Neal Barrett - Judge Dredd

“Real Scotch whisky,” Griffin said aloud. “No simulations, not today.”

He reached for a glass. He heard the soft laughter behind him, jerked around and nearly dropped the precious bottle on the floor.

“Damn you,” he said, “what do you think you—”

Griffin stopped and sucked in a breath. The man stood in the center of the room, light from the fireplace glancing off the sharp planes of his face. But there was someone, something else—a darkness, a shadow that seemed to lift itself out of the substance of the floor behind the man, swell and grow until it nearly touched the high ceiling itself. It hissed and groaned, and steam rose from its dented metal joints.

Griffin recognized the monster at once. An ABC robot, a relic of some ancient war, A thing like that, here, in his home…

“Are you out of your mind!” Griffin stared at the man in anger. “Why did you bring that… that thing in here? I want it out of here at once!”

Rico smiled. “The Scotch is good. I tried it before you arrived.”

“Anything else I can get you?” Griffin said darkly. “Anything you see, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Rico leaned against the fireplace and crossed his arms. “Chief Justice Griffin. It has a… pleasant ring to it.”

“Yes, that’s all very well and good, but we—”

Griffin stepped toward Rico. The massive robot creaked and slammed a heavy foot in his path. The room shook. Glass trembled in a cabinet on the wall.

“I don’t like this,” Griffin said. “You and that antique killer coming here. I said we’d meet somewhere safe. My home is supposed to be secure, but there aren’t many secrets in Mega-City anymore.”

“I prefer to choose my own meeting places, Mr. Chief Justice.” Rico swept his arm in a casual gesture. “What are you worried about? That fool reporter is dead. The beloved Judge Fargo has taken the Long Walk, and Judge Dredd is on his way to Aspen Prison. I do hope he gets my old cell. It’s quite special. So… isolated, so quiet…”

Rico looked into the fire. “Fargo was no trouble, I assume? Such a fine and noble man.”

Griffin made a noise in his throat. “With Dredd convicted his back was to the wall. He didn’t have any choice. He thought the Long Walk was all his idea. Dredd was the only one who could raise hell during the proceedings, and I made sure he kept quiet.”

Griffin shook his head. “I’m not happy with the disposition of Dredd. He’s an extraordinary man. I could’ve used him in this…”

“No. You could not have used him in this!” Rico swept Griffin’s words aside. “Dredd worships the Law, and he would have blown you away the moment he found out how much you’re pissing on it. Let him freeze his ass off in Aspen. Let him see what it’s like to be me! After all, he and I have so much in common, don’t we?”

Griffin looked at Rico. Rico’s eyes seemed to glow with a light far greater than the reflection from the fire. They were a deeper, more molten red, like the unblinking eyes of the robot that stood silently over Rico’s shoulder.

“I’m… sure you’re right,” Griffin said. “No use wasting time on Joseph Dredd. There’s a great deal of work to be done.”

Rico nodded. “Janus. Yes…”

“You’ll see it soon enough. In the meantime, I want chaos, Rico. The block wars were just the beginning. Now I want fear racing through every street.” He slammed his fist against the wall. “Then the Council will have to turn to me. And when they do, I’ll give them Janus!”

Rico rubbed a hand across his chin. “Fear, terror, panic in the streets. I think I can handle that…”

The air in the hold was thick and foul. The odor was of flatulence and fear, fury and the sour smell of sweat. The prisoners were chained to the hard metal benches. The guards stalked up and down the narrow aisle between them, mean-eyed men with big necks and arms like slabs of iron. They held their riot guns close to their chests, like lovers who might run away. They prayed to dark gods that they’d get a chance to kill someone today. Maybe a con would go mental and howl like a dog. Maybe a man would try to strangle his buddy with his chains. Maybe one or two men would try to escape.

No more than two. They never prayed for more than that. A shuttle guard’s worst nightmare was a hold full of desperate men, all coming at them at once. The guards never told each other, but they knew what they would do. They wouldn’t take a chance. They’d turn their weapons on themselves, blow off their heads in one clean and decent shot.

Fergie knew who the guy was. He knew, but he knew he wasn’t right. He wasn’t right because it didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a chance in hell that the man who had put him in this stinkhole was sitting next to him on the bench. Okay, it looked like the guy. A lot of people looked like someone, but that didn’t mean they were them.

He held his hands up and brought them close together. He peeked through the gap until all he could see were the guy’s dark eyes, a little piece of nose. He closed the gap, opened it, closed it shut again.

“Dredd?” Fergie couldn’t believe it, but now he knew it was true. “Holy sh—Dredd, it’s you!”

“So what?” Dredd didn’t look up.

“Wha-what are you doing here? You can’t be here you’re a—I mean you’re not a—Hey, you’re undercover, right? On the job. Watchin’ someone. Keeping your eyes open. Following a clue. I’m deaf and dumb, okay? My lips are sealed, I will not say a thing.”

Dredd looked up. Fergie felt the man’s eyes drill halfway through his head. “I was convicted of a crime. Wrongly convicted. That’s what happened. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone.”

“You, too?” Fergie slapped his head. “Hey, no kidding? That makes two of us. How about that?”

“No. That makes one of us.” Dredd shook his head. “I remember you. Ferguson, Herman. Interference with public droids. Unlawful use of—”

“Five years? For saving my own miserable ass? You got an innocent man in here. It was big mistake, Dredd!”

“The Law doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Yeah? So what happened to you? How do you explain that?”

Dredd looked at his hands. “I can’t. I don’t know.”

“Oh, right.” Fergie made a face. “But the Law doesn’t make mistakes. So what do you call this? A computer glitch, what? What did they get you for, jaywalking, spitting in the stree—”

“Hey, groon…”

A heavy finger poked Fergie in the ribs. Fergie turned. The con on his right had barbed wire tattooed in horizontal stripes across his face. Now and then, the artist had added tattooed drops of blood.

“You illiterate, or what? You don’t keep up with current events, you goin’ to look stupid, man. You goin’ to be ill-informed.”

“I’ve been busy,” Fergie said. Wire-face had breath like a sewer. “I’m a big-time crime lord. I’ve got a lot of things to do.”

Wire-face grinned. “What he done, man, is he hit two Citizens: that guy on the video an’ his old lady, too.”

Fergie frowned at Dredd. “What’d the droog do, spell your name wrong, what?”

“Hey, you slobs, listen up!” Wire-face strained against his chain and jabbed a finger at Dredd. “Look who we got with us. We got a muckin’ celebrity on board. We got us Judge Dredd!”

The word went up and down the hold, spreading like an angry ripple from one con to the next.

“Dredd.”

“Dredd.”

“Dredd’s here …”