by David Bishop
"That is nothing!" Belgrano shouted. "You have no right to-"
Dredd tore away the lining to reveal dozens of cigarettes sewn into the case. "Tobacco smuggling as well, are we? Quite the entrepreneur, aren't you?"
"Those are for personal use," Belgrano said belligerently.
"There's no smoking in the Big Meg - except in authorised Smokatoria - and the importation of tobacco is strictly forbidden," Giant replied sternly. He plucked open a canister labelled aftershave and a drizzle of brown granules tumbled out. "I suppose you'll be telling this is gravy powder next?"
The new arrival just shrugged, smiling weakly.
Dredd picked up one of the granules and slipped it on to his tongue. "Coffee." He spat the granule back out. "Columbian roast." Dredd rounded on Belgrano, jabbing a finger in the drunken man's face. "We've got enough contraband here to put you in the iso-cubes for twenty years, creep. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't lock you up and throw away the key!"
"Diplomatic immunity," Belgrano replied, his breath heavy with the odour of synthi-vodka. "Chief Judge Hershey promised all the delegates full diplomatic immunity while inside your city. I figured it was worth trying to bring in a little something extra for the trip. You can't arrest me for anything."
"Maybe. But all these illegal substances will be confiscated and destroyed. And if I catch you breaking the Law in my city, you can be certain I'll break you too, diplomatic immunity or not!" Dredd turned to Giant. "Get this scum out of my sight!"
Belgrano gave a friendly wave as he staggered out of the interview room, accompanied by Giant. Dredd removed his respirator and activated his helmet radio.
"Dredd to Control, request an urgent meeting with Hershey."
The radio crackled back with a reply. "The Chief Judge is busy meeting and greeting the foreign delegates at their private quarters. Her staff say she won't be free for at least an hour."
"Fine. Tell her staff I'll see her in sixty minutes. Dredd out!" He switched off the radio, not even waiting for an acknowledgement. Giant returned to the interview room, shaking his head with exasperation.
"I got the king of the smugglers into an H-wagon. How long are we supposed to be baby-sitting these trouble makers?"
"Until they leave. Forty-eight hours, if the talks go well tomorrow," Dredd replied, impatience evident in his voice.
"And if they don't?"
"That's Hershey's problem. Ours is keeping these punks under control."
TWO
Ryan awoke to find Bludd standing over him. The crime boss was smiling broadly. "Congratulations! Kara tells me you passed the test. I believe you're ready to take part in a vital mission on behalf of the Bludd Group. Get dressed and join the others in the briefing room."
The juve smiled his agreement. Once Bludd had left the bedchamber, Ryan hastily pulled on his discarded clothes before bustling into the main area of the penthouse. The door to another room stood ajar nearby, Kara just inside it. Ryan hurried to the entrance and knocked on the door. "Is this the briefing room?"
Kara nodded and motioned for him to enter. Once inside he glanced about the room. It was dark, just the green light from a three-dimensional holographic projector providing any illumination. Six hard-backed chairs were positioned around the projector, all but one occupied. Kara pointed at the newcomer while addressing those already gathered.
"Everyone, this is Blake Ryan, our newest recruit. He was expelled from the Academy of Law and will help us anticipate the judicial response to tomorrow's operation. Ryan, these are the other members of the Bludd Group's elite strike force." Kara began walking in a slow circle around the chairs, pausing behind each one to introduce the person sat there. First was a slab-faced woman riven with tattoos, every visible area of her skin adorned with a pattern or motif.
"This is Tattoo Sue, our muscle. She was thrown off the Mega-Olympics men's wrestling team for steroid abuse."
"The men's team?" Ryan asked despite himself.
Tattoo Sue grinned and made a gesture with her fingers like scissors cutting. "I've always been a woman trapped in a man's body. After the scandal I had nothing to lose, so I had the chop."
Ryan smiled back at her weakly. "Really? How... interesting."
Kara had moved on to the next team member, a male dwarf with flaming red hair. "This is Angry Sanderson. He can break into and out of anywhere, thanks to his nimble fingers and tiny body."
"Nice to meet you," Ryan offered by way of a greeting. Sanderson replied with a scowl and an obscene finger gesture. Kara patted the shoulder of the next person, a gangling black man with oversized hands.
"Skyhook is our driver and pilot, perfect for any getaway. His biggest problem is finding a vehicle with enough leg room."
"Ain't that the truth!" Skyhook said, vigorously nodding his agreement. "Just 'cause I'm tall, don't mean I ain't got feelings!"
"Quite." Kara pointed at the fourth person in the circle, a beautiful woman missing half her face. Scar tissue was all that remained of the left side. "That's Di. Used to be a bomb disposal expert for Tek-Division, until a sloppy defusing job got half her face blown off. She turned down a teaching job at the Academy of Law and went freelance. Now she sets the most delicious bombs imaginable, don't you Di?"
The disfigured woman winked at Ryan with her remaining eye. "That's right, sweetie. Just don't get on my bad side."
"Last but not least is Fincher," Kara continued. "He likes to mutilate."
Ryan realised a laser blade was being held close to his throat. He turned to find a pasty-faced man standing behind him, mirrored sockets where eyes should be. "Nice to meet you," the juve ventured. Fincher just hissed before returning to his seat. Ryan took the empty chair between Skyhook and Di. Once he was settled into place, Kara punched a code into the projector.
"This is our target. It needs little introduction," she said.
Green light began forming itself into a three-dimensional shape above the projector. Ryan watched as the image solidified in the air, his eyes widening as he recognised the familiar building. They couldn't be planning to take on that, could they? The most heavily fortified, best protected structure in all of Mega-City One - this was to be their target?
Kara looked around the circle. "Tomorrow at noon we will attack and destroy the Grand Hall of Justice." She paused briefly. "Any questions?"
Dredd had been waiting for two hours when Hershey finally emerged from meeting and greeting the last of the foreign delegates. Each was staying in a Justice Department safe house, partly for their own protection and partly to keep them from getting together and causing any trouble before the summit began in twenty-four hours. The Chief Judge bid a less than fond farewell to Smirnoff and walked out into the Big Meg's fresh air.
"Grud on a greenie," Hershey gasped to Dredd. "Does that man breathe synthi-vodka?"
"Close enough."
The Chief Judge strolled on towards her personal hoverpod. "You requested a meeting, Dredd. I'm extremely busy, so we'll have to walk and talk. What did you want to see me about?"
The street Judge fell into step beside Hershey. "Diplomatic immunity. I've already confiscated enough contraband to merit a life sentence in the cubes. Grud only knows what tricks the rest of these-"
"Distinguished guests," Hershey interjected.
"These distinguished guests," Dredd continued, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "will pull in the next two days. Granting them immunity has tied my hands, made it near to impossible for us to maintain any sort of discipline."
The Chief Judge stopped outside her hoverpod. "Let's cut to the chase. You think I've made a mistake allowing these delegates to enter the city, let alone open negotiations with them."
"Permission to speak candidly?"
Hershey sighed in exasperation. "Granted."
"None of these creeps can be trusted to abide by our Customs and Immigrations rules. How can you expect them to abide by the terms of any treaty you might persuade them to sign?"
"We have to mak
e a start somewhere, Dredd."
"Maybe, but-"
"Enough!" The Chief Judge held up a hand to silence him. "Joe, you were my mentor when I went offworld for my first assignment out of the Academy, helping you find the Judge Child. I didn't always agree with your decisions but I learned to respect your reasoning. That was nearly a quarter of a century ago. Give me some credit for having learnt a little about the ways of the world in the intervening years, will you?"
Dredd pursed his lips but said nothing. Hershey softened her voice before speaking again.
"You and I both know Chief Judges rarely last longer than five years in the job. That's almost exactly how long I've had the big chair. The responsibility of trying to keep this city from descending into anarchy, well, it eats away at you, one piece at a time. When I'm gone, I want to leave something behind, something tangible to show my time at the top wasn't just about maintaining the status quo. I've spent my entire career trying to drag the Justice Department a bit further into the twenty-second century. If I can broker a deal for a global extradition treaty, that would be a significant achievement. You know what the benefits will be just as well as I do, if not better."
Dredd nodded.
"I know the diplomatic immunity is going to create more problems than it solves," Hershey continued, "but it was the only way to get some of these citi-states to send delegates here at all. You and the others will have to turn a blind eye to some law breaking. That will stick in your guts, but you'll get over it. Right now securing any sort of compromise from the likes of Sino-Cit and Cuidad Barranquilla is more important than a few petty crimes."
"As long as that's all it is," Dredd replied.
"Agreed." The Chief Judge smiled. "Can I go now?"
Dredd stepped back and let Hershey climb into her hoverpod. Once she was seated inside, the Chief Judge opened the window to add something more. "Trust me when I say I will protect this city and its people by any and all means necessary. If I have to send a thousand Judges to their deaths to achieve that, I will - even you. No single person is more important than this city. You taught me that." Hershey gave her pilot a hand signal to leave before offering a final comment, shouting to make herself heard over the hoverpod's engines. "See you on the streets, Joe!"
Dredd moved away as the vehicle took to the midday sky. Only after the hoverpod was out of earshot could Dredd hear the voice calling via his helmet radio.
"This is Giant! Dredd, can you hear me?"
"Dredd responding. What's the problem?"
"Medical emergency signal from the safe house where our Brit-Cit delegate is staying, corner of Beaker and Honeydew."
Dredd was already running towards his Lawmaster. "On my way!"
Kara outlined the plan of attack and what role each member of the strike team would take. Ryan did his best to keep all the details in his head, knowing he must find a way to communicate them to the Justice Department.
Kara deactivated the holographic projector. The briefing room light automatically brightened in response. "I will be leading this mission personally," she said. "There is no guarantee all or indeed any of us will make it back alive. Should you die, an exceedingly generous compensation payment shall be made to whomever you have chosen. But our attack must be successful. Disrupting the extradition treaty negotiations is vital to ensuring the medium and long-term health of the Bludd Group's operations around the globe. One surgical strike against the summit and Hershey's campaign will be put back years, even decades." She looked around the faces of those present, fixing them in her gaze one by one. "If anybody wants out, well, forget it. You all know too much. If one word of this plan should leak out, the consequences would be extremely prejudicial. Do I make myself clear?"
The strike team members gave a murmur of assent, Ryan joining in.
Kara smiled, apparently satisfied. "You know what you have to do. Begin preparations for tomorrow. Leave nothing to chance. We have less than twenty-four hours before starting our attack. During that time nobody is allowed to leave the building, for obvious reasons. That's it. Dismissed. We reassemble at dawn tomorrow."
She stood aside to let the team members file out. Tattoo Sue left hand in hand with Di, the two women stroking each other's faces affectionately. Fincher was next to go, followed by Angry Sanderson and Skyhook. Ryan remained behind, hoping to talk with Kara. He approached her nervously, biting one side of his bottom lip. "Look, about what happened between us earlier..."
"Put it out of your mind," she replied coldly. "I already have."
"Right. Yes, of course." The juve smiled, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Well, I guess I'll start on my prep work. To get those passcodes you want, I'll need to access a Justice Department terminal or comms line."
Kara nodded her agreement. "There's a scrambled link in the next room, you can hook in from there. But don't stay online more than a minute. PSU traces are getting more sophisticated all the time."
"Got it," Ryan replied with a smile. "Well, I'll... get to it."
Giant was first through the door into Warner's private quarters. The two Judges assigned to stand guard outside the safe house, Eaglestone and Jenkins, reported that nobody had entered or left since the Brit-Cit delegate was installed several hours earlier. Warner had accepted delivery of a small metal suitcase but nothing else out of the ordinary had happened. The first they knew about the medical emergency was when Control relayed news of the alarm button being triggered from within the safe house. The pair had stormed their way inside the building but Warner refused to let them enter his private quarters.
"He claimed to have hit the medical emergency button by mistake," Jenkins explained. "We told him procedures required us to confirm this but he wouldn't come out. That's when we called for back-up."
"You did the right thing," Giant said. He approached the doorway to Warner's private quarters. Normally the closed circuit cameras inside would tell their own story but these had been switched off by the visitor when he arrived. Giant rapped on the door with his knuckles. "Delegate Warner, this is Judge Giant. We met earlier at Customs."
"I remember," Warner replied in a pained voice.
"Can you open the door so I can enter?"
"I made a mistake. There's no medical emergency here. I'm sure I'll be ready in plenty of time for the first session tomorrow."
"Nevertheless, we are duty-bound to protect you from befalling any harm while a guest of Mega-City One. I must insist upon gaining entry."
"No! You can't come in here. I'm not... umm... not ready for you. Maybe later?" Warner suggested hopefully.
Giant took off his helmet and rested his left ear against the door. He could hear someone hobbling about the room inside and a faint whirring noise. "I'm sorry but unless you open this door, I will be forced to break it down."
"You can't do that!" Warner cried out, his voice filled with desperation. "If you do that I will leave this city immediately and never return. Without Brit-Cit's aid your Chief Judge would never have been able to instigate this summit. If I should withdraw, you can be certain the extradition negotiations will collapse!"
Giant stepped back from the door. "Delegate Warner, I'm going to send the other Judges outside so it will be just you and me. Would that be better?"
"It's a start," the Brit-Cit Judge replied after a long silence.
Giant loudly ordered Eaglestone and Jenkins from the building, waiting until they were well outside before returning to the door. "They've left the safe house. It's just the two of us now. How about you open up so I can see that you are alright? If there is no medical emergency, I'll cancel the alarm signal and you can be left in peace. How does that sound?"
"I'm not sure," Warner muttered. "Let me think about it a minute..."
Giant pulled a chair to beside the door and sat down. "There's no rush. I'll be waiting here while you decide what to do."
"Thank you. You're being most understanding."
"You're welcome, sir." Giant stopped to listen. He could hear a
motorcycle rapidly approaching. It screeched to a halt outside the safe house. Raised voices exchanged a few words and then hurried footfalls grew louder. Seconds later Dredd burst in, his mouth set in grim determination.
"Stand aside, Giant! You've tried the diplomatic approach, now it's my turn!" Dredd strode to the door and kicked it down. A high-pitched squeal of terror emitted from inside. Dredd stomped into Warner's private quarters, followed by Giant close behind. They both stopped abruptly when confronted by the scene within. The Brit-Cit Judge whimpered at them.
"I take it you're not sitting comfortably," Dredd said.
Ryan walked into the communications room of Bludd's penthouse. It was a small, dark chamber with cables climbing the walls and snaking across the floor. Like many wishing to keep their actions secure, the crime boss had obviously learned to avoid wireless technology. The Justice Department's Public Surveillance Unit had enjoyed great success intercepting signals from wireless systems, breaking down even the most complex of encryption locks.
The juve soon located the scrambled terminal and opened an interface with the judicial comms network, hacking his way in through a portal that had been deliberately weakened. When Ryan first agreed to go undercover with the Bludd Group, he suggested creating this access route as a way of proving loyalty to his new employer. Only low level security information could be reached via the portal but it would prove his value. As a last resort the former cadet could use it to call for extraction or to pass on urgent data. But Ryan had been warned against this, the risk of detection being too great.
"Make no mistake," Dredd had said, "this is for life and death circumstances only. While you are undercover you stay there: no contact with department personnel, no secret messages, nothing. The only time you call for help is when you want out. Got that?"
Ryan took a deep breath and began typing: BLUDD GROUP PLANS ATTACK ON GRAND HALL OF JUSTICE, NOON TOMORROW. AM STAYING UNDERCOVER TO DISRUPT OPERATION - BR. He looked around the room, his index finger poised above the ENTER button. The juve was conscious of the damp patches around his armpits, trickles of sweat dribbling down his back and legs. Once he sent this message, there was no going back. Within twenty-four hours either he or the strike team would be dead. Ryan tapped the button once and then terminated the connection.