Armchair Safari (A Cybercrime Technothriller)

by Jonathan Paul Isaacs

  “So what?”

  Roger looked over at Marty. “Go back to the second slide, Marty.”

  The bar graphs reappeared. Lucy looked at the precipitous drop in the mystery players’ account balances that indicated money leaving their respective vaults. There was a two million dollar delta in one swing, then a reversal that netted out to the $1.2 million that was still missing.

  “Now the first slide,” directed Roger.

  The screen changed back to the transitional account report. Lucy easily picked out the line item that showed the large missing balance. As she scanned to the right, the box that normally showed the player id of who had taken the treasure was blank.

  “This is for the Beta servers, right?” she confirmed.

  “Yes.”

  “But it doesn’t show who is holding the money.”

  “Exactly.”

  Lucy straightened up a little. “So, the person that robbed these players went back to the production servers.”

  Roger nodded. “It appears so.”

  “So the money is still in our bank account, then.”

  “Yeah. We just can’t tell who has it,” said Marty.

  “But does a player even still have it? If the player id is null in the Beta transitional account, how is the system tracking the money for the player?”

  “We don’t know. We’ve looked in all of the data tables we could think of. We haven’t found it yet. It must be tracked in some module somewhere, because it hasn’t been put back.”

  Lucy took a deep breath. They hadn’t, in fact, lost a million dollars in cash. Not yet, anyway. Maybe they had some time.

  “All right, guys,” said Lucy finally. “Not thrilled that this happened, obviously, but it did, and it looks like we have some idea of what’s finally going on. Now the big question—what do we do with the information?”

  “We need to go to LaRue and the Feds, don’t you think?” said Roger.

  “That’s obvious. And we need to tell Derek that the money’s not gone.”

  “Okay.”

  Lucy sat quietly at the table, thinking. “Would you go back to slide two?”

  Marty advanced the deck to the bar charts. Lucy stared at the line graph with the precipitous drop in its standing balance.

  “What do you think these mega-players are doing right now, given that someone else has a lot of their money?”

  Roger glanced between Lucy, the screen, and Marty. “I know what I’d be doing. I’d be trying to hunt them down and get it back.”

  “Me too,” Marty agreed. “No one takes my stuff.”

  “Do you mean you’d hunt them down in the game? Or in real life?”

  A chill seemed to stir in the room. Roger leaned back in his chair, a grim expression on his face.

  “Maybe we should hurry with that call to the Feds,” said Marty.

  41

  The Wilderness, Armchair Safari.

  The shock had not worn off yet even three days after Megan had become Haas’s prisoner. The entire thing was almost unbelievable, to be tracked down and captured by one of the most infamous persons on the continent. Hutto hadn’t formed his reputation by simply vanquishing other players. He crushed them. Entire fortresses wiped off the map. Money and riches taken in their entirety, without a cent left for rebuilding. If a battle had been particularly tough, Hutto was known to leave detachments of soldiers behind at reincarnation points so that the new, respawned character would be immediately slaughtered every time he or she appeared. Many opponents never recovered. To be targeted by Hutto was the mark of death, with victims rushing to the nearest Imperial Bank to protect their money by the only means possible—cashing out all of their funds as fast as they could.

  There had only ever been one realistic attempt to take Hutto out. A band of adventurers dubbed the Four Apostles had joined forces, hired an army, and attacked his castle using siege engines and tunnelers to open up a gash in one of the great outer walls. Sensing victory, the army poured through the broken defenses and headed straight into a trap—a prepared killing zone where boiling oil poured down from the keep. With the majority of their army suddenly slaughtered, the Four Apostles withdrew to fight another day—only things didn’t end there. Hutto bought information that revealed the identities of his assailants and set out with an army of his own. He ruthlessly exacted his revenge on each of the Apostles and ultimately drove them all from the game for good.

  Of course, Hutto’s success and wealth had attracted the attention of a certain thief from Silverton, who managed to steal ten grand from the great lord’s castle while he was away. Little did she know that her heist came at the most inopportune time for Hutto. The great warrior had been locked in battle with the lesser known but certainly motivated Rennegar the Red, and the sudden loss in Experience Points from the theft caused Hutto to lose his fight.

  And so Haas, the first and only reincarnation of Hutto, was born. And born angry.

  And now he had taken the Portable Hole from her.

  The sun had risen above the treetops of pine and oak so that it was shining right into Megan’s eyes. So they were headed east. Why east? The Haagenan was due north, even slightly to the northwest.

  “Why are we going this way?” she asked, bored of the tedium of not knowing what lay ahead.

  The ranger ignored her. He had been ignoring her since the revelation of his identity. Megan would have been more terrified if she was not so exhausted. She dared not log off—she was riding next to Death itself. What did he have in store for her? He clearly wanted her alive, but why? All Megan knew was that he seemed to be enjoying the agony of her situation. Perhaps that was the whole point, given Hutto’s reputation for stylized punishment.

  Eventually, after days of unexplained riding, her bank account still draining by the hour, Megan had had enough of this slow, degenerating death. She tugged back on her reigns and stopped Wimberly.

  Haas rode forward for ten more yards before he turned and noticed. There was no emotion in his eyes, no curiosity; it was like being studied by a machine. Megan did her best to meet his gaze without flinching.

  “You need to keep riding.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  Megan sighed. “I’m done here. If you’re going to murder me, get on with it. I’m not riding with you any further.”

  “Why not?”

  Megan blinked in surprise. “You’re kidding, right? You’re killing me! Every day I spend with you means I’m not collecting money to eat, to pay tuition, to do anything. I’m dying, Haas. It is better for me to die once, now, than continue with this bullshit. Just... kill me now, like you did to my friends.”

  Megan closed her eyes and bowed her head. She was so tired. Tears started welling in her eyes with the flow of self-pity. All of this just needed to be over.

  “Did you ever consider that perhaps I wasn’t planning on killing you?”

  Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, Megan opened her eyes but refused to look up. Had she heard correctly? She had, but she didn’t believe it. This was some sort of mind game. “Why wouldn’t you? You’ve killed everyone else.”

  “Maybe I still need you.”

  “You have all the money. There’s no further use you could possibly have for my services.”

  The ranger rode up next to her. “Not true. Those gangsters are still following us. If they catch up, two swords are better than one.”

  Megan sniffed again. She turned her head and absently studied the glistening black fur of Haas’s horse. Thinking back to the battle in the jungle, she remembered Haas standing on the piles of treasure and shooting arrows while Boris and Kalam took the bulk of the onslaught. Now, of course, there was no Boris or Kalam. Only Megan. How could she possibly be of value in a fight like that? Surely he didn’t...

  “You want me to be a tank for you?” Megan gasped. “You want to use me as a whipping post while you stand back from the fray, safe, and pick off the enemy with your bow? Ha! N
o, no, no. I’d rather jump off a cliff just to spite you!”

  Before Megan realized it, she was shouting obscenities at him. Then panting for breath. She was crying again. This was all so terribly unfair. If she had simply kept doing what she always did—petty crime, a few break-ins—she would have avoided this whole mess. Never trust strangers, she had always told herself. Never trust strangers.

  Haas sat in his saddle and listened impassively. He seemed to study Megan as she quieted down. Finally he spoke.

  “Megan, stop being a fool. Take advantage of the fact that you’re still breathing and do what you’re told. We need to keep riding east.”

  Megan sniffed again. She kept Wimberly still. She had no intention of going anywhere.

  The ranger cleared his throat. When he spoke next, there was a hint of exasperation in his voice. “You jump to a lot of conclusions, girl. It’s incredible how much you overthink things. So let me keep it simple. There are many ways to die. Long, painful ways that last more respawns than you can count. You haven’t seen a fraction of it.

  “Now, start your horse forward again and follow me. If you don’t, not only will I indeed kill you right now, I’ll make sure your rebirths are ended before they even start. Decide.”

  Megan really didn’t want to die. But she felt so powerless, so incapable. Kidnapped in Safari, made into a slave in an online game—the idea itself was preposterous, to be forced to bend to another person’s will. She felt so small. It made her blood boil with an indiscernible swirl of emotion—anger, hate, fear, helplessness, nausea.

  Megan took a deep breath. The reality was there was nothing she could do. Not yet. She would have to wait a little bit longer and see what options presented themselves.

  Without speaking a word to the ranger, Megan tapped her heels into Wimberly’s flank and started her up into a slow trot. She thought of the Choker Chain necklace around her neck. Megan had to find a way to get it off.

  Something. There would be something that came up. There had to be.

  A few more days passed and it was obvious their pursuers were both real and gaining ground. Haas pointed them out to Megan from a rocky outcrop that poked out above the tree line. Even she could see them now. How they were closing the distance between them remained a mystery.

  “I estimate they’ll overtake us in less than two days,” Haas said gravely.

  “Good,” Megan replied. “Then I can finally take my screenshots of the Kenzen cutting us down and post them on Instagram.”

  Haas jumped down from his lookout and glared especially hard at her as he walked past. He was wearing a frown as he mounted his horse.

  Megan suppressed a smirk. Was she starting to get his goat? She had been feeding him a steady diet of sarcasm and venom since becoming a prisoner. The ranger’s expressionless veil was starting to be a little less impenetrable. There was still a human being under there.

  “You seem pretty eager to get caught,” Haas observed as he spurred his horse forward. “What if those gangsters decide to do something nasty to you—something not confined to a video game?”

  “Shut up, Haas. I’d rather take my chances with them instead of you. At least their motives are clear.”

  “Oh? And what do you think my motives are?”

  “Betrayal.”

  Haas scoffed. “Ridiculous. Betrayal is not a motivation, for one thing. Maybe an outcome of another agenda, but not a motivation.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You were our friend and you stabbed us in the back. You’re a snake.”

  “I’m just like you, Megan.”

  “What?” she replied, offended.

  “What I’m doing is no different than what you do. You break into people’s strongholds and steal their money. Real money, don’t forget. My methods are different but the goal is the same. That’s the whole point of Safari.”

  Megan shook her head. “No. When I steal, it’s on a level playing field. My opponents expect to defend themselves. What you did... what you did was wrong. You let us pull you into our confidence and then betrayed us when we needed you. You held back during the jungle fight. You’re violating our contract. It’s just inexcusable and is very different from what I do, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry you see it that way, but whatever. I still disagree. It’s not personal, it’s business.”

  “All business is personal, Haas.”

  “Given that gangsters are tailing us for interfering in their business, let’s hope you’re incorrect about that,” he said smugly. Then he pulled Maverick around and trotted off at a brisk pace.

  Megan fumed silently at the arrogance of her captor. But she had no choice except to follow.

  The ground around them turned even rockier, with scrub bushes and tall grasses that somehow thrived in the absence of normal soil. The entire world became one of sand-colored rubble. By the sun, Megan reckoned that they were continuing east, the same direction that they had headed out when they had left Bangor. Still not north. Not toward home.

  “I can’t stand this anymore. Where are we going?”

  Haas was riding about fifteen feet ahead of her. “Beaumaris,” he said without turning around.

  “Where?”

  “Beaumaris.”

  A minute went by without any further explanation. Megan scowled. “Okay, you win. What’s a Beaumaris?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Fine, asshole. Seems she would have to wait.

  Gradually the terrain turned even more treacherous. Wimberly struggled with her footing as the path turned narrow and unstable. Soon they were riding into a low canyon with narrow, winding channels and ridges of rock above their heads. Everywhere there was loose stone. The ambient light started to fail as the evening dragged on.

  “We’ll stop here tonight,” Haas announced. He quickly dismounted to survey his chosen campsite.

  Megan climbed down from her horse and pulled out her bedroll.

  The ranger waved her away from Wimberly. “Nighty-night can wait. We need a fire before it gets too dark. Go get some kindling.”

  Wonderful, now I’m his slave girl, Megan thought.

  There was some small, dry brush growing out of the cracks of various boulders and rock slabs. Megan cut several clumps loose and brought them back to the campsite. A quick bit of work and she had a burning pile of tinder in the middle of their small clearing.

  The sky was turning a deep, dark blue. Megan sat down and watched Haas pace around the perimeter.

  “If you’re worried about exposing our position, why did you tell me to make a fire?” Megan asked.

  “I’m not worried about that at this point,” he replied. “Our pursuers know where we are.”

  “Then why are you pacing?”

  No answer. Megan gave up. She pulled herself into a ball and snuggled as close as she could to the tiny fire. She missed Boris. She was hungry but dared not leave her computer to get something to eat. How miserable.

  “Habit,” Haas said.

  “What?”

  “I said, habit.” Haas had paced over close to her. “That’s why I don’t sit still. Lots of people always trying to kill me. It’s hard to stay put.”

  “I can relate to that,” Megan said absent-mindedly.

  “Are you referring to the gangsters, or me?”

  That almost sounded like a joke.

  Megan stared into the fire.

  “What will happen to us, Haas?”

  The ranger shifted his gaze to her. In the firelight, with dusk all around them, his blue eyes sparkled brilliantly. “We’ll know by tomorrow.”

  Megan felt uncomfortable at how ominous that sounded. “Why?”

  “Because at their pace, that’s when they’ll catch us,” Haas replied. He regarded her almost with resignation, then walked to the edge of the campsite to pace some more.

  Megan woke up with a start. The sky was a cold blue from the early morning light, and the sound of the breeze whistled past her.

  “Haas?” she called
out.

  There was no reply.

  She walked over to the edge of their camp and stretched some more. Where was Haas? The Choker Chain hung loosely around her neck. It hadn’t constricted, so he couldn’t be that far off.

  Grabbing her short sword, Megan started toward the far end of the rock basin in which they had spent the night. Another breeze rushed past her in a gust. How was it that she was hearing the wind blow? The depression in which the campsite was located was below ground level. Megan hiked her way into a narrow trench out of the basin where the walls on either side went straight up for thirty feet. The footing was treacherous due to the fragments of rubble everywhere.

  Megan climbed upward until she was out of the little gorge. And then she saw it.

  An ancient fortress lay several miles ahead. It was not huge, but its massive walls commanded an approach flanked on one side by a rocky cliff and on the other by shimmering blue water. The sea. That explained the continual whistle of the breeze.

  She saw Haas hiking around an outcropping ahead of her.

  “I take it this is where we’re headed?” Megan asked.

  Haas actually chuckled. “Did you figure that out all by yourself? Yes, Beaumaris is a castle. You probably would have heard of it if you had ever ventured out of the Haagenan before.”

  “Really,” she said, nonplussed. “Why, what is it famous for?”

  “For losing.” Haas seemed amused, which seemed odd given that today was the day they were going to be slaughtered by ruthless cyberpunk gangsters.

  “What does Beaumaris mean?” Megan asked.

  “‘Beautiful marshes.’ I thought you said you were in college?”

  “I am, but it’s not like I’m studying Latin.”