The Library of Shadows (33 page)

'They're civil servants?' Jon asked.

Remer nodded. 'Among other things. Remember that we only need to be in the vicinity when those we want to influence are reading. They surround themselves with secretaries, assistants and legal consultants. Even messengers, cafeteria staff and cleaning personnel can be used.'

'So that explains why we can't tell the difference between the various governments,' Jon remarked dryly.

'We're not interested in politics,' said Remer. 'Make no mistake about that. We're just trying to create the optimal conditions for our organization in as many places in the world as possible.'

'You still haven't told me why we're in Alexandria,' Jon pointed out. 'If the organization has spread all over the globe and there's no longer just one centre, then why here?'

'It's true that the original Bibliotheca Alexandrina no longer exists,' said Remer. 'But we've built a new one.'

'We?' asked Jon in surprise.

Remer smiled secretively. 'The Egyptian government, in cooperation with UNESCO, has built a sumptuous new library on the very same site – or at least close to the site – where the original Bibliotheca Alexandrina once stood. It opened in 2002 after twelve or thirteen years of effort, and at a cost of nearly 400 million dollars. An enormous project that has put Alexandria back on the map for information science. The stated goal behind the re-establishment of the library is to restore the region to its previous glory days as the focal point for knowledge and scholarship.'

'And what's your role in the creation of the new library?'

'Let's just say that we've nudged the process a bit,' replied Remer with a smile. 'Ensured that the necessary permits went through, inspired the right people and made sure that our people are among the employees. The sort of minor details that allow us access to the library whenever we like.'

Jon pondered how many other similar projects the Shadow Organization might be behind. The Black Diamond library in Copenhagen? The central library in New York? He pictured monuments going up all over the world like radio towers to disseminate the message of the organization. Even worse was the fact he knew that the goal of the Shadow Organization was not to construct buildings around the world. That was only an administrative manoeuvre along the lines of establishing local offices.

'The Egyptian government, you said? And UNESCO?'

'Trivial matters.'

'So what do you need me for?' asked Jon, raising his arms as high as the straps allowed.

'As you know, you have extraordinary powers,' Remer began. 'Even aside from the physical phenomena, you're much stronger than any Lector we've ever measured. We think that the combination of your powers and this place should be able to take us to the next level.'

'What's the next level?'

'Initially up to your level,' replied Remer. 'After that ... who knows?'

Jon didn't want to betray his ignorance, but he couldn't quite follow Remer's train of thought. Iversen had told him that all Lectors had their limitations, a certain potential that couldn't be exceeded no matter how intensive the training. Remer was apparently of a different opinion.

'The time is right,' Remer went on. 'More and more countries are choosing the democratic model, and we've never been in a better position. UNESCO and the Egyptian government are small fry. Do the EU, NATO, G8 and the UN say anything to you? Not to mention the FBI, CIA, NSA and most of the other intelligence agencies around the world? Within the next year there are going to be five parliamentary elections in Europe, countless numbers of votes and an endless series of EU meetings, governmental conferences and top symposia.'

'And your people will be sitting at the table?'

'Either at the table or behind those seated there.' Remer pointed at Jon. 'You should feel honoured. They're all here in Alexandria to meet you. You're the one who's going to give them the last push upwards so they can carry out their missions with the greatest possible effect.'

Jon had grown dizzy from what Remer was saying. He felt sick and closed his eyes.

'So what do you say, Campelli?' said Remer, raising his voice. 'Will you join us and have your wildest ambitions fulfilled, or do you want to be a slave for the rest of your life, and know it?'

Jon looked down at the straps holding his arms. He didn't know what was in store for him if he said no, but he couldn't possibly join forces with Remer. He had no intention of helping this man, who had probably murdered his parents and might be holding Katherina captive. He clenched his fists and shifted his gaze to Remer.

'I'll never help you,' he said, putting extra emphasis on the word 'never'.

Remer looked at the floor in disappointment.

'I'm genuinely sorry to hear that, Campelli,' he said. 'But I suppose I didn't really expect any other answer from you.' He got up and went over to open the door. 'Come on in,' he called.

Jon's heart began pounding hard. He'd give anything to see Katherina again, just not right now. If she came through the door, everything would have been in vain. He knew that Remer could make him do anything if they used Katherina as blackmail.

Jon heard footsteps outside the door. He held his breath.

In came a short, thin man wearing sandals, a light-coloured jogging suit and a pair of classic round steel-rimmed spectacles. He was bald and sunburnt, which made him look like a sporty version of Gandhi. He was carrying a small aluminium suitcase.

'Jon Campelli,' the man exclaimed in a voice that was surprisingly deep for his body type. 'I'm pleased to meet you at last, sir.' From behind his spectacles a pair of blue eyes fixed a piercing gaze on Jon.

'Forgive me for not shaking hands,' said Jon. There was something disquieting about the short man, but Jon was so relieved Katherina wasn't there that he regained some of his self-confidence.

'That's all right,' replied the man, placing the suitcase on the foot of the bed. He opened it and took out an object that he handed to Remer. 'I think we might as well start with this.'

Remer went over to the head of the bed and showed Jon a roll of grey duct tape. He tore off a piece and pressed it over Jon's mouth. Jon gave him a hostile glare, but Remer didn't react.

'You'd better leave us now,' the man said to Remer, who obeyed, closing the door behind him.

From his position in the bed, Jon couldn't see what was in the suitcase, but he was prepared for the worst type of torture instruments he could imagine. In a strange way he felt relieved. The pain of seeing Katherina subjected to something similar seemed to him far worse than having to experience it himself.

But when he saw what was taken out of the case, he was seized with panic.

The short man with the steel-rimmed spectacles slowly reached both hands into the suitcase and pulled out an object with the greatest of care.

It was a book.

When Katherina first heard about where Jon had gone, she was relieved. It meant he was still alive. But the next moment she felt terribly despondent. The distance between her and Jon was pictured on Mehmet's screen as a long, curving arc from Denmark to Egypt, and it seemed insurmountable. She had no idea how she was going to get there or how she would be able to find him in a country of that size. In despair, she simply fell apart standing there next to Mehmet.

He took it well. He led her gently over to the sofa and then sat down beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. At no time did he ask about the reason for Jon's trip or why she had reacted the way she did. He just let her cry.

When Katherina finally regained her composure, she thanked him over and over, promising to tell him the whole story some day. Mehmet responded by offering his help, no matter what she might need. Katherina was sure that before long she would have to take him up on his offer.

There were probably plenty of questions that she should have asked Mehmet, but she could no longer remain idle. She had already slept away almost two whole days, and all she wanted to do now was drive straight to the airport and catch the first flight to Egypt. But when she said goodbye to Mehmet and climbed onto her bicycle, she thought better of it, and rode instead over to Libri di Luca as fast as she could.

Henning was standing behind the counter. That surprised her until she remembered that Iversen had said he was supposed to relieve Henning and take over the surveillance at Remer's place of residence.

'Everybody can stop looking for him,' said Katherina as she entered the bookshop. 'I know where he is.'

Henning looked at her in astonishment.

'Katherina ... Aren't you supposed to be ...' He pointed to the windows. 'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' Katherina lied. She didn't have the patience for questions about either her health or her state of mind. 'You can call the others back. Jon isn't in Denmark at all. He's in Egypt.'

Henning's expression was now both annoyed and concerned. He was about to open his mouth, but Katherina was way ahead of him.

'I don't know why. The only thing I know is that they flew him there twenty-four hours ago.'

Henning nodded and wisely didn't say a word until he'd gathered his wits enough to pick up the phone to ring Iversen. Several phone calls later, the message to withdraw had reached everyone involved.

In the meantime, Katherina had found a big atlas, which she placed on the counter, leafing through the pages until she came to North Africa. Her eyes flitted over the map, over the rivers, cities and the wide open areas of desert. As a child she had often paged through atlases, occasionally imagining herself to be a god looking down on her handiwork. If she squinted hard, she could even see the people moving around down there. Right now she wished she could reach down into the sands of Egypt and pick Jon up with her fingertips to bring him home.

Iversen was among the first to arrive, and Katherina told him how she'd found out the information about where Jon had gone. He nodded pensively as he studied the map lying on the counter. The names of countries and cities washed over Katherina as he read, and she tried to cling to the flow of names to find just one that she could link to something meaningful. She focused on Iversen's reading so that he'd be able to scan the map faster, but in her eagerness she pushed him too hard. He calmly placed his hand on hers, asking her to back off. She nodded, apologized and immediately stopped trying to influence him.

'What do they want?' asked Iversen rhetorically, sticking his fingers under his glasses to massage his eyelids. 'Why Egypt?'

'It could be a diversionary manoeuvre,' Henning suggested without sounding convinced. 'If they wanted to keep Jon's whereabouts secret, they wouldn't have used his real passport, would they?'

'Maybe there wasn't time for anything else,' said Iversen.

Katherina stood with her arms crossed. She was having trouble remaining calm.

'Why can't we just go there?' she asked impatiently. 'They're already a day ahead of us.'

'Egypt is a big country,' said Iversen. 'We need to have a better idea where he is. They may have gone somewhere else from there.'

'Not on the same passport,' said Katherina. 'Mehmet checked.'

Iversen nodded.

More of the other Lectors turned up, including Clara, who shamefacedly avoided looking at Katherina, who reciprocated in kind. Katherina still couldn't forgive Clara for letting her sleep so long. Iversen filled in everyone on the situation as Katherina retreated to the background. Before long a lively discussion had started up around the counter, with one theory replacing another, each more outlandish than the last. She didn't understand why they had to waste time on speculation. Of course Iversen was right. Egypt was a big country if you were looking for just one person, but she would feel much better if she was actually there instead of talking about what they should do once they'd arrived.

Katherina went over to the window and looked out. She touched her hand to her chin. It was late afternoon, and dark clouds had gathered over the city, threatening rain at any moment. The wind had picked up, and people were leaning into the gale as they tried to hold onto their overcoats. A figure approached the bookshop and came to a halt at the window, right in front of Katherina. It was a man with a big beard and dishevelled hair sticking out in every direction in the wind. Instead of studying the books on display, he fixed his clear blue eyes on Katherina.

She practically shouted with surprise when she recognized Tom Nørreskov. He hadn't bothered to change his clothes since they'd met at his farm in Vordingborg. He broke into a wide grin.

Katherina ran over to the door and tore it open, making the bells leap on their cords. The other people in the shop turned round to stare, their mouths agape, as Katherina pulled the visitor inside.

Clara took a step closer.

'Tom?' she asked, with doubt in her voice.

Nørreskov nodded and with some embarrassment looked about at the group.

'This is Tom Nørreskov,' said Katherina.

Iversen came forward to take Tom's hand in both of his.

'Welcome, Tom. It's good to see you.'

Nørreskov merely nodded and continued glancing around, as if this were the first time he'd set foot in Libri di Luca. His gaze moved along the shelves up to the balcony and then slid over all the volumes and stacks of books on the main floor. A wide smile slowly spread over his face.

'It's been a long time, Iversen,' he said. 'But the place looks just the same, thank God.'

Everyone present forgot all about the map of North Africa and began saying hello to Nørreskov as if he were an old schoolmate. His eyes flitted from one Lector to the next; there were many he'd never met before, but he studied each of them attentively, as if he were searching for someone.

'Where's Campelli's boy?' he asked at last, reaching into his inside pocket. 'I have a postcard from his father.'

No one said a word, and a strained mood settled over the group.

'It's taken a long time to get here,' he went on. 'More than a month, but it's a long way from Egypt.'

Katherina gave a start and then grabbed the postcard out of Tom's hand.

'Egypt?' she cried, staring at the card.

The picture on the front was dominated by a large, circular building made of sandstone. The sloping roof consisted of glass sections that gleamed like metal in the strong sunlight. It looked most like a flying saucer that had made an emergency landing in the desert sand. With shaking hands Katherina turned the card over.

Never in her life had she felt so frustrated at not being able to read as when she looked at the meaningless symbols on the back of that postcard. Reluctantly she passed it on to Iversen. He grabbed the card and read what it said aloud.

'They are here – Luca.'

For the second time that day Katherina felt a great sense of relief. The card pointed out the city and maybe even the building where Jon was being held. The printed text indicated that the building on the front was the Bibliotheca Alexandrina in the port city of Alexandria.

Iversen's reaction was to put his hands to his head and declare, 'Of course!' He broke out in relieved laughter. 'How could I have missed it?'

Tom Nørreskov looked perplexed as he stared at the others, surprised by the effect of the postcard.

'So where's Jon?' he asked again.

No one spoke.

'Here,' said Iversen at last, holding up the postcard in front of Tom. 'You brought us the answer.'

While Iversen talked to the astonished Tom, filling him in on the events of the past weeks, the postcard was passed around among the others present. Each person studied it intently, as if it were a puzzle picture that concealed more secrets.

When Katherina had the chance to examine the card again, she stared at the picture, imprinting in her mind every detail of the round building and its surroundings. In front of the library was a half-moon-shaped basin, a natural counterpart to the gigantic glass surfaces that made up the slanting roof of the building. The metallic-looking light boxes under the glass served to let only indirect light into the reading rooms below; at the same time they gave the glass surface a futuristic appearance, so that the whole disc resembled a silicon electronic circuit. A notch had been cut into the right side of the circle, creating a rectangular courtyard into which a spherical building was partially sunk. In the notch of the main building was the entrance.

That was where she had to go.

'Bibliotheca Alexandrina,' said Iversen behind her. 'Probably the world's most famous library in antiquity, now rebuilt in the spirit of the original – for the purposes of collecting knowledge and making it available to all.' He sighed. 'We have to hope that it won't suffer the same fate as the original library. Invaluable texts were lost during all the wars, plundering raids and fires. It's said that the building plans for the Cheops pyramid were stored in the library. Just imagine. Who knows how many other important works we've lost because of the voracity of the fires and the stupidity of people. Works that would change our conception of history, culture and science.' He fell silent, out of respect for the cremated books.

'But why have they gone there?' asked Katherina.

'We can only make a guess,' replied Iversen. 'Maybe it's some sort of ritual. The library may be a gathering place for the Shadow Organization.'

'I think it's because of the charge,' said Nørreskov.

Everyone in the bookshop turned towards him, which made him look down at his hands.

'Luca had a theory,' he began in a low voice. Everybody moved closer, crowding around him and listening attentively. 'In his opinion, it wasn't just the force of the book used during activation that was decisive. He thought that the charge that existed in the books surrounding the participants could also prompt the activation, by their very presence. So an activation conducted in the company of the Campelli collection, which we all know is strongly charged, would be much more effective than an activation carried out in a farmer's field, for example.'

Iversen nodded. 'That's common knowledge,' he said, though he didn't sound convinced.

'So the collection in the Alexandria library would enhance the activation?' asked Clara.

'There's one problem with that,' said Iversen. 'From what I've heard, the library is still in the acquisition phase. And since the original conception of the project, the development of electronic media has progressed so rapidly that many works are now on CDROM or DVD instead of in printed editions.' He threw out his hands. 'And we know that these types of media can't be charged like real books.'

'Correct,' Tom admitted. 'But we both suspected that a kind of spillover effect could take place in the surrounding area, an accumulation of energy from the charged books, and maybe even from utilizing the powers.'

'That's never been proven,' said Iversen.

'But just imagine what that might mean for the Bibliotheca Alexandrina,' Tom insisted. 'I've been thinking about it ever since the postcard arrived. For more than seven hundred years, at that same location, hundreds of thousands of volumes of the highest quality were stored. We can only assume there were Lectors during antiquity, and with Alexandria being the stronghold of knowledge, there must have been Lectors there – Lectors who could take care of and strengthen the collection.'

No one said a word. Everybody seemed to be digesting the theory Tom had presented.

'I'm positive that an enormous energy source exists there,' he went on. 'And that the new library has been perfectly designed to focus that energy, like a lighthouse.'

'And the Shadow Organization wants to use the energy to activate new Lectors?' asked Katherina.

Nørreskov nodded.

'But why do they need Jon?' she asked, sounding defeated.

He looked down. 'I can't answer that question.'

'I still think it's some sort of ritual,' said Iversen. 'But under any circumstance, everything indicates that a gathering is going to take place at that site. Whether it's to drink tea or to conduct activations, that's not really important. Jon is going to be there, and we have to be there too.'

Katherina nodded eagerly. Nothing was going to keep her away.

'What we need to do is find out what exactly we're up against, or how many people are involved,' Iversen went on. 'We have to assume there will be more than just Remer and Jon present, and it's safe to bet that some people from the school here in Copenhagen will be participating too.' He turned to Katherina. 'Do you think your computer friend could find out whether any pupils from the Demetrius School are taking a trip to Alexandria?'

'I'm sure he could,' replied Katherina.

Mehmet had given her his phone number on a scrap of paper, telling her that she could ring him night or day. He probably hadn't expected to hear from her just a few hours later, but he seemed very amenable when she did ring.

'The Demetrius School, you say,' she heard on the other end of the line. Katherina could already hear the keys clacking in the background. 'Uh-oh, the place burned down,' he exclaimed a second later.