Johnny O'Brien - Day of the Assassins

There was a sharp whistling through the air and another explosion, so close this time that it peppered them with great clumps of dirt.

Jack was starting to panic. He could feel Zadok’s heavy breathing on the back of his neck. Again, he selected neutral, turned the ignition, and the four stroke burst back into life. He stabbed down on the gear pedal a second time. Now they could hear voices. The soldiers were emerging from the gun position in the woods and gingerly picking their way across the open fields towards the burning monastery. An officer barked orders. Jack’s palms were sweaty and he was having difficulty holding onto the grips. Through a supreme effort of self control he pulled back the throttle more gently this time, the engine tone increased, and he let the clutch out carefully. The knobbly back tyre slewed momentarily on the gritted path, and then, miraculously, it gripped and they were away. Jack was exhilarated. He twisted the throttle some more and the bike responded eagerly. He pulled in the clutch again and kicked up into second. They were in business.

Angus had stopped under the archway, revving his machine. It provided momentary cover from the bombardment and a temporary blind spot from the approaching soldiers. Both Angus and Anna craned round to check on Jack and Zadok’s progress.

“Come on!” Angus shouted.

Soon, Jack had drawn parallel with Angus’s bike and the two of them waited beneath the stone archway. They looked back at the monastery — fire was taking hold everywhere. A final shell whistled in over the heads of the approaching soldiers in the fields and slammed into the shed, which housed the arsenal. There was a moment of quiet and then the whole structure wobbled briefly before the final explosion.

“There goes the arms cache.”

“And with it, the evidence that Pendelshape was here.”

“You ready for this?” Angus said.

“No,” Jack replied.

“Well, you’ll have to be. We’ve only got one chance. Soon as I say ‘go’ let’s hit it. Hard.”

Angus twisted his throttle. “Go!”

Angus red-lined each gear in turn as he and Anna screamed off down the track away from the monastery gate, a plume of dust rising high into the air behind them. Jack, trying not to think, crouched low on the bike, gunned his engine and set off in pursuit.

To the right of the farm track leading to the monastery, soldiers were fanned out across the fields — about twenty of them. As soon as they saw the bikes, there was wild consternation. But Jack and Angus were quick. In ten seconds the track would lead them into the forest. They had a clear run. But suddenly, three uniformed soldiers emerged from the woods, on the track thirty metres ahead. They were staring straight at the two bikes bearing down on them and fumbling clumsily for their rifles. Jack’s heart sank, but then, only ten metres ahead of him, he heard Angus drop a gear and the four-stroke MT350E wailed. Suddenly, the front wheel of Angus’s machine popped high into the air and, with Angus standing proud on the foot rests, and a rather surprised Anna clinging desperately to his torso, his friend pulled a twenty metre wheelie straight at the unfortunate soldiers, who dived for cover. In five seconds it was over, the front wheel touched down again and Angus was through and into the cover of the woods, closely followed by Jack, who now sported a very wide grin. He heard Zadok behind him whoop in delight and he slapped Jack on the back as they powered on.

“Well done, my friend!”

Suddenly, there was a crack behind them, curiously muffled by the dense woodland and the roar of the bike engines. One of the soldiers had risen from the mud and just managed to let loose a single rifle shot. It caught Zadok square in the back with the force of a pile driver. For a moment, Jack didn’t know what had happened. He twisted round, but Zadok was already slumped behind him, the pressure of his grip around Jack’s torso weaker.

“You must go on Jack. I have done my part. You go.”

With a supreme effort, Zadok, rose from the saddle and pushed himself free from the moving bike, landing in the ditch at the side of the track.

Jack looked back in horror, and brought the bike to a sharp halt. Zadok was still breathing, and looked up at him weakly, “Go!” He groaned.

The soldiers were now running hell for leather down the track towards them. One was kneeling and aiming his rifle. It bucked in his hands and Jack felt the bullet whistle past his head. Ahead, Angus had gone, leaving only exhaust fumes in his wake. Jack couldn’t wait. “I’m sorry, Zadok.”

Jack revved the engine, dropped the clutch and powered off down the woodland track in pursuit of Angus and Anna.

This was the day. Sunday 28th June 1914. Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie would soon pass right before Jack and Angus in a procession of cars on their royal visit to Sarajevo. The town of Sarajevo was set in the centre of a great bowl surrounded by mountains — the lower slopes wooded, the higher ones heath land. Jack thought he would be entering a European town, but he had been struck by the number of minarets. This really felt like a divided city. People spoke a number of different languages and they wore different clothes. Even at night their customs were varied. Anna had explained, “…the clock of the Catholic cathedral strikes at two a.m. Shortly after, you’ll hear the bell of the Eastern Orthodox Church and later, the Sahat Tower near Beg’s Mosque. The Sahat strikes eleven times, Turkish time. Even when everyone is asleep, the counting of the hours shows we are all different…”

Jack, Angus and Anna had made good their escape from the monastery. Anna knew the hills well and had found them a shepherd’s hut above Sarajevo where they could spend a fitful night. Early on Saturday morning, they had sunk the two bikes in a woodland lake. As the last bubbles floated to the surface, Jack worried that Angus was going to cry. They had walked the remaining distance to Sarajevo. With the raid on the monastery and the death of Zadok, the second assassination cell, set up by Pendelshape and Jack’s father, had been fatally compromised. Anna had decided to take a risk and contact the main assassination group in Sarajevo, following a pre-arranged emergency plan. Jack and Angus had little choice but to follow.

Their rendezvous was with only two of the gang — Princip and Ilic. It took place in the rundown Cafe Miljacka in a dusty back street. Jack had not known quite what to expect from his first encounter with the assassins, particularly Princip, about whom he had heard and read so much. Here was a man who was unknown to the world now, but within twenty-four hours would become a household name. The meeting was inauspicious. Princip was skinny and somewhat dishevelled with dark eyes and a thin moustache. He was furtive and nervous. Communication was difficult. A package was handed over at the meeting. Inside was one of the few pistols that had been smuggled into Bosnia with the gang. It wasn’t clear from the meeting what Jack and Angus’s role was to be… but it was obviously assumed that, because of their association with Pendelshape, if all else failed, they would intervene in a way that would ensure that the Black Hand would succeed. After only twenty minutes, the meeting ended.

Now, standing behind a growing crowd of people on the Appel Quay, Jack thought it incredible that he knew precisely the course of events that was about to unfold. He was already aware of every detail of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s visit — he had seen it all in Point-of-Departure . In just a few minutes Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie, would die.

Suddenly, in the distance, they heard a muted explosion. A ripple of consternation ran through the crowd. Voices were raised; there was confusion. A car drove rapidly down the road, then a second. There were a few muted cheers as a third car passed. Jack caught a fleeting glance of hat feathers and finery over the heads in front of him… then the Archduke and Sophie and their pursuing entourage were gone. There was a rumour in the crowd that a bomb had been thrown at the Archduke, but the would-be assassin had been mobbed by the crowd, and the Archduke was bravely continuing with the tour…