The Assassins by Alan Bardos (best novels in english txt) 📗

only people there. Ciganovic carefully passed Princip the sack, which he opened. There were some boxes of bullets and six, plain grey, rectangular bombs inside, each the size of a large block of soap and fitted with a safety cap.

'They're not ideal,' Ciganovic explained. 'They're the offensive type of bomb, made at the Kragujevac arsenal and filled with nails and pieces of lead. They're meant for military operations.'

Princip guessed the bombs were surplus from the war. He knew Ciganovic had such bombs, which was why they'd approached him for help.

'To use them, unscrew the safety cap, then hit the loop inside against something hard to prime, and throw. They have a twelve second fuse, so if you're close to the target you'll need to wait before throwing it.'

Princip looked at Nedjo - the bomb would be his primary weapon. He'd had to work at a typesetter while they'd learnt to shoot. He was the only one of them with a trade and they were desperately short of money.

'You can't be caught in Serbia with these things,' Ciganovic said. Gavrilo nodded agreement. He knew that the Serbian Government was still submitting to Austrian demands, which included the curtailing of subversive activities in Bosnia.

'Wouldn't it be safer to send the weapons on to us separately?' Gavrilo asked. They'd travelled to and from Sarajevo many times; their main concern was how to do it safely with the weapons.

'What do you think we are, a bloody post office? If you want safe, stick to your studies,' Ciganovic replied tersely.

'We will take the weapons. We are not scared of a little risk,' Nedjo said.

'Good - a true hero. You'll be travelling underground to Sarajevo,' Ciganovic informed them.

'There is an actual secret tunnel into Bosnia?' Nedjo asked in awe.

Ciganovic grinned, not quite believing what he’d just heard. Gavrilo was furious with Nedjo for asking such a ridiculous question. He didn’t want to give Ciganovic any reason to doubt them, not now when they were so close, but in the end Ciganovic chose to ignore the question.

'You'll take the steamer to Sabac and once there, hand this to a customs official called Popovic.' Ciganovic handed Princip a card with his initials 'MC' written on it. 'Popovic will arrange for you to be smuggled into Bosnia. Once you're over the border head for Tuzla - you're familiar with the place?'

Trifko and Princip nodded; they'd both been to school there. 'If you feel it's not safe to take the weapons with you to Sarajevo you can leave them with a local merchant, Misko Jovanovic.'

'We'll need to buy train tickets,' Princip said.

Ciganovic handed him a purse and Princip counted the money inside - one hundred and thirty dinars. 'That's not enough,' he complained.

'This is all I have.' Ciganovic gave him another twenty. Nedjo's wages had been forty dinars and Princip had pawned his coat for eight. That would have to do.

'It won't have to last you long,' Ciganovic grinned. The black humour wasn't wasted on the three. Then Ciganovic gave Princip a glass tube wrapped in cotton wool. 'Remember, dead men tell no secrets,' he said, and with that, he left them.

Princip looked at Trifko and Nedjo as the words sank in. They knew what was in the vial - cyanide of potassium. Each of them understood what had to be done for their cause, and were willing to sacrifice themselves for their people, but this was the first time they'd come face to face with the prospect.

Gavrilo saw that now was the moment to unite their purpose. 'We must swear that we will never betray one another or our sacred mission. We will not talk to anyone on our journey or tell anybody our purpose.'

'I swear,' Trifko agreed.

Nedjo did the same. 'I swear.'

All three listened to the guslar sing. Their mystic journey was about to begin, walking in the footsteps of their greatest heroes.

Chapter 9

Archduke Franz Ferdinand watched as the sunlight started to fade over Vienna, the heart of the Empire he would reign over one day. The marble hall of the upper Belvedere Palace gave an excellent view of the skyline, dominated by St Stephen's Cathedral, the great target for Turkish cannon.

Prince Eugene of Savoy had built the palace after his great victories over the Ottoman Turks, the last major threat to come from the East. Savoy drove them back, sacked Sarajevo and took Belgrade, establishing the Habsburg Empire as the preeminent power in Central Europe and the Balkans. Franz Ferdinand wondered whether if his Habsburg ancestors could have retained Belgrade from the Turks, many of the Empire's current difficulties could have been averted.

He looked up to God in frustration and found himself staring at a large ceiling fresco depicting the eternal flame of Prince Eugene of Savoy, with history celebrating his achievements.

The Heir Apparent was fifty one and still lived in the shadow of other men's achievements, while he waited in the wings to ascend the throne of an Empire that was slowly disintegrating. It infuriated him, but there was nothing he could do until he succeeded his uncle as Emperor.

He marched out onto the balcony to calm his frustration and smiled as a lone coach pulled up in front of the porte-cochere. Some of his anger lifted - Sophie, his wife, had returned. If he'd accomplished one great deed it was to marry the woman he loved, the Archduke thought with satisfaction. He'd stood here before leaving to give his Oath of Renunciation, making that marriage possible.

Franz Ferdinand came back into the marble hall to greet Sophie. She'd been in her early thirties when they married. It was said that her beauty had been starting to fade but the Archduke disagreed and watching her as she entered the hall he knew that marrying her was the most intelligent thing he'd ever done. It was certainly the