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

transport the weapons to Sarajevo for them. A local teacher in the underground had arranged a meeting for them and they'd gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to tidy themselves up before entering the city, not wanting to run the risk of being charged as vagrants.

Misko Jovanovic had been extremely distressed by their request and refused to take the weapons into Sarajevo. After some cajoling, Gavrilo had eventually persuaded him to look after the weapons until someone could collect them.

Gavrilo was relieved to have dumped his burden but he still felt edgy as he and Trifko neared the station. He saw a uniformed figure approaching and pulled Trifko into a side street. He’d already been recognised by an old schoolmate and didn't want to be seen by anyone who might know his political views and wonder why he was in the city.

'It's too dangerous to go straight to the station,' Gavrilo said. He knew they could be subject to spot checks while they waited for the train.

Trifko looked around nervously. 'We can go to the tavern near the station,' he suggested. Gavrilo agreed that would be as safe a place as any to try and stay out of sight. They both knew the city well from their school days and proceeded without further discussion.

Things could have been so different, Gavrilo reflected - but for new underwear he would be one of the very people he thought to avoid. Gavrilo's elder brother, Jovo, had been able to exploit the opportunities presented by their new Austrian masters, setting up his own business hauling lumber. Jovo hoped to give Gavrilo a similar opportunity when he left primary school at thirteen. He encouraged their parents to send Gavrilo to military school in Sarajevo, a good prospect for a peasant's son.

On the way, his brother decided to buy Gavrilo new undergarments, so that the poor boy from the villages wouldn't be disgraced as an officer cadet. The shopkeeper, an old family friend, advised Jovo not to send Gavrilo to be a persecutor of his own people. He said that the Merchants’ School in Sarajevo would be a quicker way to make a profit and bring bread. His brother, ever the entrepreneur, agreed. Changing Gavrilo's fate forever, he found him lodgings in Sarajevo and enrolled him in the Merchants' School.

The three years that Gavrilo spent in the Merchants’ School, supposedly learning to be a capitalist, became his initiation into a new world of ideas and poetry, nationalism and anarchism. His eyes were opened to the suffering of his people and he knew that he must act to change things.

The meaninglessness of studying to be a merchant became too much and he implored Jovo to send him to the classical high school in Tuzla. Jovo eventually agreed, seeing it as an opportunity for his intelligent brother to enter a profession.

Trifko jabbed Gavrilo in the ribs sharply, interrupting his introspection. They'd reached the tavern and Trifko had spotted danger through the window. Nedjo was sitting inside making a spectacle of himself with a middle-aged man; from what Gavrilo could tell he was boasting about his success with the local women.

'I think we should continue to travel separately,' Trifko urged.

Gavrilo agreed. It would be too risky to meet Nedjo and they went straight on to the station. Gavrilo was glad to be leaving the city. He'd been a restless spirit during his time at school in Tuzla. He was badly treated by his teachers and missed classes, preferring to read and spend time with the other radical students. He’d eventually transferred to Sarajevo High School to avoid expulsion and joined the front line of nationalist protest.

*

Nedjo finally gave up on Gavrilo and Trifko and took the train from Tuzla on his own. They'd evidently decided to travel on to Sarajevo without him, thinking him unworthy or too dangerous to travel with, but Nedjo knew he would still get the opportunity to show himself to be a hero of his people.

He didn’t doubt that he'd find Gavrilo in Sarajevo. Trifko was going to his family in Pale, but Gavrilo was staying at his usual lodgings in the old town. They had much to discuss and organise; the newspaper clipping hadn't told them the date of the tyrant's visit or what he would be doing in Sarajevo.

Nedjo watched the familiar forests rush past his window, as the train carried him home to his family. He felt in good spirits, as he’d had an easy journey into Bosnia, using Trifko's documents, and without the encumbrance of the weapons he'd been able to travel freely and enjoy the hospitality of friends and family. Any resentment he felt towards Gavrilo and Trifko had been soothed by Jela, a generous girl he’d met in Tuzla, who had provided his food and lodgings while he waited. Nedjo grinned as he thought of how he would promenade her through Sarajevo.

'Nedeljko Cabrinovic.' Nedjo looked up with a start. Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed the train stop in Doboj and now he was being confronted by two police detectives who'd just got on.

'Detective Vila - hello again,' Nedjo grinned. He had bumped into Vila at the tavern while he'd been waiting for Trifko and Gavrilo.

'Do you mind if we sit with you?'

'Yes, please join me.'

The two men sat down opposite him and began to chat amiably. Nedjo was well acquainted with Ivo Vila, who was a frequent visitor at his father’s cafe.

'I thought I'd see you again,' Detective Vila said good-naturedly as the train began to slowly judder forward. They'd had a meal at the tavern, before Vila went off to meet his colleague and finish some formalities.

'Did you manage to get your business concluded?' Nedjo asked.

'Oh yes, just student idealists causing trouble about some play or some such nonsense. They're nicely locked up in Tuzla jail now,' Vila said winking. Nedjo