by David Bishop
Dredd nodded and wandered over to a window booth a few tables away. He slid into the seat facing away from the door and picked up the menu. The choice was surprising but limited: BREAKFAST, LUNCH and SUPPER, all priced at twenty-seven credits. Grud knows what the specials were going to be.
The diner's door opened and swiftly closed again, tinkling the bell above it. Dredd could see the new arrival reflected in the glass at the far end of the eatery. It was a man, heavyset and immaculately dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. The figure looked about the diner before speaking to Karrie-Ann. "I'm here for a meeting." The waitress made a bored gesture in Dredd's direction. The newcomer approached the Judge's booth, moving with ease despite his bulk. He stopped and pointed at the seat opposite Dredd. "May I?"
"Be my guest," Dredd replied dryly.
The newcomer slipped into the booth and positioned himself opposite the Judge. Before he could say anything else, the waitress was sauntering over from the counter, already intoning a list of specials in a tired monotone. "Good evening, gentlemen. Tonight's specials are anarchy, chaos, cunning and guile. The Nothing Could Be Finer is also happy to offer its signature dish, revenge. We normally serve this cold, but it can be heated through if you prefer."
"Very droll," the newcomer replied. "We'll just have synthi-caf."
"Two synthi-cafs, coming right up." Karrie-Ann strolled away, her high heels clicking on the floor as she returned to the counter.
"I hope that's alright with you," the new arrival said to Dredd. "You look like you could use a pick-me-up. Been a long day, has it?"
The Judge did not reply.
"I'm terribly sorry, I realise I haven't introduced myself." The newcomer stretched out a hand for Dredd to shake. "My name is Bludd - Jesus Bludd."
SEVEN
"I know who you are, creep," Dredd replied, folding his arms. Bludd withdrew his offer of a handshake, instead resting both arms on the table.
"You know something? You're just as I expected," Bludd said. "Just as I remembered. I saw you once, more than twenty years ago, after Cal almost brought this city to its knees. You were dispensing justice to the Cosmic Punks gang, not far from this diner. A most impressive display."
"They challenged the rule of the Law."
"And you crushed them for that, single-handedly. Quite remarkable."
"I was doing my job."
"Maybe," Bludd said. "But there was something else going on that day. It wasn't only a Judge bringing some street scum to justice. You were imposing your will on them, sending a message to everyone else in Southside 41 and the rest of the city. You were showing them the Law was back in town, the Judges were in control once more, deploying the firm spank of authority to remind everyone who was boss. You were giving a masterclass in the application of power. I remember that day well."
"What about what happened to your mother? Do you remember that too?"
Bludd smiled. "I wondered how long it would be before you'd bring that up. No doubt the department's profilers and Psi-Division empaths pinpoint my mother's rape and murder as the key incident that turned me to a life of crime, yes?"
"I don't put much stock in psychological profiles," Dredd replied. "All I need to know is who's breaking the Law, then I break them."
"Then why mention my mother?"
"Call it a test."
"Really? So you don't just use physical force to break perps, Dredd. You're just as happy to break them mentally."
"I'll use whatever weapons I can."
"An admirable approach. One I utilise myself."
Karrie-Ann returned to the booth, carrying two cups of synthi-caf. She placed them between the two men before straightening up again, the short skirt of her uniform touching the tops of her white mesh stockings. Bludd reached out a hand and slid it under the skirt, all the while smiling at Dredd.
"Do you like my assistant Kara? She does love these little role-playing exercises, taking on a fresh persona to suit my needs."
"She destroyed the curator at the Dustbuster."
"Really? How is Dr Swanson these days? I haven't seen her in three or four months," Bludd ventured blithely.
"Dead. She committed suicide earlier today," Dredd snarled.
"How unfortunate. Still, as you say, we should always use whatever weapons we can. You can go back to being a waitress now, my dear." Kara strode back to the counter, all the while loudly cracking her gum. "Such a sweet girl. Do you know how I acquired her services?"
Dredd shook his head.
"Payment for a gambling debt, if you can believe that, along with this eatery. Do you like it? I was contemplating starting a chain of Nothing Could Be Finer Diners across the city. I have a fondness for the twentieth century: its style, its culture, its contribution to the arts. I collect the masterpieces of that era: paintings by Warhol, films by Eastwood, novels by Wyndham. They inspire me and I wish to share this inspiration with others."
"Is that why you had the Evil Empire exhibit stolen from the Dustbuster today? To share your inspiration with others?" Dredd sneered.
Bludd ignored the jibe. "This eatery is a perfect replica of a twentieth century American roadside cafe. Of course, when I chose to move the diner to this location, I made sure everyone in Southside Sector 41 knew it was under my protection."
"That explains the lack of vandalism," Dredd said.
"My reputation does have its advantages," Bludd conceded. "A business acquaintance of mine got in over his head and felt impelled to surrender this place and his beloved Kara to me as compensation. It was only when she entered my employ I discovered Kara's many other talents. She is one of the most powerful psykers I have ever encountered, utterly ruthless and completely amoral. Better yet, she is quite devoted to me, doing anything I ask with anyone or to anyone. You could taste her talents, if you like?"
"No thanks. You should be careful of her too." Dredd leaned forward in his seat. "You never know when she might turn. Someone that fond of role-playing... How do you even know Kara is her real persona?"
"Sow all the seeds of doubt you want, they will not grow within me."
"Just don't say I didn't warn you." The Judge leaned back on the bench again. "You called this meeting, Bludd. What do you want to talk about?"
"To be honest, there are some questions I've always wanted to ask you. For instance, how can you devote your entire life to fighting a losing battle?"
"I don't."
"You must know you can never eradicate crime, not in a city of four hundred million people - every one of them a potential perp. Yet you persist in trying."
"I believe in the Law," Dredd replied. "I believe in justice."
"The two are not always the same thing, but that's another debate," the crime boss said. "One day you must lose this unequal battle, Dredd. Some perp will get the drop on you and you'll die, face down in a pool of your own blood. No glory, no fanfare. Just another dead Judge, one of thousands killed every year, all losing their personal battles to win the war against crime."
"It's not about winning the war. It's about winning the battles."
"But it's a hopeless fight."
"What's the alternative, Bludd? Anarchy? The people need the Law, they need order. Without it, Mega-City One would be torn apart within weeks, even days. Millions would die and for what? The want of the Law."
"I can't decide if your life is heroic or an exercise in self- delusion."
"Delusion is what you must be suffering from if you believe you can elude the Law forever, creep."
"No need to get unpleasant. Now that I think about it, you are the ultimate existentialist. Did you ever study Kierkegaard?"
"He wasn't required reading at the Academy."
"What a pity. He neatly summed up your approach to life, Dredd. Søren Kierkegaard was a nineteenth century Danish philosopher who believed all human existence was absurd. He suggested the only way for an individual to combat this absurdity was devoting themselves to a life of their own choosing. Doesn't that sum up th
e singular devotion to duty required of all Judges?"
"You tell me."
"Or there's the German philosopher Johann Gottlieb Fichte. He proposed that since we can never hope to understand why we are alive, the individual should choose a goal and pursue it wholeheartedly, despite the certainty of death and the meaninglessness of action. A neat précis of your existence, don't you think? You know you can never win the war against crime, yet you continue fighting it until you die, because that is the life you have chosen. You chose the nature of your existence, Dredd, just like I chose the nature of mine. It's what we do. We are both existentialists. We are more alike than you can bring yourself to admit."
"You're wrong, Bludd. You were offered the chance of becoming a Judge, of bringing justice to those who raped and murdered your mother, but you refused that chance. Instead you chose to become a criminal like your mother's killer, making money from the suffering of others. Why?"
"I am nothing like the man who attacked my mother. Anyway, he did find justice, just not at the hands of the Law. Your kind let him escape on a technicality. It took someone else to make him pay for what he did."
"You call being shoved into a public grinder justice?"
"He got what he deserved. Nothing more."
"And you gave him that justice."
Bludd smiled. "You don't honestly expect me to admit to that, do you?"
"You still haven't answered my question: why turn to crime? Why become like the perp who hurt and killed your mother?"
"You say I did, but you haven't proven it. If I am the underworld boss the Justice Department believes me to be, why have I never spent an hour in an iso-cube? Why am I still at large, free to allegedly commit and commission more crimes? Aren't I another example of you losing the battle as well as the war?"
"Our testing showed you possessed a high IQ, great guile and cunning. Most perps act from stupidity or passion. You think first. That gives you an advantage from the beginning. You let others do your dirty work so they do the time when we catch them. You haven't been caught, yet. But that doesn't absolve you of your crimes. Why? Why choose this life?"
"I was inspired by you, Dredd." Bludd leaned back in his seat, locking his hands together behind his head. "I saw what you could do the day you beat the Cosmic Punks. You were the best Judge then and you're probably still the best there is. I decided to become the best there was at what I do. Now, after twenty years of training myself, I am ready for my greatest coup." The crime boss took a sip of his synthi-caf, thoughtfully watching Dredd. "Your friends at the Justice Department like to foster the illusion they control this city, but you and I both know that simply isn't true."
"Do we?"
"The Big Meg is never more than one step away from anarchy. You and the other Judges keep fighting to maintain order, but what happens when you lose the war? Who will be in control then?"
Dredd folded his arms. "You want to rule the city, is that it?"
Bludd laughed hollowly. "Of course not. Nero Narcos proved the stupidity of such an endeavour. He spent years developing his scheme to usurp the Judges. One of your kind stumbled across his masterplan and Narcos felt obliged to put it into action. He smashed the Justice Department's control of this city in just a few hours only to discover running the Big Meg was a curse, not a blessing. Who would want to be in charge? Even the Judges don't want the job, if they are honest. You only assumed power by public demand after the Atomic Wars. No, I won't be repeating the folly of Nero."
"Then what?" Dredd asked.
"Consider the next few hours a demonstration of where real power resides. You can talk about justice and the Law all you wish, Dredd. But when chaos hits the Big Meg, you will see the truth." Bludd rubbed a finger against his lips before speaking again. "Have you ever heard of the old expression that in the kingdom of the blind..."
"The one-eyed man is king," Dredd replied. "What about it?"
"I've been researching the history of that adage. Apparently it's a mistake; a corrupted quotation, if you will. The adage originally sprang from the pen of Erasmus, a fifteenth century humanist and satirist, a man of letters, if you will. He wrote that in the valley of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. I find it interesting how popular usage alters words to suit itself, don't you?"
"Get to the point, Bludd."
"I just wanted to plant that seed in your mind for later. You never know when such arcane knowledge might come in handy. Your singular vision, your quest for justice may be all that saves this city in the coming crisis." The crime boss swirled the last of his synthi-caf around inside the cup and then swallowed the liquid. "Well, I must say I've enjoyed this little chat of ours. It's always a pleasure to meet somebody else who excels in their field of endeavour."
"You really are bloated with your self-importance, aren't you?" Dredd spat back, disgust evident in the set of his jaw.
"On the contrary. I am perfectly aware that as of this moment, whether I live or die is of little consequence to a vast number of people. That may change, it may not. I am not the one who suffers the delusion of believing they can control this city, that they can hold back the inevitable. I just wish I could be here to see that smug authority wiped from your face, Dredd, and from the face of every other Judge on the planet. Alas, this is where our paths diverge again. We will not meet again. Goodbye." Bludd stood, signalling for Kara to join him.
"Going somewhere?" Dredd asked.
"Regrettably, yes. Much as I would like to stay and continue our little philosophical debate, business calls me elsewhere. Remember what I have said, Dredd. It may be of help to you in the coming hours."
"Whatever you've got planned, Bludd, I'll find a way of stopping it. You won our first battle today, but I'll win the war. Count on it, creep!"
"Ahh, bravado. The last resort of a beaten man," Bludd replied. Kara emerged from behind the counter, still wearing the guise of a waitress. She opened the eatery's front door for Bludd. The crime boss stopped to offer one last comment to Dredd. "By the way, I ask you to remain here for a few more minutes after we have departed."
"Why?"
"Let's just say you will hear something of value and see something of interest. Besides, if I am the notorious crime boss you claim, I need time to make my getaway. How is it Judges say goodbye to each other? Oh yes, that's it. See you on the streets, Joe." Bludd sauntered out of the diner, chuckling quietly. Kara made an obscene finger gesture at the lawman before following her master. The door swung shut behind her, leaving just Dredd in the diner. He waited a full minute before pressing the letter "E" on his name badge.
"Dredd to Hershey, did you hear all of that?"
"Loud and clear," the Chief Judge replied via Dredd's helmet radio. "Tek and Psi-Divisions are analysing everything Bludd uttered for clues about what he has planned. What did you make of it?"
"If he was like most perps, I'd say he was in love with the sound of his own voice. But Bludd isn't like most perps."
"Agreed. One thing was clear, whatever he's got planned, it's happening tonight. Bludd repeatedly talked about the next few hours, the coming crisis. The reference to a 'kingdom of the blind' must be significant too."
"Creep was taunting us," Dredd said. "He's-"
Suddenly a high-pitched electronic squeal cut through the radio transmission. Dredd cried out in pain, his eardrums assaulted by the sound just on the edge of hearing. After a few moments it stopped as abruptly as it had started, replaced by a woman's soothing voice.
"Tut, tut! You were told not to bring any communications devices to your meeting, Judge. For that infringement there shall be a forfeit. However, first things first. Look under your cup of synthi-caf."
Dredd recognised the voice as belonging to Kara. She must still be watching him. He glanced round the diner and spotted a small camera set into a corner of the ceiling. "That's right, I've got my eye on you. Now look under your cup of synthi-caf, lawman."
Dredd raised the still full cup from its saucer and peered beneath it. A
small, translucent plastic disc adhered to the bottom of the cup. "Remove the device and place it against the outside of your helmet, close to the area covering one of your ears," Kara commanded. Dredd followed her instructions. Once the disc was fastened to his helmet, he could hear only Kara's voice. "The disc jams all incoming signals to your radio except mine and prevents you from calling anyone else for help. It has a few more interesting properties, but we'll get to those in due course. Our conversation cannot be traced, nor can the signal between us easily be hacked by Tek-Division. From now on you speak only to me and hear only my voice. Is that clear?"
"What do you want?" Dredd asked.
"We're going to have some fun, you and I. We're going to play a little game. Normally you are the hunter and the perp is the hunted. Tonight we're going to do some role reversal. For a change you will be the hunted, while four perps try to hunt you down. You met two of them earlier - Sanderson and Fincher. The identity of the others I will keep a secret, for now. It should make for an interesting evening."
"Why should I do what you say?"
"Remember that forfeit I mentioned? Take a look out through the diner windows. Diagonally opposite you will see a building called Joe Chill Block. How many people live in that skyscraper?"
"About thirty thousand."
"Now, imagine what would happen if that city block was suddenly destroyed by a laser beam projected from a twentieth century satellite in geostationary orbit above the Big Meg."
"Oh grud," Dredd whispered. He was already running towards the door of the diner, trying to remove the jamming device from the side of his helmet. "Dredd to Control, can you hear me? Dredd to Control, respond!"
"It's no use, Joe," Kara replied. "I told you, the disc will jam any attempt you make to call for help. Besides, the energy pulse is already coming."
The Public Surveillance Unit's headquarters were located inside the Statue of Judgement, a massive monument constructed in the shape of a Judge that dwarfed the nearby Statue of Liberty. Inside the PSU's central monitoring chamber were dozens of terminals where analysts pored over data from thousands of sources. As well as keeping tabs on a city of four hundred million people, the PSU staff were also tasked with watching out for any external threats to the Big Meg. Judge Kerri Levene had just come on station with the night shift when a red warning light began flashing beside her terminal.
