MMORPG: How a Computer Game Becomes Deadly Serious (26 page)

Robert nodded. He briefly wondered why the man was stating the obvious. When he didn’t respond, Fitzgerald continued, “Either way, if it’s true that the Hammer of Righteous Justice is using World of Warcraft as their means of communication, and even as their base of operations, that makes them the first. There have been some worries about this, but we haven’t seen it actually happen. Yet.”

“Until now.”

“Maybe. I don’t say it is, I don’t say it isn’t.”

Robert was getting a bit irritated. Did they believe him or not? If they believed him, what were they going to do about it? People were dying!

“So what are you going to do about it?” He jumped to the conclusion his brains had reached a second before. “I believe it’s time to take action.”

“Maybe. It’s no use to take action when it doesn’t lead to results. We could arrest your neighbor now, but what would we gain by that? Would he confess? Would he give us the names of his accomplices? Would he give us the name of his commander? Would he tell us where and when to find them? And would he tell us what their next target is?”

Robert shrugged. “No.”

“And that,” Fitzgerald raised a finger at him, like a professor addressing a particularly stubborn student, “is why the national security is in our hands, and not in yours.”

The rebuke stung, but Robert had to admit that the man made a point. “So what’s going to happen next?” he asked.

“First, we’re going to establish that we’re indeed onto something. We usually do that by observation. We’re going to follow your man wherever he goes. We’ll see who he meets, who he talks to, and we’ll check those people out. If necessary, we’ll start observing those people as well. And we’ll tap his phone of course.”

A look passed between the two officials and now Sjoerd Broersma took over. The Dutchman finished his coffee and used his index finger to brush some springy grey hairs from his forehead. “We were especially intrigued by how you connected the brutal attack on the
Droesem
to the Hammer of Righteous Justice.”

“The
Droesem
?”

“The ship attacked in the harbor of Enkhuizen at the IJsselmeer.”

“Ah yes.” Robert looked expectantly at Broersma. When nothing more was forthcoming, he continued, “The connection was logical. We knew they were going to attack a ship, because we observed them rehearsing exactly such an event. When we heard about the attack you just mentioned, we put one and one together.”

Again, both men remained silent for a short while. Then, with a sigh, Broersma reached into his pocket and withdrew a paper. He slid it over to Robert, blank side up. When he turned it over, Robert saw it was a blow up of a photograph. The picture showed a painting, mounted on a wood-paneled wall. The painting was clearly visible. It was ghastly. It showed the head and torso of a bearded dark-skinned man. The head was in an unnatural position, lolling sideways as if all the muscles and sinews had been severed. Any doubts about the fact that the person was dead were dispelled by a thin rivulet of blood that trickled from the slack mouth.

Robert shuddered. “What’s this?” he asked. “Why are you showing this to me?”

“Gruesome, isn’t it?” Fitzgerald said. “But take another look at the picture. You’ll see why this is important.”

When he looked again, he immediately saw what he’d missed the first time. He’d been too shocked by the dead man in the picture. He nodded and handed the paper back to Broersma.

“I presume that you found this on the ship?”

The Dutchman nodded. “Neatly fastened to the wall. The police missed it at first, but finally someone wondered about the strange painting. Then someone noted that the dead face belonged to the owner of the ship, who was lying only a few feet away in a similar pose. And when they read the signature on the painting, we were called in.”

“
The Hammer of Righteous Justice
,” Robert breathed.

“Exactly.”

“Why? We wondered about that. The papers said the boat belonged to a drugs dealer and that this was nothing but a liquidation in the criminal circuit. A gang war.”

“In a way, that’s not untrue. Jahal al Haddouti, a Saudi Arabian, was certainly running a drug trafficking business.” He held up the photograph again, indicating he was talking about the dead man. “He was an important link in the export business of Afghan heroin to Europe. On the surface, he was just that. But two months ago, we found out that the profits were laundered in Luxembourg and Germany, then transferred to a bank account that we’d been watching lately. Money from this account had been used to purchase explosives for a particularly devastating suicide bombing in Pakistan.”

“I see.” Robert was trying to come to grips with the sudden broadening of the scope of what they were dealing with. “So, this man was a terrorist as well? Why was he killed then?”

“Good question. And the answer has us worrying. When we found out about all this, Jahal al Haddouti was quietly brought in. We surprised him at one of the rare occasions that he wasn’t surrounded by his body guards. We picked him up while he was visiting his mistress.”

At this point, Fitzgerald took over. “Much sooner than we expected, Al Haddouti broke. It seemed he had gotten so accustomed to his luxury life, that he just couldn’t stomach the prospect of a lifetime in prison. Unlike many terrorists, he was in it for the money, not for some higher religious goal. He couldn’t give us very valuable information, because he was only a middle man after all. Still, he cooperated much better than expected. To top all that, we were able to close a deal. In return for his freedom, he would continue his business as usual for six more months, giving us full disclosure on all his transactions, clients and contacts. At the end of that period, he’d be able leave the country unhindered and vanish.”

“So he was killed because he was turned?”

Fitzgerald nodded. “And they weren’t subtle about it either. By leaving that painting behind, they sent us the message they knew exactly what had happened.”

Robert served another round of coffee. Now it was his turn to talk. Again, he wanted to start by telling how Andy and Rebecca were on Khalid’s trail right at that moment. However, the two men insisted he told everything from the beginning. This he did, even though it was sometimes hard to keep focus because of the many questions they had. They also wanted him to show World of Warcraft to them, which he did. He started by taking them to the relevant places. They were especially interested in the ship. Afterward, they spent some time randomly navigating several zones and cities. While they were online, Rebecca called to check in. He told her he was still talking to the AIVD and put her on the speaker phone.

She introduced herself and got straight to the point. “We lost him. He got out at Antwerp Central Station, and I was able to follow him right through the main exit and onto the plaza in front. Andy wasn’t here yet, he was having trouble getting into the city. Khalid went down into the parking lot underneath the station. He had a car waiting for him! He just went up to it and drove away. There was nothing I could do.”

Fitzgerald cursed. “Did you get the license plate?”

“Of course!” she said indignantly. “It was a dark blue Toyota Corolla with Belgian plates.”

She read off the plate number and after Broerse had written down the combination of letters and numbers, he left the room. Fitzgerald asked her more questions about the trip, but when it was clear that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, they ended the call. Rebecca and Andy would drive home by car and expected to be back in the evening.

Broerse returned and they continued their questioning. When Robert was at the end of his narrative, he felt utterly exhausted.

“You’ve done well,” Fitzgerald said. “It took guts to proceed when the police turned you down. We can only thank you for that.”

Robert nodded. “Will you take over from us now?” Speaking the words, he suddenly realized he didn’t really want the adventure to end.

Again, a look passed between the two men. “No, not yet. We’re going to ask you, the three of you, to cooperate and continue like before. Well, not exactly like before, but close. A lot seems to revolve around World of Warcraft, and we have no experience whatsoever with the game. On top of that, you’ve befriended him, and that may be the best way to get information. Will you help us?”

Feeling relieved, Robert said he would. “So, what will happen next?”

“We’re going to put surveillance on Khalid as soon as he surfaces again. And we’ll obtain permission to get access to all kinds of information, like his phone bills, credit card statements and the like. Maybe even to enter his room. Apart from that, we’re going to see if it’s possible to get information from Blizzard Entertainment on the accounts of the Hammer of Righteous Justice through our colleagues in the United States. That may take some time, but it may also give us some valuable information like IP addresses that lead somewhere.”

Robert quickly explained what Rebecca and he had planned. A pensive look appeared on Fitzgerald’s face, but it was Broerse who answered. “You’ll understand that we can’t officially endorse such an action. If I were to know what you intend to do, it would be my duty to tell you to refrain from it. Therefore, I have just forgotten what you said a minute ago. You understand that we’re not responsible for anything you do as a private citizen?”

Keeping eye contact with the Dutchman, Robert nodded.
They were still on their own
. “I would never do anything that goes against the law,” he said solemnly.

With the promise they would be in touch, the two men departed. Alone again, Robert didn’t know what to do. He logged on to WoW but found that he wasn’t in the mood. He knew he should call Rebecca and Andy, but the prospect of more talking daunted him. All those long days and nights playing World of Warcraft, in combination with the tension of dealing with dangerous terrorists, suddenly took their toll. With a deep sigh, he put aside his fatigue and made the call after all.

~~~

Chapter XXIII

Even
though they knew they were alone, Robert and Rebecca stole soundlessly into the room. The place smelt stale and dank, as if it had been unoccupied for weeks instead of a mere twenty hours. Khalid always kept his curtains shut, allowing even less of the cigarette smoke to escape through the small window opening. Two full ashtrays were on the desk; another was right next to the bed. A mountain of clothing was piled high on a chair, probably waiting to be taken to a laundry service. One corner was taken up by a small pile of books that balanced perilously on an empty cardboard box. Rebecca carefully fingered the uppermost book. It was about Johannes Vermeer, the famous Dutch painter. At first glance, all the books seemed to be related to the subject of Art History, which Khalid was studying.

“Let’s start,” Robert mouthed silently. The chance that they would be caught was negligible, still he wanted to be out of there as soon as possible.

She nodded and took the tiny camera out of the plastic bag she was carrying. Since Khalid’s room was an exact copy of Robert’s, albeit in mirror image, they been able to test and practice the set up endlessly. They worked quickly and efficiently.

Rebecca lithely clambered onto the desk that was right against the window sill. She took a moment to balance herself, then positioned the camera on the small wooden ledge just above the extreme left hand top corner of the window. She made it so that it was mostly hidden by the curtain. She held out her hand, and Robert handed her two strips of transparent tape. She stuck one to the back of her hand and used the other to fasten the webcam. The other piece of tape was used to secure it in place. After a last check, she switched it on.

Robert was kneeling on the ground with Rebecca’s laptop. It took far longer than expected for the Bluetooth connection to be established. After some time of fruitless waiting, he got a failure message.

“It isn’t connecting!” he whispered urgently.

With a barely suppressed curse, she jumped down from the desk and kneeled beside him. Her swift fingers ran over the keys. After two attempts, she sat back. With a pensive look on her face she stared at the ceiling.

“Check the relay unit,” she ordered.

With a nod, Robert scrambled to his feet and went back to the hallway. There were two lights fastened to the ceiling, one of which wasn’t working. He stretched and reached up to the defunct one. With a few turns he unfastened the opaque crystal ball and removed it. Inside was the tiny device they had put inside earlier. He turned it over in his hand and saw it was switched off. “Idiot!” he murmured to himself.

“Check again!” he called softly to Rebecca.

Just when he had put the crystal ball back where it belonged, Rebecca appeared in the doorway. She gave him a thumbs up and turned back into the room.

With a nimble jump, she was on the desk again. He kneeled by the computer and looked at the screen. It showed the table top in amazing detail.

“A little to the left,” he instructed. She tweaked the camera until Robert indicated that it was right. Once it was accurately aimed at the spot where Khalid usually placed his laptop, Robert used the arrow keys to test the zoom of the camera. Satisfied, he closed the laptop.

“Ready? Let’s get out of here!”

She gave him a broad smile and held up her hand for a high five. He met the gesture, and they stood like that for a minute, surveying the room. Only when they were satisfied that it looked exactly like how they found it, they left the room. Robert secured the door behind them, making sure it was locked.

“We still don’t know the meaning of the word AlMaud,” Rebecca mused half an hour later. She was lounging at the desk in a relaxed pose with her feet on the table top. With one hand she was idly clicking through endless pages with Google search results.