Day of the Assassins (18 page)

Angus and Jack couldn’t believe what they saw. 

W
hat they saw before them was a rack of six assault rifles – but they didn’t look like rifles from the First World War.

“What are they?” Jack asked.

“L85A2s,” Angus replied matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“British army assault rifles. Not the old SA80s, either.”

“So they’re modern?”

“Bang up to date. British standard. Accurate to 400 metres. Ninety-five point six per cent reliability rating. Probably the best standard assault rifle in the world.”

Jack shook his head, “And you call me a boffin.”

Zadok opened a second cabinet. It was a veritable arsenal. There were two grenade launchers, two boxes of hand grenades and several ammunition clips.

“You’ve got enough stuff here to wage a small war… not just kill some archduke with a funny hat…”

“The English teacher has been generous… we are behind the times here, I think, we had no idea such weapons existed… and over here…” Zadok moved to the far end of the room and with an extravagant flourish swept away a mangy dust cover.

Angus’s jaw dropped, “Unbelievable…”

“What are they?”

Angus lowered his voice reverentially, “Jack – before you stand two Harley-Davidson MT350Es. American army issue, Rotax engines – four stroke, 30 bhp, 160 kg, 80 mph top end, 255 mm ground clearance…” He turned to Jack. It was as if he was having some sort of religious experience, “Jack… they’ve even got gun carriers…”

“So…” Zadok said, scarcely able to control his excitement, “The English teacher said you would know…”

“Know what?” Jack asked.

“How it all works.”

Angus smiled, eyeing the bikes, “Oh yes, Mr Zadok, we know how it works all right.”

“Excellent. The English teacher said this equipment is all modern English designs, the very latest and very best. I am not a military man, so I am afraid I have no idea where to start. But I suggest that Anna and I leave you here to check everything is in working order. Then you will be prepared to carry out the English teacher’s instructions. Anna and I will make preparations for the journey to Sarajevo. We should leave after nightfall.”

Anna and Zadok left them alone in the dingy outbuilding with its extraordinary array of twenty-first century firepower.

Angus turned to Jack as soon as they had gone, “I hope you know what’s going on – ’cos I don’t.”

Jack was concentrating hard, “So Pendelshape made three visits. Probably in quick succession. On the final trip, he brought all this stuff with him and set up this arms cache.”

“But why?”

“It’s just as we said, Angus. Pendelshape and Dad’s plan was never to help the assassins. Anna and Zadok still don’t know it, but the real plan is to betray them. They were going to stop the assassination.”

“But why do they need all this… kit?”

Jack shrugged, “Kind of makes sense. The bikes to get to Sarajevo easily and quickly. The weapons need to be good and reliable – just in case anything goes wrong. Remember, there are several potential assassins from the other cell that make their way to Sarajevo… and a whole network of supporters. I guess Dad and Pendelshape needed to be sure if it turned ugly they would be ready. Remember, they might need to hold out without a time signal for quite a while. And not only that…”

“What?”

“Well – Pendelshape and Dad knew that they might not only have to
take on the other assassins. They were probably more worried about…”

“VIGIL.”

“Right. They couldn’t be sure that VIGIL, the Rector and Inchquin, would not find out about their plan, and maybe even spring a trap for them in Sarajevo. So all this stuff,” he waved around at the equipment, “was just in case they ran into difficulties. One thing’s for sure, Pendelshape and Dad were taking a big risk bringing all this stuff back here.”

“Why?”

“Like the Rector said, making any intervention in history may have unforeseen consequences. I would have thought that bringing some of this modern kit back here, even though it is hidden in these ruins, would be a risk. Someone might find them…” Jack’s mind raced ahead, “it could trigger anything… the Austrian army, or, or German army, if they got hold of one of those guns, or one of the bikes… they wouldn’t understand what they were at first, but they might work out a way to copy them or something…”

“Could give them an edge… a military edge.”

“Yeah – these guys are not stupid. If they got hold of all this, then maybe they could win the war. The whole of history would change. We’d be living in a very different future. Did they really think about all these possibilities when they did the computer modelling of how the future might change?”

“I hate to admit it…”

“What?”

“I was wrong, Jack. And your Dad and Pendelshape are wrong. I was taken in by them.”

“Got to say, Angus, I think I agree with you. It all sounds too risky. But not only that…” Jack turned to Angus, shaking his head, “ever since we’ve been on this mad trip, death and destruction have followed us around… it doesn’t feel like we’re supposed to be here. Doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m with you on that.” Angus picked up a pebble from the dirt floor and flicked it at the wall, “And there’s Anna… we can’t betray her, can we?”

Jack got to his feet, dusting himself down. “No Angus, I don’t think we can. In which case, Dad’s not going to be happy with us.”

Angus shrugged, “Just say we felt we didn’t belong here – you know, none of our business.” He reached into his pocket to retrieve the time phone.

“Don’t tell me, still dead, right?”

Angus flipped it open. “Dead – apart the usual stuff.” 

“Still on our own.”

“Apart from Pendelshape.”

“Yeah. If he’s still out there. But we’re doing the right thing coming here with Anna. Pendelshape will want to come to this place… or Sarajevo. He’ll know that’s where Anna will be taking us.”

“Well, I hope he pitches up sooner or later – I want to hear him explain himself – properly this time.”

“Right,” Jack nodded at the two Harleys, “Will those things work?”

Angus looked them over. “Incredible: keys in the ignitions…” He unscrewed the fuel gauge of one of the bikes and peered in. “Full tank of petrol. They look like they’ve never been used.” He grinned at Jack, “What do you reckon?” He continued in a mock southern US accent, “Shall I fire up this Harley – this old ‘Haawg’?”

Soon they had managed to haul both bikes out of the shed. Angus deftly climbed aboard the nearest. “Here goes!”

He turned the ignition and the engine fired immediately. “Bingo!” He revved the engine, “Nice sound, better than my insect two-stroke bike back home.” He revved a couple more times and then cut the engine. He shrugged, “So they work… what next?”

“Let’s go back up and think about it – decide what to do.”

They walked slowly from the shed returning up through the small orchard. The long grass swayed gently in the early evening breeze. At this point the circular outer wall of the monastery was much lower
and you could see over it across the untended fields towards the woodland beyond. Angus paused to take in the view.

“Nice here. Bit like home. Hotter though. Look over there – they’ve even got sheep.”

Jack cocked his head, “Miss them, do you?”

“Ha, ha – I’m in stitches.”

Jack stopped in his tracks, “Hold on, Angus, what did you say?”

Angus looked at Jack blankly.

“Sheep. You mentioned the sheep,” Jack smacked his forehead. “What an idiot I’ve been!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sheep… your sheep farm back home… your home… your family… your dad… your great grandfather… you know on the mantelpiece… Ludwig?”

Angus was staring at Jack as if he was mad, “What are you on about?”

“Ludwig. You said that he met your Great Gran Dot, after he was captured by the Brits in the war. This war coming – the First World War.”

“Yeah. So?”

“We’ve been going on about my dad and Pendelshape on one side wanting to stop the war and the Rector, Inchquin and VIGIL on the other side trying to make sure nothing disturbs the past and worrying about who’s right and stuff. But that doesn’t matter!”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes, it does, of course, but there is something else, much more important – to us… in fact to you, mainly.”

Angus was none the wiser.

“Let me spell it out. No assassination equals no First World War equals Ludwig doesn’t become a German soldier equals he doesn’t get captured by the Brits equals he doesn’t meet Great Gran Dot equals they don’t get married equals they don’t have kids equals you don’t exist equals bye bye Angus.”

Now Angus got it. He had a look of panic on his face. “What will happen to me?”

“No idea. Maybe you’ll go up in a puff of smoke… or be zapped by lightning or, more likely, you just won’t exist.”

“I don’t fancy that much. I mean, I quite like existing…”

“Exactly – mind you it’s tough on the rest of us.”

“So…”

“So that seals it. Unless Dad and Pendelshape know something that we don’t… messing with history will have consequences. And in this case one consequence we know for certain – you won’t exist. I can’t believe we didn’t think of that before.”

Angus tried to assimilate the consequences of what Jack had said. He looked thoughtfully at the scrawny sheep chewing away on the hillside, and then lowered his eyes to the trees that fringed the far side of the fields.

Jack frowned, “What’s up? He followed Angus’s gaze and suddenly his eye caught a glint of metal from within the woods. He narrowed his eyes. There was something there.

“People – there are people in the…” But before he could finish the sentence there was an explosion and a plume of mud erupted from the field just outside the monastery wall.

A moment later there was a second explosion. This time closer. A whole section of the monastery’s outer wall was blown apart. Ahead, Zadok and Anna were pelting towards them, shouting, “Soldiers! The Austrian army’s here!”

A third shell whistled overhead and landed in the refectory building, which promptly collapsed.

“They’ve got artillery. We’ve got to get out of here!” Angus shouted. “Only one option.”

“You mean the bikes.”

Jack’s heart sank as they turned back to get their bikes. He remembered his motorbike experience back at Angus’s farm. It hadn’t gone well. The Harleys were bigger and heavier. And there was another difference – on Angus’s farm they hadn’t been under artillery bombardment.

The field gun in the woods had found its range and its crew was now delivering projectiles into the monastery with impressive regularity. The troops in the wood stayed low – they wanted the occupants of the monastery cowed into submission before moving in.
They were not in a hurry.

Angus had his bike going. Jack copied Angus but felt very precarious perched high above the ground on the saddle. It took all his strength to hold the machine at an angle so one of his feet could touch the ground. With a light push from his left foot he checked neutral and turned the ignition. The Harley roared into life beneath him.

“Let’s go!” Angus yelled.

They powered back up the path through the orchard towards Anna and Zadok. Angus halted his bike expertly next to Anna and scooped her up to ride pillion. Jack realised that he was expected to repeat the procedure with Zadok.

“Angus – I can’t manage a passenger!”

Angus swivelled round, “You must!”

There was another explosion, this time in the bell tower. With a muffled, distorted clanging, rubble and timber crashed down around the old bell. The whole structure swayed, but for the moment the tower and the arched entrance beneath stayed intact.

“Come on then.”

Zadok clambered aboard. The extra weight dampened the suspension and made the bike lower and marginally easier for Jack. He pulled in the clutch lever, kicked down to select first and pulled back the throttle. The engine roared. Angus was already away, heading for the archway, Anna clinging on behind him. Jack let out the clutch lever, but this time far too quickly, and the whole machine jerked forward, the engine immediately stalling. He groaned.

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.