Revenger

28

Paula Miklosko wasn’t thinking any more. She was barely conscious of fear or pain. Hers were the raw, instinctive, un conscious reactions of a trapped animal, operating on nothing but survival instinct. The snarling, shouting faces around her were as much animal as human, too; as untamed and unfeeling as a pack of wolves.

Through the crowd she could see another two men rushing towards her like more scavengers running to feed on a bloodied corpse. But then they got to the pack and suddenly everything changed. She saw a knife flash and blood spurt from a severed throat, and another one of her attackers double over as a blade sliced into his gut. One of the new arrivals had what looked like a stick in his hand. It didn’t seem like much of a weapon but he was jabbing it at his targets and following up with a blur of kicks and jabbed elbows that left them doubled over in pain — and defenceless against further brutally effective slaps to their lower faces that made their heads twist round on their necks and sent them spinning to the ground.

Most of the men around her took one look at the clinical brutality being meted out and ran for it. But one stood his ground. His face was hidden behind a black balaclava and a pair of goggles with a black metal cylinder that looked like a small torch attached to them. He looked like some kind of futuristic warrior in a suit of black armour plating as he reached round to the small of his back and pulled a gun out of his waistband. He raised his arm, bringing the gun to bear on the two onrushing men. But before his arm had even straightened in front of him the knife was flashing through the air and burying itself up to its hilt in his throat. He dropped the gun and fell to the ground, dead by the time he hit the pavement.

One of the newcomers came up and took Paula in his arms. ‘You OK?’ he asked, looking into her eyes as though they might give him the answer he needed.

Paula mumbled some kind of incoherent reply. The man who was holding her said, ‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ and it was the tone of his voice more than the words themselves that calmed her a little.

The other man, the taller and burlier of the two, was standing over the corpse. He picked up the gun that was lying nearby. He took the magazine out, checked it, replaced it and racked the slide. Then he said, ‘Piece of Chinese shit, but it might just come in handy.’

Carver heard Schultz’s voice, but in the deafening cacophony of the riot could not make out what he’d just said. He turned his head in Schultz’s direction and was about to ask, ‘What?’ when something caught his eye: something black on the side of the dead man’s head. He pointed at it and shouted, ‘What’s that?’

Schultz bent down again to take a look. ‘Video cam!’

‘Take it!’

Schultz got down on his haunches to detach the camera from the goggles. At close range he could see there was a cheap gold-plate chain round the man’s neck, just below where the knife had hit. In the middle of the chain, underneath the knife itself, was a name: Random.

‘Well, you got that right,’ Schultz said to himself.

He removed the camera and held it up so Carver could see it. ‘You want this?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’

Schultz threw the camera over to Carver, who caught it one-handed and stuffed it in a jacket pocket.

‘Now what?’ Schultz asked, stepping back to Carver and the woman, who was still visibly shaking with fear and shock.

‘We’ve got to get out of here before anyone decides to get their own back on us,’ Carver replied. He paused as a thought struck him: ‘Shit!’

‘What’s the matter?’ Schultz asked.

‘We could leave right now, just crawl under the truck and vanish… But Chrystal’s back up the road and we’re not going without her.’

‘Too bloody right we’re not… Look, she’s my bird, so I’ll go get her. You take this one, get the fuck out now and I’ll catch up with you.’

Carver shook his head. ‘No, I’m not leaving you in the middle of this. Get Chrystal. Bring her back. I’ll wait.’

Schultz didn’t argue. He sprinted back down the road. Carver looked past Schultz towards the undiminished mayhem and confusion of the riot. He heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted Chrystal. She’d done as she was told and stayed put, just moving a few metres to make herself as inconspicuous as possible in the shadow of a building. He saw her wave as she realized Schultz was coming back to her, excitedly letting him know where she was.

Carver turned back to the woman they’d rescued. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said to her. ‘We’ll have you out of here in no time.’

He was about to ask her name when he saw it would be pointless. She was glassy eyed and entirely non-responsive. Through the open door of her car he could see her handbag, sitting on the passenger seat. He pulled it out. There was a wallet inside and a driving licence in the name of Paula Miklosko.

‘There you go, Paula,’ Carver said, though in her present state it made no more sense than talking to a cat. Her body was as slack and lifeless as a puppet with no strings. Carver passed the bag over her limp hand and up her arm so that it was hanging from her shoulder. He looked for Schultz and Chrystal. They were walking back down the road. Schultz had his arm round Chrystal’s shoulder. She was gazing up at him. They were both concentrating on each other.

They had no idea of the crowd bearing down on them from behind. The mob was no more than thirty metres away from Schultz and Chrystal, and those at the front of it were just breaking into a run.