The Library of Shadows (32 page)

'It was for your own good,' Clara assured Katherina, taking her hands. 'You needed to rest.'

Katherina pulled her hands away.

'But what about Jon?' she said. 'We have to find Jon.'

'We're working on that,' Iversen reassured her. 'All of Remer's residences are under surveillance. As soon as he shows up—'

'Has he disappeared?' said Katherina.

Iversen nodded and looked down at his hands, which he had clasped in front of him.

'But what about the school?' said Katherina. 'We have to go back to the school.'

'The school burned down, Katherina,' said Clara and then hurried to add, 'But there weren't any victims. The building burned to the ground only a few hours after you escaped.'

'The fire department thinks it was due to faulty electrical wiring,' Iversen interjected. 'They realized quickly that it was a lost cause, so they concentrated on keeping the fire contained to the school.'

'They're in the process of erasing their tracks,' said Katherina. She looked at Iversen and Clara. They both nodded.

'There's been another fire,' said Iversen. 'Kortmann's villa went up in flames the same night. Kortmann's body was found in the ashes of the library. They think the cause of the fire was a smouldering cigarette.'

Katherina thought back to her last visit to the villa in Hellerup. Henning had carried Kortmann's body into the library, where he had now been cremated, as if on a funeral pyre.

'But he was hanged,' she protested. 'Surely they must be able to see that. The marks on his neck, no smoke in his lungs.'

'Nothing has come out about the circumstances surrounding his death,' said Clara. 'I wouldn't be at all surprised if Remer has contacts inside the police force and is able to influence the investigation.'

'And Remer hasn't been seen since?'

'No,' replied Iversen. 'It's as if he's dropped off the face of the earth. We've rung all the phone numbers listed in the documents about him, but we keep getting the same answer: "Remer is unavailable." ' He threw out his hands. 'As I said, we're keeping his residences under surveillance. In fact, I'm due to relieve Henning in a bit. Don't worry, he's bound to turn up sooner or later.'

Katherina wrung her hands. Sooner or later wasn't good enough. Jon was being held prisoner somewhere out there because she'd left him in the lurch. Unless he agreed to cooperate, it was just a matter of time before Remer would give up and need to get rid of Jon for good. She felt anger welling up inside her. Why had they let her sleep so long? Why hadn't they done more to find Jon?

'We've done what we could,' said Iversen, as if he'd read her thoughts. 'You have to believe us. We even considered going to the police to tell them the whole story.'

'But we gave up that idea pretty quickly,' said Clara. 'It wouldn't help Jon, and Remer's contacts would probably be able to prevent anything from being done about the case.'

Katherina realized they were right. With the information they had at their disposal, they couldn't have done anything more than they had. Her anger was replaced by frustration. What could she do? She had to do something. It was too painful to sit here waiting for Remer to turn up, if he ever did decide to reappear.

'What about Pau?' she asked, sounding agitated.

Iversen shook his head. 'The bedsit where he lived is empty. No one has seen him for the past three days.' He sighed. 'And of course Pau wasn't his real name, so that lead ends in a blind alley like all the others.'

Katherina slowly stood up. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she just couldn't sit here any longer. If she had to search all of Copenhagen to find Jon, she would do it. Anything but remaining passive.

'I'm going home,' she said.

Clara was about to object, but Katherina cut her off.

'It's okay. I'm fine.'

'I'll drive you,' said Iversen, getting to his feet.

'That'd be great. Thanks,' said Katherina as she gave Clara a hug. 'Thanks for everything, Clara.'

'If there's anything I can do, just let me know.'

Katherina nodded. Accompanied by Iversen, she walked through the house and out of the front door. The grass in the little front garden had been recently mown, and it reminded her of summer even though it was mid-autumn. On the pavement at the end of the path lay a bin bag that someone had tipped over, spilling rubbish all over the flagstones. Envelopes, coffee grounds and milk cartons were all jumbled together, soiling the pavement in that impeccable residential neighbourhood.

It was possible to tell a great deal about a person from the contents of his dustbin.

Now Katherina knew who would be able to help her.

Mehmet opened his eyes wide in astonishment when he saw Katherina standing outside his garden door. She had allowed Iversen to drive her home but then went straight to the bicycle shed in the basement to get out her mountain bike and head over to Nørrebro. Something had kept her from telling Iversen about her plans, maybe because she needed to carry them out on her own.

'Well, if it isn't the Lawman's girlfriend,' declared Mehmet as he pushed open the door. He scanned the yard. 'Have you given Jon the slip?'

'You might say that,' replied Katherina, trying to smile. 'I need your help.'

Mehmet gave her a friendly smile as he studied her face inquisitively.

'Sure. Come on in.'

The living room still resembled a warehouse, with boxes against all the walls and cluttering the floor in teetering piles. Just inside the door stood a complete golf set, including bag, clubs and even a tweed sixpence cap hanging from the handle of one of the clubs. Katherina pulled out a club, weighing it in her hands.

'Do you play golf?' asked Mehmet with hope in his voice. 'I can let you have the set cheap.'

'No, I'm afraid not,' replied Katherina.

'I didn't think so,' said Mehmet. 'But that's not why you're here, is it?'

Katherina put the golf club back and shook her head. 'I need you to track down a couple of people for me.'

'No problem.' Mehmet sat down in front of his computer and interlocked his fingers at the same time as he stretched out his arms. His fingers produced an audible crack, and he smiled.

'I need to know where they are right now. You don't have to waste any time on their histories.'

Mehmet nodded.

'First of all, Otto Remer,' said Katherina, pausing as Mehmet typed the name into his computer. 'Next, a man in his mid-thirties who works as a chauffeur for William Kortmann.'

Mehmet's fingers flew over the keyboard as he repeated what she had said. Then he nodded.

'Anyone else?' he asked, looking at her.

'The last one is Jon Campelli,' said Katherina, fixing her eyes on him.

'Jon Campelli?' Mehmet repeated after several seconds. 'You want me to find Jon Campelli?'

Katherina nodded. She could feel her throat closing up at the sound of his name.

'I realize that I said I didn't want to know what you two are mixed up in,' said Mehmet sombrely. 'But what's going on? Did he run off? If he doesn't want to be found, I can't help you.'

Katherina cleared her throat. 'Jon is being held against his will,' she said. 'By the two men I just mentioned.'

Mehmet frowned but otherwise didn't move.

'Otto Remer is the head of a criminal organization that will stop at nothing,' Katherina went on. 'It's extremely important that we find Jon as quickly as possible, or else ...' She felt the tears welling up. 'Or else they're going to hurt him.'

Mehmet gave a big sigh. 'What the hell have you got yourselves into?' he said. 'I heard that Jon was fired, and now this.' He shook his head. 'Why don't you go to the police?'

'It's a long story,' said Katherina. 'And we're wasting time.'

Mehmet nodded and turned to look at the monitor in front of him.

'Okay then,' he said. 'Let's find our friend.'

The waiting was awful. Katherina had nothing to contribute other than to answer the questions that Mehmet occasionally asked. Otherwise the only sound in the room was the clacking of the keyboard. Mehmet had switched off his mobile phone after the first time it rang, and Katherina didn't want to disturb his concentration. He was her only chance.

While Mehmet worked, Katherina walked around the room, unable to sit still. She examined the assorted wares in the boxes, again amazed that anyone could make enough to live on by entering contests. Jon had told her about a Japanese TV show in which the participants were locked inside a flat and had to live off whatever they were able to win in contests, either over the Internet or from coupons. Most people had to give up from lack of food.

Now and then she slipped behind Mehmet to peek at the computer screens, but even if she'd been able to read, she was convinced that she still wouldn't have understood a thing. Numbers and symbols scrolled up the three screens at a speed that made it impossible to catch the meaning, and Mehmet's fingers danced over the keyboard.

'Okay,' he announced after searching for nearly an hour and a half. 'I know where he is, but you're not going to like it.'

Katherina went over to the table to look at the monitors. One of them showed a world map covered with lines.

'I checked the airports,' Mehmet began. 'No trace of Otto Remer, but Jon flew ...' He set the tip of his finger on Denmark. From there numerous lines reached out to destinations all over the world. 'From Kastrup airport to ...' He moved his finger south along one of the lines.

Katherina opened her eyes wide.

'That can't be right,' she said.

'Egypt?' exclaimed Jon sceptically.

Remer smiled and threw out his arms. 'The realm of the Pharaohs, the cradle of civilization.'

Jon shifted his gaze from the man in the lightweight suit to the window behind him, where flowing white curtains fluttered gently in the breeze. Even though he felt as if he'd left his geographic sense behind in Denmark, he had to admit that all the pieces did seem to fit. The heat, Remer's attire, the strange aromas. He wasn't keen on trusting Remer about anything, but all indications were that he was telling the truth.

'We left the morning after our ... meeting,' Remer explained. 'It wasn't exactly easy to arrange a medical transport on such short notice, but we managed to get space on a charter flight.' He uttered a grunt of displeasure. 'Yet another experience you should be glad you were spared.'

'But why?' Jon asked.

Remer smiled again, raising his hand in a reassuring gesture. 'I'm getting to that. Just relax.'

Since he was lying in a hospital bed with restraints after being abducted against his will, Jon had a very hard time relaxing. For him it was no more than minutes ago that he was in the basement of the Demetrius School, watching Katherina run away as he had ordered her to do. Even though at that moment Jon didn't care what might happen to himself, the whole situation was still an outrage that made him boil with fury inside. Several days had passed, he'd been flown to a foreign country and he had no idea where Katherina was, or even whether she'd managed to elude Remer's men.

'You realize I'm never going to help you, don't you?'

'As a businessman I've learned not to use the word "never",' said Remer casually. 'Even though "never" signifies something infinite, it tends to limit the imagination and any potential we may have. As a businessman I need to keep all doors open until the last possible moment, and even then I need to have a cat-flap to come back through.' He clasped his hands behind his back, unintentionally taking on the look of a professor. 'People who say "never" end up regretting it. Did you ever think that you'd give up your job to become a bookseller? Or that your father was the leader of a bunch of gullible, intellectual hippies with magical powers? No, you didn't. Right? "Never," you would have said.'

'That's a grotesque comparison.'

'Is it?' said Remer. 'You have to admit that's what has happened, all the same, and you've actually derived some benefits from it. You've become the owner of your father's fortune, and you've acquired powers that you had no idea existed. You've even found love.'

This reference to Katherina took Jon aback. He looked at Remer. Had the man made a slight nod towards the door, or was that just his imagination? His heart began to pound. If she was here, all would be lost.

Remer must have noticed Jon's reaction because he broke out in a devilish grin.

'See, you
know
you've benefited from it. So much so that you're afraid of losing what you've gained. Just imagine what the future holds for you.'

Jon glanced down at his own body. 'At the moment I'm strapped to a bed,' he stated.

'I know, I know. But that's only for your own protection.'

'Protection from what?'

'From "never".'

Remer turned and strode resolutely out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a metallic clank.

Jon stared at the closed door, but it revealed no new information. He let his eyes pass over the empty room, but even though he now knew where he was in the world, it did him no good.

Egypt. What was he doing in Egypt?

Whether it was a side effect from the sedation or whether the light really did disappear as quickly as it seemed, Jon wasn't sure. For him it felt like he'd merely blinked his eyes and it was dark outside. The only lamp was on the bedside table, but the light wasn't strong enough to reach the far corners of the room. The temperature had become more tolerable, but it was still high enough that he felt hot, though he wasn't sweating.

The door opened and the woman in the lab coat came in carrying a tray. Behind her came Remer, and following him were three men who appeared to be of Mediterranean origin.

'Looks like it's about time for you to have some solid food, Campelli,' said Remer, stopping at the foot of the bed. He nodded to the men, two of whom took up position on either side of Jon, while the third remained at the door. At yet another signal from Remer, the straps on Jon's arms were unfastened and the woman placed the tray on his lap.

Jon discovered that he was hungry, but he hesitated to eat the food. He glanced at the guards, who were standing a foot away from the bed and staring straight ahead.

'They don't speak Danish,' said Remer. 'And even if they did, they're loyal to the Order.' He nodded at the bowl of rice and meat on the tray. 'Eat up, and I'll tell you a bedtime story.'

There was no cutlery, so Jon used his hands as he started to eat. He began cautiously, aware of every mouthful, but the spicy lamb and rice tasted so unexpectedly good that before long he was shovelling the food into his mouth as fast as he could.

'The powers you possess know no national boundaries,' Remer began, nodding at the woman, who immediately left the room. 'That's something you may have surmised. Of course there are others besides you and me in the world, but a text still has a certain limitation because of language. There's no doubt that you could do quite a good job with a text in English, and maybe even Italian, but the effect will always be stronger in your native tongue. In order to charge the text, we need to know the language, and the better we know it, the better the instrument to achieve our goal.'

The woman came back with a tall stool that she placed behind Remer before leaving again. Remer sat down and straightened his jacket before he went on. 'It's a bit different for receivers. They're more able to use their abilities even if they don't understand the text being read. The emotions and images the text evokes are universal, independent of language, but the finer details of influencing still demands knowledge of the language.'

'So you've brought me here to Egypt to neutralize me?' asked Jon between mouthfuls of food.

Remer laughed. 'Certainly not,' he replied. 'First of all, those physical energy discharges of yours are not restricted by whether the listener understands the text or not.' He paused. 'Which is very interesting and without precedent. In fact, we think the phenomenon is simply connected to the reading because it provides a necessary catalyst.' He shook his head. 'But that's something we're going to find out over the course of the next few days.'

Jon snorted.

'Secondly,' Remer went on, ignoring Jon's reaction. 'Alexandria has always been a central location for our organization.'

'Alexandria?' Jon interjected. He tried to associate the name with something familiar, but the only thing he recalled was that it was a city on the north coast of Africa.

Remer nodded. 'It was here in Alexandria that our organization originated,' he explained. 'According to tradition, it was here that the powers that you and I possess were discovered for the very first time.'

Jon finished eating and pushed his plate aside. It was immediately removed by one of the guards, who then offered him a glass of water. Jon took it and drank.

Remer waited patiently for him to finish and then nodded to the guards. They fastened Jon's arms to the bed frame again and left the room without saying a word. When they were gone, Remer clapped his hands and rubbed them together with a look of anticipation on his face.

'Well, Campelli,' he said. 'Are you ready for your history lesson?'

Jon didn't feel the need to answer. He had no choice, after all.

'Alexandria was founded by Alexander the Great around 330 BC,' Remer began. 'The city was intended to be no less than the world centre of learning and scholarship. For that reason, the world's most famous library was built here – Bibliotheca Alexandrina. In addition to being a library, it was a mecca for scholarly studies and intellectual endeavours. Many of the individuals whom we today credit with founding various fields of study worked there, including Euclid, Heron and Archimedes.' Remer cleared his throat. 'The collection of parchments and codices grew, since arriving ships were required by law to leave behind a copy of all the written materials they had on board, as a sort of toll payment. It's thought that there were as many as 750,000 volumes, until a series of wars, plundering raids and fires destroyed this great treasure trove of books. But for more than seven hundred years Bibliotheca Alexandrina was the centre of the world for literature and learning.'

'But it burned down?' said Jon.

'Yes, several times,' replied Remer, lowering his eyes. 'The demise of the library extended over several hundred years, starting with the Battle of Alexandria in the year 48 BC, in which Caesar himself was involved. It had something to do with Cleopatra. The fire ravaged large sections of the library, and countless codices and scrolls were lost. Later the Roman Empire fell, and during the following centuries plundering raids completely emptied the library.'

'And it was in the library that the powers originated?'

Remer raised his index finger. 'Were discovered, not originated. The powers have most likely always existed, but it was only with Demetrius that they were investigated.'

Jon frowned. He'd heard that name recently.

'The school you broke into was named after him,' said Remer, as if he'd noticed Jon's puzzled look. 'He was also the idea man behind the original Bibliotheca Alexandrina, and in addition to being a philosopher, statesman and advisor, he was probably the first head librarian.'

Jon thought back to the meeting with the transmitters at Østerbro Library when the librarian, with a certain amount of envy, had described the influence that librarians once had enjoyed during antiquity.

'Fortunately Demetrius was also a cautious man,' Remer continued. 'He quickly realized what he was on to, and he kept his knowledge of the powers a deep secret. That was how he founded our organization. Back then it was a secret society for those who had been specially initiated, which meant those who possessed the powers and held influential positions. At that time, and for centuries afterwards, there was a virtual thicket of religious and philosophical sects in Alexandria that were more or less secret. Most learned men were members of one or more societies – it must have been the fashionable thing to do back then – and it was probably easy for Demetrius to recruit the right people.'

'Is this what you call recruiting?' asked Jon, tugging at the straps that held him captive.

'It was necessary in order to get your undivided attention,' he said. 'Most likely Demetrius didn't have to resort to such drastic measures. He was a respected man, and I'm sure that everyone he invited to join would have felt honoured, and above all loyal.' Remer's face took on a disappointed expression. 'You should feel that way too, Campelli. Not many are found worthy to join our organization.'

Jon was about to protest when Remer raised his voice to cut him off.

'But I'm convinced you'll come to see things our way. Just wait.'

There was no doubt in Jon's mind that this was meant to be a threat, not a promise, and his thoughts turned again to Katherina. Was she too in Alexandria? Why was Remer so confident of Jon's cooperation?

'With the final destruction of the library, Alexandria also lost its status as a centre of scholarship, and since it was necessary for the organization to be in the place where advances were being made, the group was split up. The members went out into the world to start up local chapters.' Remer raised one eyebrow and gave Jon a curt nod. 'Some of them went to Italy.'

Jon had been counting on hearing at some point what the connection was with himself. There was something that Remer was planning to use to win Jon over to his side.

'Are you saying that my ancestors belonged to Demetrius's sect?'

'There's a good chance they did,' Remer confirmed. 'There are no complete family trees or any surviving lists of members, but all indications are that the pockets of organized Lectors that are found around the world all stem from the original order, established here in Alexandria almost two thousand four hundred years ago.'

'What went wrong?' asked Jon. 'Why haven't you conquered the world?'

Remer grimaced. 'There are lots of reasons,' he replied. 'The decentralization that occurred weakened the organization. Factions arose that had a different agenda, and the various splinter groups wasted a lot of energy waging war on each other. There was also a long period when it was downright dangerous to be a learned person. Scholars were summarily denounced as witches or sorcerers and burned at the stake. That's why it was important to keep a low profile, which didn't make it any easier to find or recruit new members.' He got up to stretch his legs. 'It wasn't until the Renaissance that the organization began gaining ground once again, but it took years before the lost knowledge was reclaimed.'

Even though he was in the presence of his enemy, Jon felt himself drawn into the story he was hearing, but it made him even more surprised that the Bibliophile Society back home hadn't told him about his roots. Maybe they didn't know about the origin of the group; maybe they were keeping it secret until he was ready to hear the truth.

'The Renaissance was a long time ago,' said Jon. 'But again, why haven't you taken over the world by now?'

'Who says we haven't?' asked Remer with a mischievous smile. 'No, you're right. It's only in the last few decades that we've acquired the essential instrument.' He paused.

Jon raised his eyebrows. 'Are you waiting for me to guess what you mean by that?'

Remer laughed. 'Democracy. That's what we've been waiting for.'

'Democracy?' repeated Jon, surprised.

'Democracy is the best thing that's ever happened to the Order. Of course, the monarchy provided a number of opportunities too, but it was much too vulnerable. For one thing, it was difficult to get individuals placed close to the seat of power. And for another, it became dangerous for them every time the power shifted. Most often their heads rolled along with the king's. No, democracy is perfect.' Remer held up his index finger. 'It's relatively easy to get close to those in power, and it's much more effective when everyone thinks they can personally influence the decisions. In reality, they believe whatever we allow them to believe. On top of that, most of our people are able to keep their positions when governments change.'