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

got up to leave, but Jevtic called over. 'You can't leave good wine undrunk! We must have a song - stay, stay!' The others around him joined the chant. It was clear that they wouldn't be able to leave quietly.

Johnny smiled. 'We'd better do as they ask. The idea is to appear the same as everyone else.'

Chapter 22

Misko Jovanovic lit another cigarette and unable to remain still, paced along the platform of Doboj station, searching for the man he'd arranged to meet.

This had all started one terrible morning two weeks before, when he’d been woken from the sleep of the innocent by two peasants, who had come to his home in Tuzla. They’d handed him a note from his friend Veljko Cubrilovic, asking him to, "Look after these things”. Jovanovic had asked the peasants what "these things" were and to his dismay they had untied six bombs and four pistols from around their belts and placed them on his kitchen table.

Jovanovic had not been able to believe what was happening; he was a pillar of the community - a respected businessman. He'd been married less than a year and had a newborn baby. He’d felt sure that "these things" were to be the ruin of everything.

'They're from the honourable teacher,' one of the peasants had said.

Veljko Cubrilovic was one of his closest friends, his child's godfather and a respected teacher. They were both members of the Sokol, an organisation that celebrated Pan-Slavic culture. Veljko had introduced him to Narodna Odbrana, another patriotic organisation that celebrated Serbian culture, but also carried out covert activities, principally distributing illegal propaganda.

Jovanovic had been reluctant to join, but he had eventually decided that it was his patriotic duty to do all that he could for his people, even though distributing pamphlets was a far cry from handling weapons.

The peasants had started to look anxious and Jovanovic saw that it had become dangerous to be with him. 'The things belong to some students,' one of them had said, as if that settled everything.

'I don't know any students,' Jovanovic had replied, trying not to shout.

'They will be at the Serbian Reading Room at nine o'clock.'

Jovanovic had hidden the weapons and then hurried to meet the students. The Serbian Reading Room was on the floor below his apartment, directly above a cinema he'd just opened.

They’d looked bad, Jovanovic remembered. The two of them had made an effort to clean themselves up, but they’d still looked as if they'd been sleeping rough for days.

Jovanovic had taken them into a side room where they could talk. He’d been relieved they were there, although he hadn’t been able to stop shaking. The small one, Gavrilo, had seen this and had stared at him coldly throughout the whole interview. Jovanovic's relief at seeing them had soon started to fade when they asked him to take the weapons on to Sarajevo. Jovanovic had explained as firmly as he dared that there was no way he was prepared to take that kind of a risk.

In the end, he’d agreed to look after the weapons. He couldn't force them to take them back and Gavrilo, the one who'd stared at him, had said that someone would come in a couple of days, and had then asked for a way that he would be able to identify himself to Jovanovic. Jovanovic had suggested a box of his favourite brand of cigarettes, Stefanija. He was going to need them.

He’d had to wait ten days with the weapons hidden in a box under his dining room table before another young man had turned up. This one was slightly older and much better dressed than the previous two and wore a black tie. He’d shown Jovanovic a box of Stefanija cigarettes and had introduced himself as Danilo Ilic.

That had been yesterday morning and to Jovanovic's horror, Ilic had told him to put the weapons in a discreet package and find someone to take them on the following day to Doboj, a town up the line. Ilic had explained that he couldn't carry the weaponry in his pockets and as he was a stranger in town, the gendarmes could well stop him.

There wasn't anyone else to take them and Jovanovic had business in Doboj, so reluctantly he’d said he'd take them himself. They’d agreed to meet in Doboj Station's waiting room, early the next morning.

When Jovanovic got to Doboj, with the weapons in the most inconspicuous box he could find, wrapped with newspaper, there was no sign of Ilic. He began to panic. The weeks of worry finally caught up with him and his only thought at that moment was to make as much distance between himself and the weapons as possible.

Jovanovic put the package on a table in the second-class waiting room, placed his cape over it and went to look around the station in case the student type had wandered off. The walk calmed him and then the realisation of what he'd done caught up with him. Jovanovic had left a box full of contraband weapons in the middle of a public area - anyone could steal or report them. Rushing back, he found that nothing was amiss. The station cat was sleeping peacefully on the package, digging its claws into his expensive cape.

He decided to take the package into town and leave it with a friend who owned a tailor's shop, after which, he went off to conduct his business, unencumbered.

Jovanovic got back to the station in time to meet the next train from Sarajevo. He could have wept with joy as the gaunt figure of Ilic at last appeared from the smoke and soot of the train.

*

Johnny was in a bad way. They'd spent most of the night at the wine shop and one drink had quickly followed another, in the bid to blend in. The Bohemians were very hospitable and