MMORPG: How a Computer Game Becomes Deadly Serious (32 page)

The fact that they all fought the encounters for the first time made it extra hard for all of them. Robert’s inexperience didn’t pose too many problems.

The three Grimstones and Rebecca were such experienced players that they swiftly got a handle on the encounters with their opponents. They fought their way to Lady Naz’jar, the first real challenge. Even though Robert nearly died twice because he didn’t move away soon enough when the awesome elite naga cast something nasty called Vortex, they defeated her without suffering any casualties. The healing skills of Gilead were impressive.

The next encounter had him sweating even harder. After a short cinematic they had to face Commander Ulthok, who didn’t seem to like Gunslinger. His hunter was grabbed twice by this so-called boss and flung helplessly around the room. Robert cursed in terror and nothing Rebecca said could soothe his panic. The experience didn’t kill the hunter, though, so he simply clung on and tried to hide his embarrassment.

When they finally came upon Ozumat, the end boss of Throne of the Tides, Robert was as tense as a violin string. A faint sour smell of sweat was drifting up to his nostrils from under his shirt, adding to his discomfort. To make things worse, this encounter surpassed his most frightening nightmares. The fight had three different phases. It wasn’t just the frightful Ozumat they had to face, but numerous other enemies spawned during the fights and had to be taken out. He constantly had to refocus his attention, following Pharad’s orders.

After what seemed like an eternity, victory was finally theirs. Robert felt completely drained. He sagged back in his chair, and when Rebecca leaned over and ruffled his hair, all he could manage was a faint smile.

“I never want to do something like this again,” he sighed.

“Oh come on, this was fun!” she replied. “Now cheer up because you just won a nice piece of shoulder equipment!”

It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening when they got out of the Throne of the Tides by returning to Ogrimmar through one of Rebecca’s portals. By now, it had gotten even busier in the city. Countless players had bought the extension in a shop during the day and were taking their first steps in the remade world.

“I’m taking a break,” Pharad suddenly announced. “We have a safe lead on these multitudes.”

Robert looked questioningly at Rebecca. She gestured her own indecision. Should they try to prolong the cooperation?

“What is the rest doing?” she asked.

“If he stops, we stop,” Gilead said.

“Shall we meet again later?”

“Maybe. We’ll see,” Gilead answered noncommittally. “Thank you for playing.”

“Thank you for playing,” Robert and Rebecca replied at the same time.

A few moments later the three Grimstones went offline, leaving them alone in the party.

“Well, we do have an appointment tomorrow morning,” Robert said.

“You’re right. Let’s go out to call Andy and update him.”

Andy had been in class all day. “You’re falling behind,” he accused Robert immediately after picking up the phone. “I told the professor you’re still sick, but that won’t hold up for long. You need to show your nose around again.”

On seeing the expression on his face, Rebecca looked questioningly at him. He waved her concern away. “I know. What choice do I have?” he answered.

Andy grunted, not convinced. “Those terrorists are bad enough. You shouldn’t let them ruin your study as well. Rebecca can keep tabs on them. You don’t need to do everything yourself, you know!”

The next morning, even Khalid seemed to be studying. He wasn’t playing WoW as they expected. The monitor showed how he had put his computer aside and was reading a book, scribbling on a notepad now and then. Maybe it was Robert’s unease about his own failure to spend enough time on his studies that fed the thought, but somehow he didn’t believe that Khalid was actually spending time on his Art History subject. Something stirred in his brain at that. It flashed through his mind before he could get hold of it. He sat on his bed, trying to recapture the thought. He felt it was important somehow, an insight just beyond his grasp.

Rebecca looked bemused at him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “Just something that came up in my mind, but was gone the next moment. Just like a dream that you can’t remember exactly and that you can feel slipping away when you awake.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Involuntarily, they both looked at the monitor first. Khalid was still at his desk. Shrugging, Robert went to the door. It was Andy.

“Shouldn’t we be going?” he asked while he stepped into the room.

Rebecca looked at her watch. “It’s a little early, but maybe we should go. The sooner we’re back, the better, because I want to be there when the Grimstones start again.”

Their appointment was at the Holiday Inn on the outskirts of Leiden, just off the motorway. Fitzgerald and Broerse were already there when they arrived. Broerse was on the other end of the lobby, walking nervously up and down and talking frantically into his mobile. Robert made the introductions.

“Good job,” Fitzgerald complimented Rebecca and Andy, whom he had only talked to on the phone. “Your photos were helpful,” he complimented the last. He cast a glance at his colleague, who gestured that his phone call was important.

They sat down. Fitzgerald ordered tea all around.

“First of all, I’d like to apologize for our absence last night,” the Englishman began. “I should have left a phone number for you to call in case of emergency. Nevertheless, I think you all deserve a compliment for the way you handled things without us. You’ve given us something we were desperately looking for, some addresses and,” he looked at Andy, “some photos showing the terrorists.”

They looked a little embarrassed under all this praise. Rebecca was the first to say something. “Well, we
were
a little disappointed that you just vanished without leaving a number to call and we
were
rather scared when we had to follow those terrorists all by ourselves through the night. I wonder, why didn’t you already have Robert’s house under surveillance? Why wasn’t there a team waiting to follow that creep?”

Fitzgerald laughed at her half-teasing tone and, with that, the ice was broken. He leaned forward, and his eyes took on a serious cast. In a hushed tone he replied, “Because not everyone was convinced yet. Let’s just say that some people at certain positions had some difficulties in believing that a couple of students had actually tracked down the Hammer of Righteous Justice through a computer game.”

He sat back and fixed each of them with a stare. “But thanks to Andy and his remarkably sharp photographs, that changed. The man you call Pharad has been identified as Muhammad al-Moutti, one of the most wanted terrorists in the world. We thought he was dead, but that assumption was proven wrong by you.”

These words fell into an abyss of silence. Robert, Rebecca, and Andy exchanged glances, bewilderment showing in their eyes.

Rebecca was the first to speak. “Who is he?” she asked in a quaking voice. The revelation that she’d been walking right behind one of the most dangerous people on the planet some sixteen hours previously had her trembling all over. Robert noticed how pale she had become, and he put his arm protectively around her. She responded by pressing herself against him.

Fitzgerald looked sympathetically at her. “You’ve been brave,” he said softly. “You did something that even the most hardened professionals wouldn’t undertake lightly. And you succeeded far beyond expectation. You have given us his home address. Even now, one of our teams is taking up positions around his place.”

Andy sat forward in an attempt to catch the attention of Fitzgerald. When he saw he had it, he asked what al-Moutti was sought for.

“I have been reading up on his file right from the moment the identification was confirmed. Let me tell you what I know. He’s believed to be Iranian by birth, though little is known of his origins. He used to be the commander of all al-Queda activities in southern Iraq until three years ago. In that capacity, he was responsible for countless deaths. His specialty is believed to be the organization of suicide bombings. Before he reached that exalted station, he was an instructor in a terrorist training camp in Pakistan, just over the border with Afghanistan.”

Clearing his throat, Fitzgerald looked over at Broerse, who was still on the phone.

Noting the unsaturated interest on their faces, he continued, “Al-Moutti disappeared from our radar three years ago. We thought, even hoped, he might have been killed, but there was a tiny blip on the radar half a year later.

A suspicious truck was attacked by NATO troops in the south of Afghanistan. The truck happened to be a transport vehicle for Taliban troops, and a fierce firefight ensued. The NATO commander asked for air support. He got it in the form of two Apache helicopters that minced the Taliban with rockets. Twelve Mujahedin fighters were killed, two managed to get away. One of those fugitives was seriously wounded and was found bled to death the next day.”

“What does this have to do with Pharad?” Robert asked.

“The dead man found was, according to a source deemed reliable, his brother. What’s more, in the cabin of the truck a woman and her infant son were found. Apparently, they were both killed by the firefight. Because such a prominent leader might be involved, a scientific team was called in to confirm the information. They never proved that Muhammad al-Moutti was there. But a DNA test revealed both a kinship between the woman and the infant as between the brother and the infant, though he wasn’t the father.”

“It was Pharad’s son!” Rebecca said excitedly.

Robert couldn’t help but feel sorry. War was a terrible thing. He looked at Fitzgerald, who nodded.

“Yes. Hence, the woman was presumably his wife.”

“What happened to Pharad then? What did he do?” Robert asked. He found that he couldn’t stop calling the man by his WoW name, even though he now knew what he was called in real life.

“We were told by another source that he was so devastated by his loss, that he volunteered to do himself what he had been putting other people up to for so long, become a living bomb. Since we never heard from him again after that, we assumed he had already blown himself up somewhere. You see, there’s rarely enough left of any suicide bomber for positive identification, nor is there always the time nor inclination for very thorough research.”

Rebecca had pulled herself together during Fitzgerald’s narrative. Now she sat up straight, tossing her shoulders to free herself of Robert’s arm.

“What does it mean that he’s surfaced here in the Netherlands?” she asked.

It was Andy who answered for the Englishman. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. He turned to Fitzgerald and looked him straight in the eye. “Those NATO troops were Dutch, weren’t they?”

When he got a nod in return, he continued in an ominous tone, “The Dutch were one of the most prominent foreign armies in Afghanistan until recently. They were in command of an entire province. They had many ground troops, but also F16’s and Apache helicopters deployed over there. On top of that, until last year the Secretary General of NATO was a Dutchman. That alone makes Holland a prime target for Muslim terrorists. Now we have one of the deadliest terrorists in the world with a personal grudge. The Dutch killed his wife, his son, and his brother. He’s here for revenge.”

The sudden voice from behind them made everyone jump, even Fitzgerald. Without anyone noticing, Broerse had finished his call and had come to stand behind them. Apparently, he had heard Andy’s words.

“He’s not only after the Dutch,” he said. “That may be his ultimate goal, but he’s still furthering the goals of his superiors in other places as well.” He held up his mobile phone significantly. “I just got word that The Hammer of Righteous Justice struck again only one hour ago. A suicide attack just cost the lives of numerous people in Antwerp.”

Fitzgerald seemed to have forgotten them. “How do we know it was them?” he asked of his Dutch associate.

“Another painting. It was found in a locker at Brussels central train station after an anonymous tip. According to what I heard, it’s even more graphic and ghastly than what we’ve seen until now.”

“What happened?” Robert asked.

“A bomb went off in one of the narrow streets of the diamond quarter of Antwerp. To be more precise, the Jewish street.” He looked closely at them. “Have you seen them doing anything in that computer game of yours that has any bearing on that, now that you know this?”

Robert just wanted to give a negative answer, when a stern look from Rebecca silenced him. “Yes, we have,” she said softly. She looked at Robert again. “Don’t you remember?” she asked of him. Her eyes were filled with pain. “We wondered what they were doing in the Blood Furnace. Now we know!”

Robert tried to recall what he knew of that instance, but no connection came to mind. He shook his head. “Apart from the fact that we know that Khalid went to Belgium only a few days ago and returned yesterday, I don’t see any connection.”

“Yes you do. Think of the Blood Furnace. They were doing it over and over again! Do you remember what it’s like when you’ve defeated the first boss, called The Maker, and you progress through the door behind him? That corridor you enter next is just like that alley in Antwerp. I’ve been there.” She frowned. “But that isn’t right. In the Blood Furnace, you’re faced with a messy fight with many, many enemies. That’s nothing like a suicide bombing.”

Broerse was looking at her as if she had just put water on fire. His head was bobbing up and down like a madman’s. “It was no suicide bombing,” he said. “It was like you just said. Three heavily armed people entered the crowded street after the bomb went off and started shooting. It took the police over an hour and five casualties to take them down. Eighteen civilians were killed, and many more were wounded.”

They were all stunned by the news. Andy started wondering loudly why they assaulted Antwerp as it wasn’t part of the Netherlands, when suddenly, in the background, near the bar, a television was turned on. Automatically, they turned their heads.
Breaking news, mass killing in Antwerp
was painted in large letters on the screen. Robert felt nauseated.