MMORPG: How a Computer Game Becomes Deadly Serious (39 page)

“Come on!”

He let go and slid into the canal. At first he felt nothing, but then the cold wetness penetrated his clothing. Still, it wasn’t as bad as he feared. With a soft splash, Rebecca was in as well. He heard her gasp as the water touched her skin.

Keeping to the wall of the quay, they silently moved sideways until they were under the bridge. Total darkness enveloped them. The Rapenburg was so deep that their feet didn’t touch the bottom. Fortunately, they didn’t have to keep treading water. Rebecca’s groping hands accidentally found a rusting iron ring that stuck out of the slippery wall. They both gripped it. They didn’t talk, instinctively sensing that they should preserve even the tiniest bit of energy. They just hung on for life.

Their pursuers arrived only a scant few minutes later. Robert and Rebecca held their breath as they actually came to stand right on top of their bridge. Even though they were speaking in a foreign language and their voices were down, it was quite clear that they weren’t amused by their escape. One voice especially was nearly hysterical with anger. After some discussion they split up, evidently to cover different sides. Robert started breathing again, but the cold was getting to him. He began to gasp. His fingers were getting numb, and the effort of holding on to the ring was getting harder. It was obvious that Rebecca was experiencing the same. He wondered how long it would take before their pursuers gave up. The centre of Leiden was a maze of small streets.

The men hadn’t been gone long when the sound of sirens suddenly rent the quiet night air. Blue strobes of light reflected on the still water of the Rapenburg. Two police cars raced at high speed over the narrow street on the other side of the canal. They turned sharply at their bridge, went over, and disappeared. Shortly after, an ambulance followed. Robert tried to determine where it stopped by the sound of the siren. Close by. Maybe even at his own house.

“Shall we go?” he asked. “I think it’s safe now.”

She nodded. “Yes, please!”

They started to swim. It was hard. Their bodies had been exposed to the water for quite some time, and their muscles were cramped from the cold. Finally, they reached the place where they had entered the canal. Only when he tried to pull himself out of the water, Robert felt how dead tired he was. Somehow he managed, and he even had some strength left to help Rebecca out of the water. Supporting each other, they stumbled up the few steps and fell onto the street. They both started to shiver uncontrollably.

Footsteps ran in their direction. Hands pushed him on his back, then lifted him. Was he on a bed? He didn’t know and didn’t care. He was dimly aware that someone was tugging at his clothing. What was that silver stuff they kept trying to wrap around him? Where was Rebecca? Was she all right?

A bright light shone in his face, bringing him back a little. A face appeared briefly before him. It seemed familiar. Who was it? Then he heard a voice. “It’s him, thank God!”

Now he knew. The face belonged to Fitzgerald of the AIVD. Too late, as usual. Should he smile at that thought?

He passed out before he could make up his mind.

~~~

Chapter XXXIV

“
It
may sound funny, but jumping into the water was actually the best thing you could do,” the physician announced. He stopped probing Robert’s knee and shook his head. “Nothing is torn or broken. Your knee would have been twice as thick now if you hadn’t gone for a swim.”

Robert grimaced. Despite the injection for the pain, he still felt his knee pulsing. He was feeling dull and detached. It was as if the events of tonight still hadn’t caught up with him yet. On some level he was aware of his surroundings and the doctor who kept talking to him, but it all felt as if he was looking at himself from a distance.

“You know, usually ice is applied to an injury like this as soon as possible, to minimize the swelling,” the white-coated doctor continued. “Dipping your leg in cold water for such a long time was unorthodox, but certainly effective. Still, I’d counsel against it next time!”

“Don’t worry, it won’t happen again,” Robert replied producing a tiny smile. He forced himself to concentrate. “When will I be able to walk again?”

“At a guess? Tomorrow it’ll still be painful. The day after, a little better. Ten days from now, you won’t be feeling it at all.”

They were in a small room in the Academic Hospital of Leiden. On the floor was blue linoleum; the walls were freshly painted white. The doctor was on a low swivel chair, Robert was sitting on an examination bed. They hadn’t been in the water long enough for actual hypothermia to set in, but it had been a close call. He had been told several times that another ten minutes or so, might have led to cold shock and then drowning.

His left hand was bandaged. Apparently, when he groped for the top of the wall, a piece of glass had embedded itself in the palm of his hand. Again, he had been fortunate, as no sinews or main blood vessels had been damaged. He also had many superficial scratches on one side of his face caused by fragments of concrete when the bullet hit the wall. All in all, he had been extremely lucky. Rebecca even more so. She had survived the ordeal without barely a scratch.

As soon as the doctor was finished with him, Robert fled the small examination room. He longed for some privacy to let his mind come to rest. Unfortunately, he limped right into Fitzgerald and Broerse. They were sitting on either side of Rebecca in the waiting area adjoining the examination room he just left. When he approached, Rebecca looked up at him with a wan smile. The thought of more talking appalled him. He was so fatigued that sleep and rest were the only things he really wanted. Or maybe he craved Rebecca’s arms around him even more.

“I just want to go home,” he said to no one in particular.

Fitzgerald stood and shook his head. “Impossible,” he said. There was sympathy in his voice. “Not for a few days at least. Your place is a crime scene now.”

He looked at Rebecca. She nodded. Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes. “They killed a girl,” she said and started sobbing uncontrollably. She flew into his arms and squeezed his neck so hard she nearly choked him. He looked over her shoulder at the two men.

“Lisa Duchamps,” Broerse confirmed. “Probably went to the bathroom at the wrong moment. Her throat was slit.”

Robert felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. His painful knee buckled. He closed his eyes. He knew her, of course. A petite dark haired girl from France, in Leiden for a stint at the Chemistry faculty. She lived on the ground floor. Now she was dead. Because of him. Was there no end to this nightmare?

They took them to a nearby village called Wassenaar. Broerse drove, Rebecca and Robert were in the back of the car. She rested her head on his shoulder and, by her regular breathing, she seemed to be asleep. He stared out of the window with unseeing eyes.

The car turned into a long driveway and stopped in front of a large luxurious mansion. They got out and let themselves be led to a spacious bedroom. They didn’t need to undress. Some kind of night dress had been issued to them at the hospital. Within minutes, they were asleep.

They slept the remainder of the day and the next night. When he finally woke, he felt remarkably fresh. He got out of bed and winced at the painful soreness of his knee. It got better after he stretched it several times. There were clothes on a chair next to the bed, jeans, a T-shirt, and a comfortable woolen jersey. They fit perfectly. He was just tying the laces of a pair of brand new sneakers with some effort, when he heard the sheets rustle. Rebecca was sitting up and looking at him.

He crossed over to the bed and sat next to her. Suddenly, he was at a loss for words. For some time, they just looked at each other. Finally, she smiled at him.

“You saved our lives,” he whispered softly. Then he asked the question that had been haunting him all along. “What happened? How did they find out about us?”

A shadow crossed her eyes, making the dark brown go actual black. “Hunterino,” she said solemnly.

“But I thought you said-’

“I know.” She slumped back against the cushions. “We were stupid and greedy. Or maybe we just tried too hard to make it look like we were real account raiders. Remember how we sold all his items and stuff for a few coppers each to Hunterino? Think it through!”

“Yes, and-’ He broke off as it suddenly dawned on him. “My God. The mail!”

She nodded. “Yes. It takes an hour for the monetary proceeds of any auction to reach the seller. During that time, the check is ‘in the mail’. We didn’t think of that.”

“So when Khalid logged on again,” he supplied, “he found a mailbox full of transfers from the auction house. Each one named Hunterino as the purchaser!”

“Exactly. Don’t ask me how, but it came to me in my sleep. Somehow, I immediately sensed that they would want revenge. They’re not used to losing. What we did to them, everything we did, must be an unbearable humiliation to them.”

An hour later, they had wolfed down an enormous breakfast and drank so much coffee and orange juice that Robert felt he was about to burst. His body responded to the nourishment with a pleasant sense of fatigue. He stretched his legs under the table and looked across at Broerse and Fitzgerald. He knew this conversation was inevitable, important even, and he was ready for it.

To his surprise, it was Rebecca who kicked off. “Why couldn’t we reach you? Why weren’t you around when we were more or less arrested? Why didn’t you tell those goons that we were the good guys, the only ones who had actually achieved something? It wasn’t our fault that the arrests were a cock-up. It was thanks to us that they could even try in the first place!”

Fitzgerald merely inclined his head at her anger. “It may not mean much to you, but the case was taken over by the highest levels in our organization. That’s why we were suddenly out of the loop.”

“And now?”

“Now it has been decided that we are acting as your contact again.”

Broerse took over from his colleague. “The consensus is that after the terrorists had evidently been found out, they must have abandoned WoW as their tool. They took the information that each of their virtual characters, avatars they’re called I believe, had disappeared, as proof of that. The fact that the Hammer of Grimstone was disbanded only added to that conviction.”

Robert and Rebecca both shook their heads. “Of course not,” Robert said. “Those guys are addicted.”

“That may be, but the current evaluation is that they abandoned WoW. It could be that our colleagues are pulling strings with Blizzard, but somehow I don’t think so.”

“How can they still hold to that position after what happened last night?”

Fitzgerald sighed. “Be realistic.” He looked both of them sternly in the eye. “If what Rebecca told us at the hospital is true, now they’re aware that their anonymity in World of Warcraft has been compromised. They’ll keep their distance. They might try another game comparable to WoW or create all new accounts, but for now they’re called off.”

This was said with so much conviction that Robert was tempted to believe it.

Broerse opened his mouth as well. “You may be the experts on computer games, but we’re the experts on terrorism after all. Trust me, when a communication channel is compromised, it’s abandoned. Rule number one. Period.”

“And what if they don’t play by the rules?” Rebecca asked.

“In that case, we have you two to tell us.” He reached beneath the table and came up with two laptop computers. On top were the familiar boxes of World of Warcraft software. “We’d like to ask you to monitor World of Warcraft for us, just in case they pop up again. The game is installed on both PCs. Will you do that?”

They exchanged a glance. Rebecca nodded. “We will,” she said.

~~~

Chapter XXXV

They
were alone in the villa, except for Nellie, a bald woman of about fifty years old who was in charge of running the household. Broerse and Fitzgerald had departed twenty minutes ago, with the assurance they could be there within an hour if necessary.

Rebecca was leaning against the wall of the study, looking out through the French windows at the spacious grounds. In the distance, two guards were patrolling a high iron fence. It was dark green, with mean spikes on top. Robert came to stand behind her and put his arms around her. He kissed her neck and let his hand trail down her spine. To his surprise, she shrugged him off.

“Let’s get started,” she said, looking at him meaningfully.

Robert didn’t feel like playing WoW at all. He didn’t understand her eagerness. “Do we have to start now?” he asked. “Can’t we wait a bit?”

She winked at him, sending an obvious sign. “No, let’s do it now.”

He finally got the message. “All right,” he gave in. They seated themselves across from each other at a conference table, the computers between them. All he could see of her was the top of her head. He logged on.

Gunslinger was in Ogrimmar. He still wasn’t used to the new look and feel of the city after Cataclysm. His screen told him that Killermage was in the city as well. As expected, he received an invitation to form a Party with her. He heard Rebecca typing furiously on her keyboard. Right after she finished, he received the message in his chat log.

“After all that happened, I prefer to talk in private,” she told him.

“What do you mean?” he responded.

“I guess this is what they call a ‘safe house’. It’s probably wired inside and out, and there must be cameras all over the place.”