Revenger

32

Donny Bakunin was covered in blood. Carver’s first shot had showered him with another man’s blood and brain matter, and peppered the exposed skin of his hands and face with needle-sharp skull-fragments that stung like an assault by a swarm of bees. None of this had bothered him in the slightest. On the contrary, the more bloody the fight had become, the more he had exulted in it. He was a veteran of civil disobedience, from the Brixton riots of 1981, through all the campaigns against American cruise missiles, Rupert Murdoch’s Wapping print plant, Thatcher’s poll tax, G20 summits, globalization, GM crops and wars in the Middle East. He had charged countless police shield-walls and faced their batons, tear gas and water cannons. But absolutely nothing had excited him like the sheer murderous frenzy that had been unleashed in Netherton Street that night.

His rational mind had been aware that he had been given specific orders to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, and he had obeyed those orders for as long as he could. But then all calm calculation had ended, overwhelmed by the primal berserker battle fever that had infected him as powerfully as everyone else.

Now, though, some of Bakunin’s troops were having second thoughts. Five of them had been killed so far, and of those, four had gone down in the last few minutes, three felled with single shots. Another had been very seriously wounded. For the first time they had encountered resistance from people who were not only armed, but obviously willing to use their weapons to deadly effect. Bakunin wondered who they were. Had the traders managed to hire mercenaries to defend them, or were these a new, armed cadre of the Adams fascist movement whose political wing was meeting at the O2? If so, that had to be taken into account when planning any future riots. The presence of armed opponents could prove troublesome. Then again, any escalation of violence would serve to amplify the destabilizing effect of any acts of subversion, only adding to its political efficacy.

That was a matter for consideration at a later date. For now Bakunin had a more pressing task on his hands. He could sense the energy on the street dissipating fast. He needed to impose his will on the core elements of the riot, the gang-leaders and community activists who could rally their followers, like shepherds herding sheep, leading them on to the next phase of the action. Bakunin wanted to take the Lion Market. Nothing and no one could be allowed to exhibit such defiance without crushing retribution. It was plain that a straightforward charge against armed defenders would not prevail — not, at least, without an unacceptably high level of casualties.

It was not that Bakunin gave a damn about the lives of those who died. The sacrificial deaths of a small number of martyrs to the cause could always be used very effectively to inspire new members, as insurgent groups from the Nazis to the IRA and al-Qaida could testify. A massacre by government forces was also a fine recruiting tool. But a straightforward defeat by another group of citizens was altogether less encouraging. People would not come looting if they thought they were likely to be blown away by shopkeepers. It was therefore too late to worry about squeamish scruples. Circumstances had changed. Now that war had broken out, it had to be won, and a very public, very bloody example had to be made of the occupants of the Lion Market.

Bakunin summoned his lieutenants. They were given their orders and the second phase of the attack began.