think it’s our duty to report what we’ve found. Even if it all means nothing, I think I’ll feel better for having reported it.”
***
“I still feel a bit uncomfortable about this,” Andy said as they approached the police station. “There’s an Arab looking guy living opposite your room who’s playing an online computer game. People spam all kinds of idiocy in computer games. That doesn’t make them terrorists, you know!”
Last night, Robert had told his friend at length about what was bothering him. He had taken him step by step through everything he had seen and learned. Andy had been hesitant about believing that a terrorist might live right under his friend’s nose. He also admitted there were a lot of coincidences and, above all, that the decision wasn’t theirs to make, so he volunteered to go to the police with Robert.
This morning, he had made an appointment by telephone. He had explained shortly that they possibly had some information about the recent terrorist attack. At that, he was asked to come to the station in an hour. Even though they were right on time, they were told to wait by a rather grumpy receptionist.
After twenty minutes, they were approached by a female officer with broad shoulders and short hair. They followed her to a small chamber, where they were asked to sit on cheap plastic chairs. This time, they only had to wait a few minutes. A woman in civilian clothes entered the room and reached out her hand to them. Robert’s eyes were drawn to her nails that were painted the brightest color red he had ever seen. She was followed by an older man, who was wearing Nike Airs under his jeans and navy sports jacket.
“You’re English?” inquired the female officer, who had introduced herself as Astrid van der Bosch. “And you’re here to translate, is that right?” She nodded in the direction of Andy, who was wearing a remarkably presentable pullover for the occasion. She seemed to be insulted by the arrangement.
“Not exactly,” Robert interceded before Andy could respond. “Of course I realize that you speak English well. It’s just that I’ve been here for a short time, and I’m still unfamiliar with many things. So I asked Andy to help me.”
“Hm,” she said, somewhat mollified. “Maybe that’s a good idea. So who’s going to give me the information?”
Her colleague leaned back in his plastic chair, studying them. Robert hadn’t quite caught his name when the introductions were made. He was older than Astrid van der Bosch, maybe in his late fifties, early sixties. The man was looking at him with unblinking blue eyes, which made him feel a bit uncomfortable. He quickly looked back at Andy, who was just embarking on his narrative. He explained about Robert being an exchange student, how he’d met with his neighbour called Khalid, and how several things he’d observed had come together with what they had learned about the attack through the media.
They let him talk for more than five minutes. Only once did the female officer interrupt, to let him repeat and clarify something. Robert couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he got the feeling that Andy wasn’t impressing them. When Andy had finished, it remained silent for a few seconds. She scrawled something in her notebook.
Suddenly she looked at Robert and addressed him in English. “Do you play World of Warcraft yourself? I mean, do you know the game?”
“No,” he answered truthfully, taken aback by the direct question. “Nevertheless, I don’t need to play the game to be able to recognize suspicious coincidences.”
“My son plays World of Warcraft. In fact, he’s addicted to it. I have no choice but to take an interest in what he’s doing at the computer for so many hours each day.” She stopped there, looking at them one at a time. They simply looked back at her, not knowing what to say.
She shook her head. “If I took everything that he’s doing and saying