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

Princip turned off the embankment and began to make his way to the cemetery, envisaging Zerajic as he opened fire on the Governor. The first shot had hit the step of the driver's seat, the second had narrowly missed Varesanin's face. The Governor had thrown himself forward as Zerajic fired the third shot, which missed, but left a hole in the back of the coach where his chest would have been. Zerajic had desperately fired two more shots at the back of the coach as it drove away and then put the gun to his head. He had saved the last bullet for himself.

Princip entered St Mark's Cemetery, raging inside as he recalled the story of how General Varesanin had stopped the coach when it crossed the river, and seeing that his assailant was down, had coolly approached Zerajic as he lay dying in the mud, coughing up blood. Varesanin had kicked him, screaming, 'You filthy cur - you scum!'

Princip found Zerajic’s grave in an unmarked corner of the cemetery saved for criminals and suicides. The Young Bosnians had discovered it and made it fit for a hero. Princip stood before the grave and repeated Zerajic’s dying words, ‘I will be revenged.’

He swore to follow Zerajic's example - to fight their oppressors and avenge his death. He remembered that Zerajic had been wearing a red and black badge, depicting a man with a scythe, which he'd copied from the cover of Kropotkin's book on the French Revolution.

Princip turned to make his way home to read Kropotkin and dream of the free society that would be created as a result of his actions on Vidovdan.

*

The officers around Johnny were losing heavily, their hopes and dreams vanishing as they consoled themselves with brandy and champagne. Not Johnny though - he was winning. He knew it wasn't luck, or skill or heart, but knowledge, and not even his knowledge but some randy old goat's. Even so, he was having the time of his life.

At that moment, Johnny didn't care if the whole bloody world fell down around him. For the first time since he'd been expelled from school he thought he might have a chance of controlling his fate. He could clear his debts and turn things around, or he could make a new start, pretend to be someone else - he seemed to have a talent for it. He just had to keep winning.

He hadn't lost his head completely and varied his bets, moving from black and red to odd and even numbers.

He went to place a split bet and knocked the hand of an Austrian lieutenant, who had a monocle and duelling scars. They apologised to one another and continued to play. Johnny swept in another pile of chips and went to place his next bet, putting down an even spread of the numbers and this time the officer with duelling scars matched him square for square.

They both won again. Johnny looked around and saw that he was getting a few curious glances from the people surrounding him. He adjusted his bet again and this time a couple of the other officers copied him. When their numbers came up they all cheered, loudly.

It was a bit galling, but there wasn't a lot Johnny could do without creating a scene. The officers were suspicious enough; he could hear them muttering about how a civilian was having all the luck, while the cream of the Empire lost.

He continued to adjust his bets - he'd made a note of complicated betting patterns which Libby had recommended. Nevertheless more officers began to copy Johnny, sensing victory over the house for the first time. They were quite blatant; a couple of them even slapped Johnny on the back and stood him schnapps, to show their thanks - for “the goose that laid the golden egg” as they called him.

The commotion they were creating inevitably began to attract the attention of the floor manager who, much to Johnny’s annoyance, came and stood behind him. It looked as if the manager was trying to work out if they were all cheating or if Johnny was acting alone.

Johnny tried to think. If the manager thought he was cheating he’d take the money back, have him beaten up and probably taken to the police. Breitner would be sure to find out why he’d missed his appointment at the Governor’s mansion then and he could kiss his commendation goodbye.

He knew that there would be safety in numbers and so started feigning friendship with the officers, shaking hands every time they won and trying to suggest to the manager that he would have to take them all on if there was any unpleasantness.

More and more people were coming to the table now as the money continued to flow. The next wave of bets nearly broke the bank and the manager decided to suspend play. The officers were furious, but the manager calmly placed a green sheet over the top of the wheel and instructed the croupier to re-fret the wheel.

After his recent experiences, Johnny knew when to cut and run. He started to gather up his chips; the numbers would be in a different order now and he’d never be able to exploit the wheel’s bias.

A swarm of beauties from the next room descended on the officers at the table, making them forget their complaints and coaxing them away from the wheel. He pushed one of the beauties off, hugged his chips to his chest and made an exit. He thought he saw the portly physique and fine whiskers of his uncle, but the figure was lost in a blur and the beauty was on him again, desperately tugging on his trousers. He tried to fight her off, but she clung on for dear life.

'Keep still, imbecile! I'm trying to get us out of here!' Johnny hadn’t recognised