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

Libby. She’d put on a black negligee, which regrettably, covered her charms. She led him to the cashier where he exchanged his armful of chips and then they were out through a red and gold door into a seedy area where Johnny assumed the poor girls who worked there lived. He heard a shout and saw that the monocled lieutenant was following them.

'Damn - Matthias has seen us,' Libby said, quickening her pace, her boots clattering on the stone floor.

'Who?'

'The idiot I was going to use, before you turned up.'

‘Does he know about the biased wheel? Is he expecting a cut?’ Johnny asked.

‘Don’t be stupid!’

‘What does he want then?’ Johnny smiled. ‘Do I have another rival for your fickle affections?’

‘Johnny, please!’ Libby said urgently.

Matthias had started to run, but Libby knew what she was about. They were down another corridor and at the service entrance before he could catch them. Libby gave a stack of notes to a thick-set doorman and they were out and into a waiting taxi.

Johnny watched the river fly by as they were driven up the embankment. Tonight he was the victor and all the spoils would be his. Elated, he reached out and took Libby's hand. 'It worked. I can't believe we actually, bloody-well pulled it off!'

Libby smiled. 'They knew something was going on, that's why the manager sent the girls in to get the money back. It saves having a riot and having to rough up the gentlemen, but they didn't think you could possibly have been involved. They decided that you must have been copying the others, so they left you to the new girl.'

She started to straddle him. 'I must say, you do play the hapless gambler extremely well, Mr Swift. Reading your bets off a piece of scrap paper - genius!'

This time the tugging at his trousers finally brought them down. Johnny pulled open Libby's negligee, running his hands down the feathers of her bustier to the warm silk of her thighs and then feeling the satisfying snap of a garter. It was like breaking the seal of quality on a whole new world.

Chapter 34

Nedjo followed Princip's instructions, getting to Vlajnic's pastry shop just after eight. He found Danilo Ilic and Trifko Grabez in the back. It was Trifko's birthday and he was in high spirits, trying to impress the waitress by telling her that he was a true Serb, born on Vidovdan.

Nedjo greeted them and ordered three of his favourite cakes. He also regarded himself as a true Serb, but was in no mood to join their conversation. He opened a copy of ‘Narod’ which he'd bought on the way to the cafe and began to read. The paper was a fine Vidovdan edition, filled with poetry that celebrated the Serb spirit. Nedjo read it avidly, preparing himself for what he planned to be his last day on Earth.

He was still troubled by the arguments from the previous night; his mother held him responsible for his father's fury over the fiasco with the flagpoles. It had made leaving home all the more difficult, but he'd put his affairs in order, dividing his money and possessions amongst his closest relations. He'd then sent flowers to Jela, the sweet girl who'd helped him on the journey from Belgrade, to let her know he'd have to take this last promenade alone.

'Are you sure you wish to continue?' Nedjo looked up; Ilic was trying to draw him into the discussion he was having with Trifko. Nedjo ignored them and continued to read his paper. Trifko answered for him.

'What are you saying, Danilo? I thought you'd received word that we are to carry on.'

'Are you ready for the spiritual crisis you'll have to face as you strive to conquer death?' Ilic asked. Nedjo sneered. In his view this was typical Ilic claptrap, theoretical and highbrow.

'We must strike now - the time for talking is over,' Trifko replied.

'Are those your words or Gavrilo's?' Ilic countered.

'The Heir must be destroyed,' Trifko said speaking quickly to hide his uncertainty, or so it seemed to Nedjo. 'He cannot be permitted to invade Serbia and stop the unification of the South Slav people.'

'Very well.' Ilic saw that there was no point in continuing. 'We should go over the plan. He unfolded a copy of the Bosnian Post, which detailed the route the Royal motorcade would be taking through Sarajevo. 'We'll be positioned between the bridges on Appel Quay.' Ilic pointed on the map, to where Cumurija Street led onto Appel Quay. 'The other cell will strike here, with Jovo and myself, as the tyrant travels to the town hall. Nedeljko, you will be opposite them, on the riverside.'

'I know where to stand,' Nedjo said curtly. He wouldn't be told what to do by the likes of Ilic.

'Gavro will be two hundred yards further up, near Lateiner Bridge. Trifko, you will be last, on the Emperor's Bridge.'

'What greater gift could I be given on my birthday?' Trifko smiled - he'd been given the place of honour, where Zerajic had stood when he died for the cause.

'Trifko, you and Gavrilo will be ready in case the motorcade takes a different route. Otherwise you'll be the last in line, if the tyrant gets past the others.' Nedjo knew they expected him to fail, placed out in the open by the river, with schoolboys.

Nedjo was on his third cake by the time Princip arrived. 'You have the weapons, Gavro?' Nedjo asked as he joined them.

'I do.' Princip handed Nedjo one of the flask-shaped bombs. 'Today we follow Obilic's path and kill the Sultan on Vidovdan.' Nedjo was glad to hear that Gavro's resolve hadn't been undermined by Ilic's constant talking. 'Remember, it has a twelve second fuse, so count to ten before you throw it.'

'And my gun?' Nedjo asked, tying the bomb to