Madame Illic’s boarding house was located in one of the less salubrious areas of Sarajevo but the room she showed them into was clean and adequately, if sparsely, furnished. All the other rooms were taken but she made no objection to Tom sharing with Ralph. The prospect of sleeping with him in the one big double bed sent a shiver through Tom’s nerves but Ralph seemed happy to accept it.
‘It fits in with the picture we want to present, of two impoverished students hiking round Europe,’ he pointed out.
They had dressed accordingly, though Tom had been forced to allow a good pair of trousers to be rubbed in the dirt and a shirt collar deliberately frayed. The rest of their essential requirements had been stuffed into two well-worn rucksacks that Ralph had acquired by some means.
Ralph threw his onto the bed. ‘Right. Let’s go and have a wander round and get our bearings.’
As they descended the stairs they heard voices in the hallway below and Ralph gripped Tom’s arm and pulled him to a standstill. Two men crossed the hall and went out of the front door, one tallish and around thirty years old, Tom guessed, the other a thin, dark-haired youth.
‘That’s them,’ Ralph whispered when they had gone out. ‘The tall one is Illic and the other is Princip, the wild-eyed fanatic I told you about. Let’s follow and see where they go.’
The two men led them to a café a few streets away. It was evening and the streets were busy with people going home from work or strolling out to enjoy the coolness after a hot summer day. It was not difficult to keep their quarry in sight without making it obvious that they were being followed. The restaurants and cafés were filling up but they found a table in a corner where they could see Illic and Princip, who had been joined by a third man in working clothes with a narrow, dark face. The three leaned close together, talking earnestly, but Tom and Ralph were too far away to hear what was being said. After about an hour, they left and made their way back to the boarding house. Once inside, the three disappeared into Madame Illic’s private sitting room, leaving Tom and Ralph as the only occupants of the small, dark lounge that was available for guests. It was not long, however, before the door bell rang and Tom saw, through the half-open lounge door, two more men being admitted by Illic and taken through to the private room.
Ralph got to his feet. ‘That’s two more of them – Grabez and Cabrinovic. I’ve seen them all hanging around Tankovic and the other Black Handers in Belgrade. I’m right, Tom! Something is about to happen. If only we could hear what’s going on in that room!’
Before Tom could protest he slipped out into the hall and crept towards the door of the private room. After a moment, he beckoned urgently and Tom joined him.
‘Listen!’ Ralph whispered.
Tom strained his ears. At first all he could hear was a mumble of voices, then the sound of a heavy piece of furniture being moved, followed by an excited babble, quickly suppressed. Then, quite distinctly, he heard Illic say, ‘Here, Gavrilo, you take this one. Careful! It’s loaded!’
Ralph met his eyes and jerked his head back towards the lounge. Once there, he whispered, ‘He’s distributing guns! Now we’ve got something definite to go on.’
‘So far we’ve only got what we think we have heard through a closed door,’ Tom pointed out. ‘It’s their word against ours.’
‘True,’ Ralph agreed. ‘We need to catch one of them actually in possession of a weapon. The only solution I can think of is if we can get one of them on his own, take him by surprise and search him. Then we could drag him in front of the authorities and get them to arrest the others.’
‘That’s crazy, Ralph!’ Tom objected. ‘How are we going to overpower a man armed with a gun?’
‘He’s not the only one with a weapon,’ Ralph replied, patting his pocket. ‘You don’t really think I left my own pistol behind, do you?’
At that moment they heard the door of the private room open and footsteps crossed the hall. There was a confusion of voices – ‘Goodnight’; ‘Take care’; ‘Till tomorrow’. The Illic’s voice: ‘You all know your stations. Make sure you are there in good time. Courage, boys! Not long now.’
The front door slammed and they heard Illic and Princip return to the private room.
‘Quick!’ Ralph said. ‘After them!’
Before Tom could object he was heading for the front door. Outside it was now dark, except for the glow of infrequent street lights, but they were in time to see the three conspirators turning the corner at the end of the street.
‘What are you going to do?’ Tom asked, as they followed.
‘I don’t know yet,’ was the terse reply.
They followed the three down the street until they turned abruptly and disappeared from view. When they reached the place, Tom saw that they had gone down a narrow alley where the houses on either side blocked out all but the faintest gleam of starlight.
‘Ralph, this is stupid!’ he said, as his friend plunged into the alley after them, but Ralph took no notice. The three men, who were all wearing dark clothes, had almost vanished but Tom could hear their footsteps moving away. Then they seemed to come to a halt and he perceived a blacker darkness ahead and realised suddenly that the alley ended in a blank wall. Ralph saw it at the same instant and came to a halt, but it was too late. There was movement behind them and a torch was turned on, focussing first on Tom and then on Ralph.
Illic’s voice spoke from the shadow behind the light. ‘You fool! Did you imagine that I would not recognise you because you have grown a beard?’
Tom looked at Ralph and had a ridiculous impulse to say, ‘There, you see? What did I tell you?’ But the words were immediately suppressed by the sight of a gun barrel glinting in the torchlight. Princip was standing beside Illic, his weapon trained on Ralph. Tom felt the others move closer behind him and cold metal prodded his ribs.
Ralph was saying, in English, ‘I don’t understand. I’m a student from England. What is this all about?’
Illic either did not understand or chose to ignore the remark. ‘Search them!’
Hands quested through Tom’s pockets and patted his body. A similar search soon produced Ralph’s pistol. ‘British army issue!’ Illic said. ‘As I expected. Move!’
The gun in Tom’s ribs gave a sharp jab and he moved forwards. Together they headed back towards Illic’s house, the men they had been following clustering close around them to conceal the weapons pressed into their backs. In the house, Illic opened a door that revealed a steep flight of steps leading down to what Tom assumed was a cellar. There was no light, and he almost missed his footing at the bottom and stumbled into Ralph, earning a muttered curse from one of his captors. He could hear Illic groping around and then the sound of a match being struck and a single candle guttered into life.
‘Sit!’ Illic barked, and Tom was pushed down onto what felt like a barrel, with Ralph close by. Illic lifted the candle and stood over them.
‘Do you think I haven’t noticed you hanging around Tankovic in Belgrade?’ he asked Ralph. ‘I didn’t realise you were a spy until I saw you this afternoon in the café. What did you think you were going to do?’
Ralph shook his head, still pretending incomprehension. ‘Look here, I don’t know what all this is about, but we are British citizens. You won’t get away with kidnapping us.’As his answer Illic struck him hard across the mouth with the butt of his gun. ‘Stop this! I know you understand Serbian, and speak it. You masquerade as a British officer, but you are a spy. Who are you working for? Tell me, what are you doing here? Who sent you?’
‘No one,’ Ralph answered in Serbian. ‘I knew you were up to something and I wanted to find out what it was.’
‘What are we wasting time for?’ Princip said, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. ‘Shoot them and have done with it.’
‘Not yet,’ Illic answered. ‘I don’t believe they are acting alone. We need to find out who else knows about us.’ He turned on Tom. ‘You! Who are you? Where do you fit in?’
Tom had had time to think and had spent it desperately trying to concoct a story that might at least buy them a little time. ‘You have got it wrong,’ he said. ‘He’s not the spy. I am. My masters in London have heard rumours about the Black Hand and its intentions. They sent me here with a message for you. Britain and Serbia are allies, but if you are responsible for an act that plunges us into a war we will withdraw our support. Serbia will be left to fight alone. Is that what you want?’
For a second he thought he saw Illic’s eyes flicker and he felt the other men stir uneasily in the darkness. The Illic said, ‘Why should we care? We have other allies. We defeated the Turks, and the Bulgarians. We can defeat Austria.’
‘And suppose Britain were to throw her support behind the Austrians?’ Tom said. He knew it was an impossible scenario but he had seen that faint shadow of doubt in Illic’s eyes. ‘My government might be prepared to turn a blind eye to regicide and remain neutral as long as its own citizens are not involved. But my masters know where I am and who I am investigating. If we were to be harmed they might take a very different view.’
‘He’s bluffing!’ Princip insisted. ‘Shoot them. None of this will matter tomorrow.’
‘Not to us, perhaps,’ Illic said. ‘But we are not acting for our own benefit. As you say, after tomorrow it will not matter who they tell. We are not butchers. Why should we stain our sacred cause with their blood? They can do us no harm locked in here. Come, we should get some sleep.’
He turned and made his way to the stairs and after a moment’s hesitation the others followed. At the top of the steps Illic turned back. ‘Goodnight, gentlemen. Sleep well. We shall not meet again.’
The five men went out and Tom heard the door slammed shut and the sound of bolts being shot home. In the faint light of the candle he stood up and turned to Ralph.
‘By God, Ralph, you’ve got me into some pretty messes before this, but this is the last time, I swear it!’
Ralph came closer and gripped his arm. ‘All I can say is, thank God I brought you with me. That was a brilliant piece of play-acting. I didn’t know you had it in you.’
Tom lowered himself back onto the barrel. ‘Nor did I,’ he said, shakily.
Ralph took the candle and climbed the steps and Tom heard him testing the door, shaking it and putting his weight against it. ‘It’s no good,’ he said at length. ‘It’s rock solid. We’ll never break that down.’
He came down again and began to feel his way around the cellar, running his hands over the walls. Eventually he returned to sit by Tom. ‘That’s the only way out. We’re stuck here till someone lets us out.’
‘What do you think Illic meant when he said we should not meet again?’ Tom asked, feeling a shiver run down his spine.
‘And all that about it not mattering after tomorrow,’ Ralph said, nodding. ‘I’m afraid there’s only one interpretation. They plan to assassinate the archduke and then commit suicide.’
‘All of them?’
‘It seems like it. They have a hero to imitate. Four years ago a man called Zerajic tried to assassinate the Governor of Bosnia. He missed and then put a bullet into his own brain. Boys like Princip see him as a martyr. Besides, Tankovic wouldn’t want anyone left alive to implicate him. He’s probably provided them with the means for a quick death.’
‘You do realise what that could mean for us?’ Tom said. ‘They are the only people who know we are here. If they are all dead …’
‘Cheer up.’ Ralph patted his arm. ‘Once we’re sure they are out of the way we can kick up such a row that his mother is bound to hear us. There’s no point until then. It might prompt Princip to come back and carry out his threats. I suggest we make ourselves as comfortable as we can and try to get some sleep.’
After grovelling around on the dusty floor for a while, Ralph came upon some old sacks that smelt powerfully of stale beer and they lay down on them side by side. Ralph curled himself against Tom’s back and put his arm across him.
‘Might as well keep each other as warm as we can,’ he said.
There was little sleep for either of them. Before long the candle burnt out, leaving them in pitch darkness. The floor was hard and cold in spite of the sacking and now they were silent they could hear rustlings and scufflings all around them. Once Tom felt something run across his legs.
The hours passed slowly but eventually Tom surfaced from a deeper doze and saw that the cellar was no longer completely dark. Away at the far end there was a faint gleam of light that seemed to be coming from the roof. Ralph was asleep, snoring faintly, so Tom got up carefully and groped his way towards the light. Looking up, he saw that it was coming through a small crack and that what he had taken for a solid ceiling was, at that point, made up of boards. At that moment he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps above his head and then what sounded like wheels.
He returned to where Ralph was lying and shook him awake. ‘Listen, I think I may have found a way out.’
Ralph sat up immediately. ‘Where? How?’
‘Over here.’ Tom led him to the point where the light was filtering in. ‘You know what I think? This was once a beer cellar. It certainly smells like one and there are barrels here. Think of pubs at home. How does the beer get delivered?’
‘Oh, I’m with you!’ Ralph exclaimed. ‘There’s a trap door in the pavement outside and when the brewer’s dray arrives they just open the trap and roll the barrels down into the cellar. So that trap door leads straight out onto the street.’
‘If I’m right,’ Tom agreed.
‘I’m certain you are! What time is it?’
‘Just after six am.’
‘So not too many people about yet, with any luck. Do you think we can force that trap open?’
‘I don’t know till we try. First of all we have to find a way of reaching it.’
A further search of the cellar in the faint light revealed several empty barrels but even standing on one neither of them could reach the trapdoor. They piled one on another and Tom made a stirrup out of his hands so that Ralph could climb onto them. That was far from ideal because now he was too high up and had to work in a semi-crouching position, but at least he was able to find the two bolts that held the door.
‘They’re rusted solid,’ he reported. ‘It’s going to be the devil’s own job getting them free.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Tom said. He groped around until he found the remains of the candle sitting in a puddle of congealed wax. ‘Try working some of this into them.’
It took the two of them, working in turn, over an hour to free the bolts but eventually Ralph was able to report, ‘Right, I can move them now. But when I pull them out the trap will drop down and it will be open to the street.’
‘Just pray no one is about to walk across,’ Tom said. ‘Otherwise they might be joining us down here, with a broken leg.’
‘Pray Princip or one of the others isn’t standing guard with his gun ready,’ Ralph retorted. ‘When I open the trap, we need to be out as fast as we can. I’ll climb out and then pull you up. Can you manage that?’
‘I’ll have to,’ Tom said.
‘Ready, steady, go!’ Ralph said, and pulled out both bolts. The trap door dropped open with a creak of hinges, showering Tom with dust, and Ralph grabbed the edges of the opening and hauled himself up. His efforts dislodged the top barrel and Tom had to jump aside to avoid it. He heard a small scream and a woman’s voice raised in remonstration and Ralph’s apology in mangled Serbian. Then Ralph leaned into the hole and stretched out his arm.
‘Come on, quick!’
Tom climbed onto the barrel that remained in place, grabbed Ralph’s hand and jumped. His free hand reached the wooden frame round the opening, and he felt splinters pierce the flesh. He hung for a moment, kicking his legs, then Ralph hauled him up till he lay like a stranded fish across the edge of the trapdoor. He scrambled to his feet and looked round. There were few people about, and he remembered that it was Sunday. Two women, on their way, he guessed, to early mass, looked curiously in their direction but no one seemed inclined to question them.
Ralph was peering into the cellar. ‘I don’t see how we can fasten the trapdoor back in place, so anyone from the house would see at once that we had escaped. The best thing we can do is get away as quickly as we can and try to blend in with the crowd.’
‘Once we’re on the train for Belgrade we should be safe enough, shouldn’t we?’ Tom asked.
‘Train? We can’t just get on the train. For God’s sake, Tom! There’s an assassination about to take place, unless we can find a way to stop it.’
Tom choked back a protest. ‘All right. What do you suggest we do?’
‘Inform the authorities. We must have enough proof now to convince them to take action.’
As they headed for the centre of the city the streets grew more crowded. People were heading for the Appel Quay, the road along which the Archduke’s motorcade would pass. Ralph stopped one man and asked what time it was expected.
‘Soon after 10 o’clock, if he keeps to the schedule,’ was the reply.
Ralph looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly nine. There’s still time. Either the whole procession must be abandoned, or at least he must go by a different route.’
They had to ask the way to the Town Hall, where the reception was due to take place, and when they reached it they found all access to the building barred by the police.
‘Listen to me!’ Ralph said to the man barring their way. ‘I am the British Military Attaché in Belgrade. I have urgent information regarding the Archduke’s visit. I must speak to the mayor at once.’
The policeman looked him up and down and Tom was suddenly aware of the picture they must present, dirty and unshaven, their deliberately shabby clothes further rumpled and torn by their efforts in the cellar.
‘Do you have any identification, sir?’ he asked.
Ralph put his hand to his pocket and swore. He had intentionally left behind anything that might identify him as a British soldier. ‘No, I don’t, because I have been kidnapped and locked up in a cellar. All my papers were stolen. There is going to be an attempt on the Archduke’s life. I must speak to someone in authority.’
The policeman hesitated, then called to a colleague and the two conferred in undertones. From the glances cast in their direction Tom inferred that they were being cast as madmen or troublemakers, but after a moment the second man went off into the building and the first returned to them.
‘I’ve sent a message to the captain. You’ll have to wait here until he’s free to talk to you.’
‘But don’t you understand?’ Ralph expostulated. ‘It’s a matter of the utmost urgency.’
‘So you say,’ the policeman said stolidly. ‘But I’ve done everything I can do. It’s against orders for me to let anyone into the building.’
Minutes passed and Ralph paced backwards and forwards, clenching and unclenching his fists. Tom kept watch on the crowd behind them, fearing at any moment to see Illic or one of his cronies. If their escape had been discovered he had no doubt that the conspirators would be looking for them, and this time they would not hesitate to shoot.
After a long wait, a man in the uniform of a police captain came down the steps and Ralph repeated his story.
‘Kidnapped, you say?’ the captain queried. ‘Have you reported this?’
‘No! There isn’t time. The men who kidnapped us are planning to assassinate the archduke. You must get a message to him. He must stay away from Sarajevo.’
The captain frowned at him for a moment and then said, ‘You had better come with me.’
‘At last!’ Ralph exclaimed.
His relief was short-lived. They were conducted to a small office and told to wait while the captain went in search of his superior officer. More time passed. Eventually two men arrived, one a colonel in the police and the other, in civilian clothes, who introduced himself as the mayor’s secretary. Ralph embarked on his story again.
‘One moment,’ the colonel interrupted, looking at Tom. ‘Who is this?’
Tom gave his name and explained that he was a friend of Ralph’s from England, simply here on a visit. The colonel appeared to regard this with some suspicion and Tom could understand why. Ralph outlined the reasoning that had brought him to Sarajevo and described the events of the previous evening, adding the names and descriptions of the five conspirators. There followed a lengthy and ponderous inquisition and it became obvious that the colonel viewed everything they said with extreme scepticism. Tom saw that Ralph was struggling to remain calm but as the minutes ticked by he grew more and more frustrated. Finally, he jumped to his feet and thumped the desk where the colonel was sitting.
‘Do you not understand? There are men out there determined to murder the heir to the Austrian Empire, on the streets of your city. It could start a war. Do you want that on your conscience?’
The colonel looked at his watch. ‘The archduke will already be on his way. It is too late to stop him now. I assure you, all precautions have been taken for his safety but I will go and give orders for everyone to be on the alert.’ He rose. ‘I will send someone to take down your statement regarding the kidnapping. Wait here, please.’
‘Wait!’ Ralph stormed. ‘Wait! Is that all you can say?’
But the colonel and the secretary had already left the room.
Ralph turned to Tom. ‘Come on. There’s no point in hanging about here.’
‘Will they let us leave?’ Tom asked.
‘We’ll soon find out,’ Ralph replied.
The corridor outside was empty, although they could hear voices and footsteps from above, moving towards the front of the building.
‘This way,’ Ralph said, heading in the opposite direction.
A few minutes later they emerged, unchallenged, from a service entrance at the rear. As they turned towards the main street Tom felt the ground under his feet shudder and heard the noise of an explosion from somewhere not far distant. Ralph stopped dead.
‘What was that?’
‘A bomb,’ Tom replied. He had heard enough on the battlefields of Kosovo to be in no doubt. ‘I’m afraid we’re too late.’
‘The bastards!’ Ralph ground out. ‘That stupid, bloody colonel! They could have avoided this if only they had listened.’
‘You did your best,’ Tom said. ‘There’s nothing more we can do now.’
In the main street there was chaos. Some of the crowd, impelled by curiosity, were trying to hurry in the direction of the explosion, others, terrified, were attempting to run the opposite way. On the steps of the Town Hall, where the official reception party were waiting, there was much agitated waving of arms and running to and fro. Then, into this confusion, came the sound of engines and three motor cars appeared, driven at speed. In the first there were uniformed policemen, while the second contained high-ranking officers, to judge by the amount of medals and gold braid. The third car was a Graf and Stift cabriolet, its top folded back to reveal the moustachioed figure of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, with his wife at his side.
‘They missed!’ Ralph exclaimed. ‘The incompetent idiots missed! Thank God!’
‘Who are the other two with them?’ Tom asked.
‘The fat one is Potiorek, the Governor of Bosnia. I assume the other is an aide-de camp.’
The three cars screeched to a halt at the foot of the steps and the Archduke got out, to be met by the mayor. Tom was too far away to hear what was said, but it was obvious from the Archduke’s demeanour that he was extremely angry – with reason, Tom reflected. The royal party and their entourage were conducted quickly into the Town Hall and the crowd on the pavement began to disperse.
‘What now?’ Tom asked.
‘The Archduke is entertained to lunch, there are the usual speeches and then he’s due to open the state museum, but if they’ve got any sense they’ll get him out of the city by the shortest route,’ Ralph responded.
‘I meant, what next for us,’ Tom said. ‘But do you mean there could be another attempt?’
‘There are at least five men involved in the conspiracy, to our knowledge,’ Ralph pointed out. ‘I presume the entire Sarajevo police force is looking for them now, but if I was in charge I certainly wouldn’t take any chances.’
‘Well, I don’t see that there is anything more we can do,’ Tom said. ‘Let’s get back to Belgrade.’
‘The next train doesn’t leave until this evening,’ Ralph pointed out. ‘There’s no point in sitting in the station for hours. Let’s go and see what happened.’
They made their way through the crowd until they came to the road running beside the Miljacka River. Here there was a dense knot of people, but between their shoulders Tom saw a large crater in the road and beyond it another official car, its doors open, windscreen smashed and bonnet a twisted mass of blackened metal. On the far side of the road, by the river bank, three police men held a bedraggled figure who was writhing in their grasp as if in agony.
‘It’s Cabrinovic!’ Ralph murmured in Tom’s ear.
‘What happened?’ Tom asked a men standing near him. ‘Did you see?’
‘That fellow threw a bomb at the Archduke’s car,’ was the reply. ‘It bounced off the hood and landed in the road behind.’
‘What has happened to him?’ Tom inquired, indicating the assassin. ‘Why is he all wet?’
His informant gave a harsh guffaw. ‘The fool swallowed something and jumped into the river. He obviously isn’t a local or he’d have known it’s only a few inches deep at that point. Some men dragged him out and gave him a good kicking before the police got to him.’
As they spoke a police motor cyclist forced his way through the crowd and circled the hole in the road to reach the damaged car. He dismounted and leaned into it, obviously searching for something, and finally straightened up with a sheaf of papers in his hand. As he passed Tom, heading back towards the Town Hall, Tom saw that they were wet with blood.
‘Clearly someone didn’t escape unharmed,’ he said. ‘What do you think those papers were? Documents of state?’
‘More likely the Archduke’s notes for his speech,’ Ralph replied with a humourless laugh.
They watched Cabrinovic being taken away and then Ralph yawned suddenly. ‘Do you know, I am ravenous! We haven’t eaten since last night. Let’s find some food.’
‘I don’t think we are in a fit state to go into a restaurant,’ Tom said, indicating their filthy clothes.
‘True,’ Ralph agreed. ‘Let’s see if we can find somewhere we can buy a sandwich.’
They walked a little further along the river, until they came to the Latin Bridge. Ralph pointed across the road. ‘Look, there’s a place – Schiller’s delicatessen. We should be able to get something there.’
They bought sandwiches and sat at a small table in a corner to eat them. Tom felt himself grow drowsy after his broken night, but he could not relax. The image of Cabrinovic twisting and vomiting in his captor’s grip alternated in his mind with the thought that Illic and the rest were still at large and might be looking for the men who had betrayed them. ‘What do you think Cabrinovic swallowed?’ he asked Ralph.
His friend shrugged. ‘I’m not a medical man. I should have thought cyanide was the obvious thing, but that is supposed to work much faster – unless there was something wrong with it. I wouldn’t put it past Tankovic to have supplied them with pills that had been kept so long they had lost their efficacy.’
‘He looked so young,’ Tom said. ‘Just a boy, really.’
‘They all are,’ Ralph agreed, ‘except for Illic. No wonder the whole plan has gone off at half cock, when you give bombs and guns to a lot of teenagers with hardly any training.’
‘Look, can we get away from here and find somewhere quiet?’ Tom said. ‘My head is bursting.’
Ralph paid the bill and they were just getting up to leave when he grabbed Tom’s arm. ‘Keep your head down! Princip has just come in.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Over at the counter, buying a sandwich.’
‘Is anyone else with him?’
‘No, he seems to be alone. This is our chance, Tom. We’ll wait till he leaves the shop and then grab him. His testimony will be enough to put Tankovic and all the rest of the Black Hand in the dock.’
Tom had his back to the rest of the shop and Ralph picked up a newspaper and held it in front of his face, glancing over the top of it every few seconds. After a moment he said, ‘He’s going. Come on.’
They rose and followed the slight figure out of the shop. He paused at the kerb, biting into his sandwich, and at that moment the official cars reappeared, heading out of the city. The two leading vehicles crossed the bridge, the Graf and Stift following, with the archduke, his wife and the governor; the aide de camp now standing protectively on the left hand running board.
‘My God, that was close!’ Ralph said, adding abruptly, ‘Now what? What the devil … ?’
The Graf and Stift was reversing, bringing it back to a point immediately opposite the delicatessen. Paralysed, as in a nightmare, Tom saw Princip drop his sandwich and reach into his pocket. Drawing his pistol he stepped forward, close to the right-hand side of the car and fired once. The archduke jerked backwards, blood spurting from his neck. Ralph was already plunging towards the assassin and as Princip raised the weapon again, aiming at the governor, he attempted to knock the gun out of his hand. The weapon went off and Sophie, the duchess, collapsed against her husband. Several passers-by leapt on Princip and wrestled him to the ground, but not before he had crammed something into his mouth. Meanwhile, the car accelerated away, heading back into the city.
Ralph had sunk to his knees with his head in his hands. Tom grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.
‘What have I done?’ he cried. ‘I meant to knock his arm up. Are they both dead?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tom said. ‘Perhaps not. They were both still upright. Maybe the wounds were not fatal.’
Princip was being dragged away, writhing and vomiting in the same manner as Cabrinovic. Tom looked at Ralph. He was deadly pale and shaking. ‘Come on. We’re going to the station. If we can’t get on a train to Belgrade we’ll catch the first one that comes along. The sooner we get out of this place the better.’