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

Franz Ferdinand smiled approvingly as the guard snapped to attention and presented arms.

Breitner stayed out of the Archduke’s way, surveying the crowd. Most of them were hard to see, packed under the shade. He wondered whether if it had kept raining it would have thinned the crowd.

'Look lively, Breitner. You're with me,' Colonel von Merizzi said, hurrying towards him.

'Days of rain and then sunshine today. How is anyone going to see gunmen with all of these people, Colonel?'

'Breitner, stop playing the fool,' von Merizzi said impatiently. 'You're not going to hold us up any more.' The Royal couple were running twenty minutes late and von Merizzi seemed to feel that this was Breitner's fault. 'His Majesty has also requested that the motorcade drive slowly, so that he and his wife might enjoy the sights.'

'Of course he has,' Breitner said with a sigh and allowed the Colonel to march him towards the fleet of seven cars that were neatly lined up outside the station.

The Royal couple were courteously guided to the third car in line. A sleek, Graf & Stift double Phaeton, its convertible roof had been neatly folded down and rolled behind the back of the car.

The Archduke helped the Duchess into the right hand side of the back seat and sat next to her, on the left. Potiorek perched opposite them on a pull down chair. Count von Harrach, an officer from the Transport Core, sat in the front seat next to the chauffeur. Breitner knew that the large touring car belonged to the Count and that he’d put it at the Archduke’s disposal. Seeing the Royal couple seated, Breitner climbed into the front of the car behind them, next to Colonel von Merizzi.

Breitner was slightly relieved to observe a detachment of the Archduke's Special Security police climb into the first car. Then, with Imperial black & yellow flags flying, the motorcade moved off towards the first item on the programme, the inspection of Philippovich Barracks.

Chapter 35

The bright sunshine gradually woke Johnny from the first proper sleep he'd had for weeks. He listened briefly to the bustle outside, finding it strangely restful and comforting, but it was part of a world that no longer concerned or interested him.

He pulled Libby closer, immersing himself in the silky warmth of her honey blonde hair. Some of the chips he’d forgotten to change the previous night fell off the bed with a gentle, reassuring clatter. It was exactly a year since he'd watched Mata Hari dance on his first day in Paris and had begun his decline into debt.

That was all over now. He was in the clear and had concluded the sordid journey which Sir George had sent him on in a most satisfactory way.

'You are fantastic, Libby,' Johnny whispered.

'I know,' she murmured back, contentedly.

'Where did you learn to do that?'

'I told you - a very obliging general.'

'I didn't mean the gambling,' Johnny said. Libby turned over and slapped his face playfully. 'So, when shall we make our return to Paris? We must have won enough money to placate your husband and get my post back.'

'It'll take more than money to do that,' Libby said turning to face him. 'You'll still have to complete the report he asked for.'

‘You didn’t think that was very important last night, when you were persuading me to help you.’

‘Don’t be a bore, Johnny. The report’s important.’

'But what good is it going to do? Yes, the nationalists are very dangerous. Yes, they have the means and the will to do great harm.' The idea of having to write it all up didn't appeal to him.

'You're missing the point, Johnny. It's not about dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s; it’s about helping George further his career and providing him with something to dazzle his superiors. It was obvious that something was stirring between Austro-Hungary and Serbia, and he knew that you're an opportunist ‘street urchin’. If anyone could find out what was going on over here it was you. Either that or you'd have died in the process.'

‘I’m sure if I had died it wouldn’t have made much difference to you,’ Johnny said. Libby smiled and coiled herself firmly around him. As warm as she felt, he appreciated that Libby was as cold-blooded as they came. 'So if I could say that there was a plot to assassinate the Heir to the Habsburg throne, but that I'd foiled it and the Austro-Hungarian Government are deeply indebted to me, and that it is all thanks to Sir George - that would help, do you think?' he asked.

'I should think it would be useful.'

'Well, that's just what we'll tell Sir George, then. I'll pop along to see my chap in City Hall tomorrow, get my letter of commendation and we can be on our way.'

The noise outside started to change pitch, with the low murmur of crowded streets becoming cheering, accompanied by what Johnny thought was a military band playing the Radetzky March.

'I wonder what's going on out there,' Johnny said, half interested.

'It must be that tiresome Royal visit,' Libby replied, stifling a yawn.

'What?' Johnny's world tilted. The Archduke's visit hadn't been cancelled and it was his fault. He pushed Libby off and charged to the window. Franz Josef Street was lined with people, clearly waiting to see the Heir. Johnny started to get dressed.

'Johnny, what are you doing? Get back into bed at once!'

'Breitner was supposed to have cancelled it. I should have gone to meet him,' Johnny tried to explain as he struggled into his trousers, which still didn't fit.

'I take it this means you won't be getting your commendation now?' Libby asked, mildly amused by the spectacle he was making.

'To say the least!' Johnny replied, as he finished dressing and charged out.

*

Ilic met Mehmed Mehmedbasic at his position, outside