Ghost Song (54 page)

The bomb was still spinning across the street when the Archduke's car suddenly shot forward, as if the driver had realized what was happening and was trying to get clear of the bomb before it went off. Instead of landing inside the car, which had obviously been the intention, the bomb skidded across the bonnet and fell into the road immediately behind. There was a split-second when everything froze and Toby was aware that he had thrown both his arms up to cover his head. A fierce explosion tore through the air and scarlet flames shot upwards. Splinters of glass and metal rained down over the crowds and spirals of black smoke billowed up into the sky, tainting the air with an acrid stench. People screamed and clawed at their neighbours in an attempt to get clear of the mess, shouting for their children, wringing their hands and crying. With deep relief, he saw Sonja about thirty yards away; she looked stunned and there were smears of grime on her face, but she was clearly unhurt, and after a moment, she plunged into the screaming tangle of humanity where the bomb had exploded.

About a dozen people were lying on the ground, most of them bleeding and bewildered-looking. There was no sign of Petrovnic or any Tranz people, but as Toby scanned the crowds, he saw a man whom he recognized as one of the students from Zlatna Moruna running away. That's the bomb-thrower, thought Toby, and in the same moment several people started after the student. The boy ran towards the parapet of the bridge, and leapt onto it. For a moment he was outlined against the smoke-smeared sky, then one hand went to his mouth and he threw his head back. Five seconds later he jumped from the bridge into the river.

Toby glanced back at the line of cars and saw to his relief that they were moving away, and the figure of the Archduke had turned to look back. Then he's all right, thought Toby. They've failed. And it doesn't look as if anyone's very much hurt. Oh, thank God.

The man who had jumped into the river was already surrounded by several men who had gone in after him. Toby took them to be police of some kind; they were trying to handcuff the man. Toby saw with a slight shudder of disgust that he was retching and bending over to be sick.

‘He must have swallowed something,' said a voice at his side, and he turned to see Sonja. ‘He meant to kill himself—either by poison or by drowning.'

‘He miscalculated on both counts from the look of it,' said Toby, ‘because the poison's only made him sick and the river's barely two feet deep at that point—he was lucky not to break both his legs.' He took her hand and hooked it firmly under his arm. ‘But it's all right,' he said, ‘they failed. It's all over and they've caught that boy.'

‘What about the injured ones? Can we do anything to help them?' said Sonja, looking towards the bridge.

‘I think they're all being tended,' said Toby. ‘Let's walk along to that park again, shall we? I think we should keep out of the way if at all possible. We could try to buy some ham and rolls or something and have lunch there.'

By dint of pointing to the food on the shelves, they managed to buy not ham, but a kind of liver sausage which the obliging shop owner sliced and put into crisp rolls for them. They ate them sitting on the same seat as yesterday, neither of them saying much, both of them still deeply shocked. Toby saw Sonja shiver, and he at once put his arm round her and drew her against him.

‘It's just that I'm cold,' she said, leaning against him.

‘That's the shock. It'll go off after a while. No, there's no need to move—you aren't heavy and it feels comfortable like this.'

‘It is comfortable like this,' said Sonja in a subdued voice.

The smoke from the Appel Quay seemed to be clearing, and Toby was about to suggest they walk back to the house where they were staying, when they heard shouts from the centre of the town, and cries that were clearly cries of panic.

‘What on earth—?' began Sonja, standing up and looking towards the park gates.

‘Oh God, did we relax too soon?' Toby grabbed her hand and they ran back towards the streets.'

‘Appel Quay again?' said Sonja, as they went.

‘I don't know. No—the Archduke was going to the town hall, wasn't he? If anything's happened to him, that's where he'll be now.'

But they did not need to go as far as the town hall. The Archduke's unmistakable motor car was skewed across the road just off the Appel Quay, in Franz Joseph Street. It was surrounded by people, but Toby and Sonja could see the two figures in the back. Franz-Ferdinand had blood streaming from his mouth; at his side, his wife was slumped forward, blood staining the front of her gown.

Within an hour it was known throughout the city that both the Archduke and his wife were dead. It was also known that the man who had fired the shots that killed them was Gavrilo Princip, and that he, like the bomb-thrower, had swallowed poison which was so old it had done nothing more than make him sick.

Toby managed to talk briefly with a Reuter's man who was French but who had reasonable English to match Toby's smattering of French. He told Toby that as Princip was led away, he had shouted defiance, telling the military that he was dying anyway so they might as well nail him to a cross and burn him alive, and his flaming body would be a torch to light his people on their path to freedom.

‘He has, I believe, the tuberculosis,' said the French journalist, tapping his chest descriptively. ‘A wild and misguided young man, one feels.'

‘We'll have to get out,' said Toby to Sonja afterwards. ‘If we stay here we'll be dragged into this. The minute they know who my father is…' He looked at her. ‘How far will you trust me?'

‘Infinitely. But what are we going to do?'

‘I think,' said Toby slowly, ‘we're going to disappear.'

T
HE SMALL, HASTILY
assembled group of men sat round the table in the Westminster room, and looked towards the man seated at the head.

‘Thank you for attending this meeting,' he said. ‘We'll waste no time, we all know what's happened in Sarajevo, and we all know what the consequence will be for this country and several other countries. But this afternoon we need to address a more personal part of the situation. Hal, you still haven't heard from your son?'

‘No.'

‘He told you he was bound for Paris?'

‘He did, but I was later told it was Sarajevo,' said Hal. ‘I made what enquiries I could, but you know how impossible communications are with that part of the world. The information I was given seemed reliable enough, but I wasn't entirely sure of it. People frequently have personal vendettas, axes to grind.'

‘I'm afraid it seems Toby really did travel to Sarajevo though,' said the chairman. Then, clearly uncomfortable with what he had to say, ‘Hal, I'm afraid I have to tell you—and all of you—that our embassy in Bosnia has telegraphed to tell us that two official police statements have been received, both saying Toby Chance was present at the two incidents on the twenty-eighth: the bomb-throwing near the railway station which missed the Archduke, although it killed and injured a number of people. And then, shortly afterwards, he was part of the shooting, which killed Franz-Ferdinand and his wife.'

There was a brief silence, then Hal said, ‘Yes. I see. Thank you for being so frank. Who made the statements? Or could I hazard a guess as to one of them?'

‘Well…'

‘Anton Reznik—probably styling himself Anton Petrovnic,' said Hal.

‘Yes. The other was a lady calling herself the Baroness Ilena Osapinsky,' said the chairman. ‘We haven't got transcripts of the actual statements, of course, although we'll try to get them. But it seems their content is fairly clear and also very damning. Petrovnic says your son was standing next to the gunman—his name is Gavrilo Princip—and helping him line up the Archduke's car in his sights. He also says Toby was with the other man who threw the bomb. Osapinsky says much the same.'

‘Both statements might be discredited,' said Sir Hal after a moment. ‘Those two are Tranz members—I believe Reznik is its leader. As for Osapinsky, her title and her background are both questionable and I wouldn't trust her from here to that door. While Anton Reznik himself—' He made an impatient gesture with one hand. ‘I spoke a moment ago of personal vendettas. Reznik harbours a deep hatred for me and my family.'

‘Ah?' The chairman looked up from making his own notes. ‘Indeed?'

Hal said in a remote voice, ‘Many years ago he was considerably enamoured of my wife. There was great ill-feeling when she rejected him.'

‘Oh. Yes, I see. I don't think we need to go into old feuds, gentlemen,' said the chairman and there was a mumble of agreement all round the table.

‘But,' said Hal, ‘Anton Reznik will have half a dozen sycophants at his beck and call: people prepared to commit perjury if he tells them it will further Tranz's cause.' He frowned, then said, ‘I should like to say this before anyone else does. I'm very well aware of the possible consequences of all this. If it became known—however mistakenly—that the son of a permanent secretary in His Majesty's Foreign Office was part of the assassination conspiracy, the integrity of this government could be seriously compromised. At the first suggestion of that, I should, of course, resign.'

‘My dear chap, we'll hope it doesn't come to that,' said the chairman rather uncomfortably.

‘Forgive me, but I think it might.'

‘If so, the work you have done over the years would not be disregarded,' said the chairman at last.

‘I'm delighted to hear that,' said Hal politely.

‘It may be that some other position could be arranged for you.'

‘I can't imagine what. This country has been poised on the brink of war for a long time. Despite diplomatic efforts, we all know it can't be much longer before a state of war exists between ourselves and Germany, and we know Franz-Ferdinand's murder will probably be the final trigger. My son appears to have been involved in releasing that trigger. Moreover, he now seems to be at large somewhere in Europe. What this committee needs to decide now is whether we can hope Toby's actions will remain unknown, whether we can keep them quiet.'

‘Providing he isn't found, I think we could be optimistic about that,' ventured one of the men. ‘Is there any kind of hue and cry out for him?'

‘No,' said a thin man who presented a severely legal appearance and had been making copious notes. ‘Our communications with other countries are a touch unreliable in the current situation, but we don't think the Bosnian authorities are especially worried about one minor conspirator getting away.'

The man who had asked about a hue and cry observed that the Bosnians probably had too much on their plates anyway.

‘None of the newspapers mentions Toby's name,' volunteered one of the younger ones.

‘Yes, but that's probably because they're all focussing on the assassination itself and the man who actually fired the shots.'

‘Narodna Odbrana is referred to in most papers,' said the same man, ‘but Tranz doesn't seem to be mentioned anywhere.'

‘I shouldn't expect it to be,' said Hal. ‘Tranz is one of about half a dozen splinter groups of Narodna Odbrana. Not very important in the eyes of the newspapers, and it doesn't sound as if Gavrilo Princip was actually a member of Tranz.'

‘Taking all the facts into account,' said one of the older men slowly, ‘I'm inclined to think we could adopt the good old British masterly policy of inactivity here.'

‘Sit tight, do nothing, and hope for the best?'

‘Yes. No charges have actually been made against Hal's boy, although…'

‘Yes?'

‘I'm sorry to tell you this,' said the man, ‘but two days ago our embassy in Bosnia telegraphed saying the Sarajevo authorities have requested that if Toby surfaces in this country, we hold him on a charge of conspiracy and intent to commit murder. They want us to watch ports and ferries.'

There was a sudden silence.
‘What about Anton Reznik himself?' asked the younger man who had talked about the newspapers. ‘Isn't there also a danger from that quarter?'