smiled. 'You are adorable when you're confused, dearest.'

'That can't possibly be true.' A win that big could set them up for life, Johnny realised.

'You've heard, "The Man who Broke the Bank in Monte Carlo" - it's performed in music halls, so it has to be true," Libby said mockingly, while forcing him into badly fitting tails. 'My general and I have spent the past three nights in the officers' club with the faulty wheel and I'm absolutely positive.'

'How can you be sure after three nights?'

'I was confirming what my general had already discovered. He's spent weeks observing the roulette wheels.'

'But this is fantastic. Why isn't everyone doing it?'

Libby smiled like a Venus flytrap - she knew she had him. 'Because most casinos use new wheels which are less prone to the fault, and they rebalance and realign them regularly. Or they move the wheels around so you don't know which one has the fault, or they change the numbering on the pockets. The staff who run the officers' club might not even know the wheel's faulty or they might think that the people in this backwater, most of whom have never set foot in a casino before, are either too honourable or too stupid to exploit the fault.' Libby smiled acidly, 'Which of course, is where someone like you comes in.'

'Because your general won't use the bias? He's a real sportsman who believes in fair play.' Johnny had heard of such people, when he was a schoolboy.

'Yes, that, and I asked him not to. You'd be surprised what men do when I ask them.'

'No I wouldn't,' he said wryly.

*

Nedjo Cabrinovic saw Princip as he turned onto the embankment. Coughing, Nedjo quickened his pace. He was late and knew Gavro would be annoyed, but it couldn't be helped. There had been a terrible row at home. His house lay on the route the tyrant would take along Franz Josef Street and his father had been so desperate to show his loyalty to the Hapsburgs, that he was going to fly the Imperial flag from their home.

Nedjo had resorted to hiding the flagpoles, but after much frantic searching it became clear that his father blamed his mother for their disappearance. Nedjo had been forced to tell him where they were before matters became violent.

'Where have you been?' Princip asked, as Nedjo caught up with him. His sharp tone annoyed Nedjo and he shrugged indifferently.

'We're meeting at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, in the pastry shop on Cumurija Street. Don't be late,' Princip told him, with a hint of scorn.

'So we are to act on Vidovdan?' Nedjo asked. His exclusion from the preparations had left him feeling slighted, but at least now he would be able to prove himself a hero on such an important day.

'We are,' Princip replied. As they walked along by the river, he told him the plan, leaving out one vital detail.

'What about my weapons?' Nedjo hadn't seen them since Gavro and Trifko disarmed him, during the trip from Belgrade.

'What of them? Did you take the risk bringing them across the border?' Princip asked.

'No, but I would have, had you not ...'

'You will receive your weapon tomorrow, if you turn up,' Princip growled, interrupting Nedjo. 'Here take this.' Gavro passed him a twist of newspaper.

'What is it?'

'Dead men tell no secrets,' Gavro said and hurried away.

Nedjo returned home in a dark mood and watched in disgust as his father decorated their house with the hated yellow and black flag. Was it any wonder Princip and his friends didn't trust him and thought he was incapable of action, he reflected angrily.

'How can you bend your knee to these people, Father?'

Vaso Cabrinovic shook his head in annoyance. In his view he was merely being practical. He brushed his son's idealism aside. 'You live under the Emperor and you're enjoying all the benefits he provides, Nedeljko. If you don’t like living under my roof you can always go somewhere else.'

'Don't you see how you betray our people?'

'You're betraying our people Nedeljko, keeping them in the dark ages, with idiotic dreams.'

His father's words provoked a coughing fit in Nedjo. This man, who everyone called a police informant, who put his livelihood before his freedom and that of his people, thought him a traitor.

Nedjo managed to control his coughing and looked at the blood on his hands, 'Tomorrow, on Vidovdan, we shall see who is and who is not a traitor,' he said quietly. He had nothing left to lose.

*

After dinner, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his consort repaired to the hotel foyer, to hold court and engage their guests in small talk.

Breitner stood as near as he dared and surveyed the scene. This was the place where the whole thing had started for him, when he had press-ganged Johnny into this ridiculous situation.

The Duchess was proudly telling