Dredd shook his head. "Negative. Rodriguez is one of my team. I'll deal with him. Kessler can take it up with me if he doesn't like it."
The SJS officers hesitated. Each of them knew Dredd by reputation and each of them knew he and Kessler had crossed swords before. Before any of them could object, J'aele handed Dredd a laser rifle. "Take this. It's more accurate than the STUP-gun. You'll be able to knock him out with one shot."
Dredd accepted the weapon with a grim nod.
8. CORPUS DELICTI
Dredd passed through the archway and into the garishly lit interior of Forbidden Knee - The Kneepad Store For Those Who Dare! - crouching low to minimise his silhouette. The Mauley laser rifle was pressed close to his chest, charged and ready to spit searing coherent light with a single trigger-squeeze. The Judge paused, weighing his options and considering the terrain. Forbidden Knee was one of the larger retail units in the Shoplex, with favoured positioning on the thirty-sixth floor. As such, it was crammed with hundreds of display cabinets and racks of high fashion kneepads that dangled down from the ceiling on thick cords. Even on distant Luna-1, the twenty-second century's most popular item of clothing was still a hot seller.
A high-pitched scream cut through the air and Dredd tensed. Stores like this tended to attract juves and he was sure that if Rodriguez had hostages, they'd be young ones. A small flicker of movement caught his eye and Dredd raised the rifle, bringing the vu-sight to bear. J'aele had already configured the weapon to urban fighting mode and Dredd toggled the compact scope from normal vision setting to X-ray. Someone was moving behind one of the larger displays and the gunsight rendered the solid object in a misty, see-through form. The Judge could clearly see the figure now, a woman on her knees, shoulders gently shaking as she sobbed.
Dredd made a mental note of her position and moved deeper into the store. Once in a while, Dredd heard a random series of pulse blasts and saw energy bolts lancing into the ceiling. One lucky shot caught a suspended display rack and sent a dozen Tommy Mutiefinger kneepads tumbling to the floor, to burn there in an expensive little bonfire. Rodriguez was shouting and ranting, but it was difficult for Dredd to get a sense of what he was saying - some of the words were in English, but the majority of his tirade was being conducted in a guttural SouthAm street-speak dialect.
A quiet voice whispered from his helmet speakers. "Dredd, Kontarsky here. I've handed Foster over to the Med-Judges. I am making my way up the service corridor behind the kneepad store."
"Understood." Dredd subvocalised, letting the sensors in his helmet mike enhance and relay his words. "Keep him from using the back way to make an escape. I'll take him out of play."
"Copy." Dredd sensed the weariness in Kontarsky's voice, the self-doubt. She had been in charge here and now Rodriguez's sudden burst of insanity would reflect badly on her judgement.
Dredd shifted the rifle again, part of him considering the number of other Judges that he had seen go off the edge in his career. Officers who used to be good law enforcers like Sleever or Gibson, men that Dredd had personally had to deal with. It was perhaps one of the worst tasks that a Judge could ever be faced with, something that no civilian outside the kinship of the law could ever truly understand. The constant pressure of upholding the legal system, of passing judgement on hundreds of thousands of people throughout the course of a single career, sometimes these things proved too much to handle. Rodriguez, with the lax morals in-bred from years of living in the licentious Pan Andes and his volatile temper, had clearly crossed that line. Dredd shut down the train of thought with a grimace. In these circumstances, doubt could be a killer. Dredd resolved to mention this to Kontarsky later in his field report.
"Stop crying!" Rodriguez bellowed at someone out of Dredd's line of sight, the SouthAm Judge suddenly appearing in a gap between two cash terminals. "I'll kill you if you don't stop your stinkin' noise!"
With the X-ray scope, Dredd could see the shape of a cowering teenager behind the tills and he pulled the rifle's stock firmly into his shoulder as Rodriguez raised his STUP-gun to press it against the weeping juve's head. "You're all in it against me, eh?" the rogue Judge spat. "Every one of you filthy putas trying to get into my head with your chattering!" He pressed his free hand to the side of his helmet, as if he were trying to block out a noise that only he could hear. "Shut up!"
In the instant Rodriguez's index finger tightened on the trigger of the pulse pistol, a handful of outcomes raced through Dredd's mind: he could call out, distract Rodriguez, try to reason with him. With a careful shot, Dredd might be able to hit the SouthAm Judge's hand and sear off his fingers with a laser bolt, disarming him, or he could take the safety shot, the clearest and simplest approach that wouldn't risk the lives of any more citizens.
The rifle sent a pencil-thin streak of hot light down an ionised tunnel of air, making a sound like bones cracking. Dredd's shot melted a penny-cred sized hole in the faceplate of Rodriguez's helmet, cutting instantly through the cartilage in his nose and into the soft interior of his addled brain. The laser bolt made the Judge's skull pop as the superheated steam inside it expanded. All this occurred in less then a thousandth of a second, before Judge Miguel Juan Olivera Montoya Rodriguez collapsed to the floor of Forbidden Knee like a discarded rag doll.
"All units, be advised," Dredd said aloud. "Threat has been neutralised. Repeat, neutralised."
Although Chief Judge Ortiz was hundreds of thousands of kilometres away, broadcasting from the Pan Andes Conurb's Justicia Centrale, the distance did nothing to mute the volume with which he roared at his opposite number on Luna-1. "What kind of rinky-dink operation are you running up there, Tex?" he asked, his face filling the monitor screen in the Judge-Marshal's office. "You come crying to us for assistance and when we send you one of our best men, you kill him!"
Standing at attention next to Dredd, Sov-Judge Kontarsky fought to hold down a sneer. Best men? Rodriguez had been anything but that, a loutish oaf that Ortiz had wanted out of his hair, but given the direction the conversation was taking, she realised it would be impolitic to point out that detail at the moment.
Tex was fighting his corner as hard as the SouthAm Judge. "You're blamin' Luna-1 for this? Perhaps you didn't read that report that we sent you, Ortiz, but I reckon you'll find that it was your man who assaulted fellow Judges and murdered a half-dozen citizens!"
Ortiz seemed not to hear. "What did you do to him, huh? How did you make it happen?"
Judge-Marshal Che spoke up from where he stood. "You're not saying you think that we caused Rodriguez to go insane?"
Ortiz gave Che a filthy look. "Oh, so now you've got something to say?" The rivalry between the Judges of South America's Pan Andes and Mex-City was always a source of friction between SouthAm and Luna-1. "Hundreds of our people live in the lunar barrios of Puerto Luminia and if we can't be sure that Luna-1's Judge force is looking out for Pan Andes interests, things are going to get mui furioso!"
"Speak plainly!" Tex growled. "What in Sam Hill are you gettin' at?"
"This isn't the first time you NorthAm and Eurasian types have put the Pan Andes cities at the bottom of the pile. This is, how do you say, the thin end of the wedge! I'm recommending that the Pan Andes Conurb and Ciudad Barranquilla councils consider full withdrawal from the Triumvirate and diplomatic relations with Luna-1!"
"You've been looking for a way out of the lunar treaty for ages, haven't you, Ortiz?" rumbled Dredd, speaking for the first time. "And now you're going to blow up this incident in order to justify your needs."
"The killer himself speaks at last," snapped Ortiz, masking the moment of hesitation that Dredd's words forced from him. The Mega-City Judge had touched a raw nerve. "You should be happy that I'm not demanding your extradition for trial and execution, Dredd! If Tex has any sense, he should have you suspended!"
"Judge Dredd was following standard-" began Kontarsky, but Ortiz spoke over her.
"If I want to hear the whining of little girls, I'll go find myself a stre
etwalker." He fixed Tex with a gimlet eye as the Sov-Judge fumed. "I want Judge Rodriguez's body on its way home within the hour and I'm ordering our courier ship to prepare for departure. Our business, Señor Tex, is at an end."
"Rodriguez's autopsy isn't complete," said Che. "We must give his corpse a full-"
"Within the hour," Ortiz repeated with force. "Or else I'll send an armed cruiser to recover it. Judge Rodriguez deserves a hero's funeral." Before anyone else could speak, the comm-link cut and the screen flickered into a grey rain of static.
Tex sat heavily in his chair and shook his head. "Y'know, Joe, when I called you up here I expected to have a few deaders lyin' around because of it, but I never reckoned you'd be shootin' your own men."
"You saw the security tapes from the Shoplex. Rodriguez lost it. I had no choice."
Tex glanced at a monitor on his desk, where a loop of the SouthAm Judge's trail of destruction was playing. "Damn it, Dredd. Couldn't you have winged him?"
"Not without losing another innocent life. I made the call, Chief Judge. I take full responsibility for it."
Tex chewed his lip. "It ain't that simple, Joe. I'm responsible for what happens up here, not you." He stabbed a finger at the screen. "This is the last thing I want right now. It's already being broadcast city-wide by those Moon-U hackers."
"I was against this taskforce from the start," said Che. "Perhaps we should consider dissolving it."
Dredd gave him a hard look. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said bluntly. "Chief Judge, my team is making progress with this investigation. I need to follow this through to the end."
The Texan's eyes narrowed. "You're on thin ice, Joe. Luna-1 ain't like Mega-City One. We gotta half-dozen nations cheek-by-jowl here and that means keeping everyone happy - or else what little support we get from Earth is gonna dry up."
"I don't think what happened to Rodriguez was a fluke," Dredd said. Beside him, Kontarsky's brows knitted in surprise. "His breakdown was engineered. Someone did it to throw a spanner in the works."
"How could you possibly be sure of that?" said Che. "The Med-Division's initial examination of Rodriguez showed nothing untoward."
"Call it a hunch," Dredd replied. "And you yourself said that his autopsy was incomplete. We need to examine the corpse in more detail."
"Can't do it," said Tex. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to risk an international incident with Ortiz and his boys just on the basis of your hunch." He nodded towards the door. "Get back on the trail of those guns. I'll try to smooth things over with the Banana City gang."
As Dredd and Kontarsky reached the exit, Tex called out again. "Joe? I know it ain't your style, but can you try to keep the bodies to a minimum from now on?"
Kontarsky studied Dredd for a moment before speaking, as the two of them walked through the corridors of the Luna Grand Hall of Justice. She barely covered her surprise when Dredd had announced he suspected something unusual about Rodriguez's aberrant conduct. Kontarsky had considered the same thing herself, but dismissed the possibility as a wild supposition; her kadet instructors had always drilled into her that facts and facts alone were what made law enforcement work. East-Meg Judges did not believe in "hunches". Yet, the fact that Dredd had also come to a similar conclusion gave her a swell of pride that was very un-Soviet.
"So ask me," Dredd said, without looking at her.
"Why do you think Rodriguez was... influenced?"
"You were there. You tell me."
She chewed her lip. "It... It was more of a feeling than anything else," Kontarsky managed. "Something about him just seemed to be off." She shrugged. "Well, more off than his usual behaviour."
Dredd nodded. "Last night when we saw the hacker attack on the blimp. And again in the M-Haul offices."
Kontarsky gave a small smile. "Didn't you tell me earlier that you wanted facts, not speculation?"
"When you've been on the street as long as I have, you'll learn how to tell the difference."
She accepted this with a nod. "So, has your conclusion caused you to alter your opinion on my theory about an outside influence on the Kepler Dome rioters?"
Dredd gave a small shrug. "I'm keeping an open mind."
"The point is moot, anyway. Without a chance to study Rodriguez's body in close detail, any conclusions we have remain unfounded."
The senior Judge rubbed his chin, thinking. "Can't figure out why Ortiz is so eager to get the body back."
"I'm sure it is to prevent a deeper autopsy. It's not that I believe the Pan Andes Conurb are involved with our investigation, but it is common knowledge in East-Meg Two that SouthAm Judges have illegal bio-modifications banned by the global cyberware treaty..."
"Oh?" Dredd said carefully.
"Strength enhancements, cybernetic brain implants, penile extensions... All of which I'm sure would be discovered on a deep scan by a Med-Tech. Use of stimulant drugs is also prevalent among their law enforcement community."
Dredd nodded. "Ortiz would be hard-pressed to make claims about treaty violations if it was found out his men were doing the same thing," he sneered. "I'm getting sick of all this political garbage."
"It is sometimes necessary-" Kontarsky began, but Dredd cut her off with a growl.
"What's necessary is to solve this case. Anything else is of secondary consideration." The Mega-City Judge fixed her with a hard stare and Kontarsky felt his eyes boring into her. "Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
They reached an intersection, one corridor leading up to the flight bay, the other down into the lower levels where the Tek Labs and medical centre were located. Kontarsky took two steps toward the upper levels before she realised Dredd wasn't walking with her. "Sir?" she repeated. "What are you doing?"
"What is necessary. Come on, let's go talk to J'aele. I've got a job for him."
The Simba City Tek-Judge placed his hands flat on the desktop and shook his head. "Out of the question. Frankly, Judge Dredd, I am shocked that you would even ask me to do such a thing."
"Too difficult for you?" Dredd asked lightly. "I'll understand if it's something beyond your skills."
J'aele's eyes narrowed. "I can do it. I just don't want to."
"Remember when Che said we were an autonomous investigation team? That means we have free rein to pursue this matter wherever it leads."
"Even if that risks an international incident?"
Dredd gave him a level look. "You know as well as any of us that all secured records of Judge Rodriguez will be purged from the system the moment his corpse leaves the city. I'm not asking you to break the law."
"No, but you are asking me to bend it and bend it a lot."
"I could make it a direct order."
"I would refuse."
"Really?" Kontarsky broke in, watching him over the top of the monitor screen in the Tek Lab cubicle. "And then what? You would be relieved and shipped home on the next flight... and I think that the reception you would get there would not be a warm one, da?"
J'aele's expression darkened. "No," he said at length. "It would not. I... was not favoured by the commanders of the Simba Justice Division."
Dredd mentally ticked off another conjecture. As he suspected, J'aele was another problem case, an officer sent to Luna-1 as some kind of punishment for a misdeed back home. But for now that didn't matter. He leaned forward. "You know as well as any one of us that we're on the clock, J'aele. I need to see the autopsy report on Rodriguez."
"Why don't you just ask Judge-Marshal Tex?"
"He has other concerns right now... And I'm not sure we can trust Tex's people," Dredd said quietly. "I'm not going to take the chance."
J'aele crossed his arms. "And what makes you think you can trust me?"
"I'm a good judge of character," retorted Dredd, "and besides, if you're willing to admit it to me or not, you want to bust this case as much as the rest of us, if for no other reason than to show the folks back home how wrong they were about you."
A broad grin crept acros
s the African Judge's ebony features. "You have an eye for people's flaws, I'll give you that. All right, I'll do it." J'aele began to work the keyboard before him, swiftly tapping into the medical centre's data core, descending though layers of stored information. "What do we tell them if the South Americans catch us with our noses in their business? If they detect me, it could be very bad."
"Then don't let them catch you," said Kontarsky.
Dredd watched the holo-screen in front of the Tek-Judge writhe and flex like a live thing, panels popping open and closed as he navigated through dense storehouses of material, circumventing pass codes and security protocols. "You're good at this," he remarked. "You've done it before."
J'aele nodded. "I'm part of the central computer division's tiger team. One of my duties up here is to monitor data defence strength from outside hack-attacks. We regularly simulate data penetration by staging mock raids on our own systems, looking for loopholes." He frowned. "No matter how hard we try, though, those Moon-U perps are still getting in. It's infuriating."
Kontarsky said what Dredd was thinking. "Do you suspect the involvement of an insider?"
J'aele shrugged, still typing at a furious rate. "There are Judges from all over the world stationed here. Odds are that some of them will have viewpoints opposed to the people in power..." His words trailed off as a scroll of text began to march up the screen. "Here. We're in."
"That was fast," noted Dredd.
The Tek-Judge made a casual gesture. "I told you I could do it."
Kontarsky scrutinised the data. "It may have been for nothing. I don't see anything unusual here. It is as Che said, just the basic report."
"Freeze it there," Dredd interrupted. He pointed a gloved finger at a blank section of the virtual document. "There should be a comparative DNA scan listed. It's a standard stage-one post-mortem procedure."
"You're sure?" asked Kontarsky.
The senior Judge nodded. "I've signed off enough death certificates in my time to know the difference. Any Med-Tek examining Rodriguez would have done that, even on a quick check."
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