The Library of Shadows (15 page)

Jon fixed his eyes on Clara's. The woman who had earlier appeared so jovial didn't smile, just stared across the table at him without wavering. Those sitting around them studied first her, then Jon, as if they were betting on who would blink first.

'You mean Kortmann? That's a serious accusation,' Jon said at last.

'It's a serious situation. We're being threatened, and our very lives may be at stake.'

'So far it's the transmitters who have suffered the biggest losses,' Jon pointed out. 'Lee died last night. The police say it was suicide, but Kortmann thinks otherwise.'

Clara nodded, as if she already knew about it, but many of the members began whispering and casting looks of astonishment at others in the room.

'I'm sure he does,' she said. 'Even though we didn't know Lee very well, we're sorry about what happened, but that doesn't change our suspicions. Lee wasn't old enough to have taken part in the events back then, and that alone could present a risk for those involved. Maybe he got in the way.'

'Maybe he just took his own life,' Jon insisted. 'The police found a suicide note with his signature.'

'The question isn't really whether he committed suicide or not,' said Clara. 'Though it's very likely that he did. Kortmann is not the only one who has connections to the police.' She smiled. 'The real question is, what drove him to do it?'

'He didn't seem like the type who would allow himself to be pressured into something so drastic,' Jon emphasized.

'All the more reason to be sceptical,' said Clara and then she abruptly fell silent, even though her lips had been about to shape her next words.

Jon sensed there was something he had overlooked. Clara stared at him with an expectant, almost inquisitive expression, as if she'd given him the first part of a sentence that he needed to complete himself.

'You're forgetting that the man you're accusing was the one who initiated this meeting.'

'Not at all,' replied Clara, smiling wryly. 'What would suit him better than to get someone who doesn't belong to the Society to carry out the investigation, someone who isn't aware of his powers, someone he thinks he can influence?'

Jon was about to object when Clara stopped him by raising her hand slightly.

'But I think he's miscalculated, Jon. It may well turn out that he made exactly the right decision, but for all the wrong reasons. Your demand to have Katherina participate in the investigation has convinced us that you're the right person for the job.' She smiled, this time in a friendly and accommodating way, as if exonerating him.

'Thanks for your trust,' said Jon. 'But I've never been accused of being a puppet before. I think you're mistaken about Kortmann. It seems to me that he wants to get to the bottom of this, and that he'd like to see the Bibliophile Society reunited.'

'I hope you're right,' said Clara.

'It's possible that he did campaign for a split back then,' Jon went on. 'But I sense that today he regrets it, or at least he has come to doubt it was the right solution.' He shrugged. 'Maybe he has just become more mellow over the years.'

'Which brings us back to the starting point,' said Clara. 'What's happening now is damaging to all of us, so how can we help you, Jon? What are you going to do?'

No one said a word, and Jon felt as if a blinding spotlight had been directed at him, ready to show his slightest movement. He noticed that his palms grew warm, and he suppressed an urge to shift position in his chair.

'
We
are going to start by studying the individual incidents,' Katherina broke in. 'It's important to find out for sure whether what's been happening was planned or just coincidence. If there's a connection, we have to ask: who might gain by doing this? And in that case, what would they get out of it?'

Jon nodded, sending her a grateful smile.

'I agree completely,' he said and then paused. 'I'm convinced that there's a connection between the events of today and what happened twenty years ago. That fact alone – a gap of twenty years – limits who might be involved.'

After the meeting Jon drove Katherina to her flat in the Nordvest district. They said very little during the drive. Jon was going over the meeting in his mind, but he had a hard time coming to any conclusion. In reality he ought to have been insulted to be called Kortmann's lapdog, yet he felt they did support him, even though he had come to Kortmann's defence. He sensed that the receivers expected even more from him than the transmitters did. They had hopes for what he might do – at the same time they had secrets they wouldn't voluntarily disclose, which he was going to have to dig up on his own.

'This is it,' said Katherina, pointing to a dull yellow building with green aluminium balconies. The exhaust from the traffic had turned the yellow brick almost grey in patches. Holes in the asphalt and the broken pavement bore witness to years of poor maintenance.

Katherina opened the car door but hesitated before getting out.

'I'm going to visit Iversen tomorrow,' she said. 'Would you like to come along?'

Jon nodded, prompting a warm smile to appear on her face.

'See you,' she said, putting her hand on top of his and giving it a squeeze. 'You did good today.'

She got out and closed the door behind her.

If time hadn't been on Katherina's side that day, they would have arrived too late to save Iversen.

It wasn't often that Katherina felt that time was particularly kind to her. She had often pondered what her life would have been like if circumstances had delayed her enough that certain events never took place or had turned out differently. If she'd been a little faster getting dressed on that morning when she went out with her parents in the car, or if she had insisted on changing clothes one more time, the accident never would have happened. The truck would have passed them by, either before or after that hill where her father was overtaking the tractor in front of them, and it would have left them uninjured and unaware of the family's alternative fate.

On those occasions when chance and timing coincided to her advantage, she didn't always recognize it as such. Yet she had given a lot of thought to what might have happened if she hadn't gone past Libri di Luca at just the right moment on that day when Luca was reading aloud from
The Stranger.
Katherina was convinced that if she had walked past either before or after Luca gave the reading, she never would have met Luca or Iversen or the receivers, and as a freelance she might have even gone insane or taken her own life.

That was why, afterwards, she appreciated the fact that Jon picked her up when he did, and not ten minutes later.

They met at the bookshop, where the glazier had just finished installing the new windows. After having so little daylight inside the shop, everything seemed transformed when the afternoon sun found its way through the new panes of glass. Columns of illuminated dust motes fell across the floor, and the letters of the shop's sign cast sharply delineated shadows on the exposed floorboards.

It was mid-afternoon, and Jon told her he'd decided to take a couple of days off, which had not been well received at the office. Even though the lawyers were entitled to do so, it was apparently frowned upon if they took time off in lieu of overtime pay. Extra hours were not regarded as time they could actually draw on; rather they were considered a status symbol, useful only for bragging rights or to substantiate their martyrdom.

Katherina listened in silence to Jon's description of the law office environment as they drove out to the State University Hospital. He talked non-stop until they reached the hospital, but he seemed to sink back in his seat the moment he turned off the engine and stopped his complaints. He looked as if he'd just awakened from a dream and needed time to figure out where he was before he could continue. They sat in the car for a moment, staring through the windscreen at the grey hospital building, before Katherina got out and Jon followed.

'He's been moved to a private room,' explained the nurse behind the counter.

'Is he all right?' asked Katherina in alarm.

'Yes, yes,' the nurse assured them. 'He's fine. We just thought it was better for him to have his own room, considering his condition. He's had quite a shock, but he's getting better, especially after that young man brought some books for him.' She smiled.

'Pau?' asked Katherina.

'I didn't get his name. He was here yesterday, a young man, he was bald, and wearing those baggy trousers that seem to be in style these days.'

Katherina nodded.

'You'll find Svend Iversen in room five-twelve,' the nurse said, pointing down the hall to her left. 'He's alone now.'

They thanked her and walked down the corridor she'd indicated.

'How thoughtful of him,' said Jon in a low voice.

'Yes, it's not like Pau,' replied Katherina.

They stopped at the door to room 5-12, and Jon knocked. There was no response, so Jon knocked again, this time louder. Katherina thought she heard a rhythmic banging from inside the room, like two pieces of metal being slammed together.

'Iversen?' said Jon, pushing open the door. 'It's us, Katherina and ...'

From the doorway they both had a full view of the small private room, which had space enough for only the hospital bed and a couple of visitors' chairs. The curtains were open and light was streaming in through the window and onto the white bedclothes, almost blinding them.

Iversen was sitting in the bed, his back erect and his right hand gripping the bed rail, which was rattling frantically because his whole body was shaking so violently. He was foaming at the mouth, and a disturbing hissing sound was escaping from his lips as saliva sprayed out with each spasmodic breath. Even scarier were his eyes, which were open wide and staring down at the duvet in front of him without seeing a thing.

'Iversen!' shouted Katherina and ran over to the bed, followed by Jon.

When they got closer, they could see that a book lay open in Iversen's lap. His left hand was holding the volume, gripping it tightly in spite of all the shaking. Jon reached for the book, but Iversen had such a grip on it that he couldn't wrest it from him. His body shook even harder, and Jon had to let go. He promptly grabbed the pillow from behind Iversen's back and pressed it down over the book, hiding the pages from the man's wild eyes.

As if Jon had turned a switch, the shaking stopped and Iversen's eyelids slowly closed as his old body sank back against the bed. His breathing was still fast and irregular, but the awful wheezing sound was gone.

'Go get the nurse,' said Jon as he removed the pillow and tore the book out of Iversen's hand.

Katherina dashed out into the hall and headed for the nurses' station, which suddenly seemed very far away.

'Help!' she cried loudly as she ran. She was quickly out of breath from running and shouting at the same time, but she didn't stop, even when the nurse came into view. She shouted again, motioning to the woman.

'Iversen,' she gasped, pointing back towards the room. 'He's had ... he's had an attack.'

The nurse started running while Katherina stayed where she was, bending over and supporting herself against the wall to catch her breath. The blood was roaring in her ears as she gasped for air and her fingers began to tingle. Slowly she straightened up and stared in both directions. Patients were peering inquisitively from the doorways, some in wheelchairs, others wearing robes or hospital gowns. A doctor came running past her with a stethoscope bouncing round his neck.

Katherina clung to the railing along the wall as she walked back. With each step she looked around, studying the faces of the people who had begun to crowd into the hall. Everyone wore expressions of surprise and concern. Some whispered to each other as she passed, but no one was behaving suspiciously or tried to slip away.

Back at Iversen's room, they had hooked him up to an ECG, and the sound of his heartbeat cut through the room like a knife. The doctor was bending over the patient while the nurse adjusted the dials on the machine. Jon stood a few steps away from the bed, studying the scene with a worried look. In his hands was the book that Iversen had held on his lap.

Slowly the patient's heartbeat began to slow, and the doctor straightened up so that Katherina could see Iversen lying in bed. His face was white and his eyes were closed. His right hand was still holding the bed rail, but as she watched, it released its grip and dropped onto the bed.

'He's okay now,' said the doctor with relief.

Katherina went to stand next to Jon with her hands pressed to her cheeks. He put his arm round her shoulder and gave her a brief hug. It felt nice, and she leaned against him.

'I've given him a sedative,' explained the doctor, casting a quick glance in their direction and then looking back at his patient. 'He'll sleep for the next five hours. But he seems to be stable now.'

'What happened?' asked Jon.

'It was probably a panic attack,' said the doctor, sounding as if he believed it. 'It happens sometimes with patients who have gone through a traumatic experience. They relive the event, which can provoke a panic attack like this. It can be dangerous for a man his age.' The doctor nodded at them. 'It was lucky you were here, otherwise it might have ended with a heart attack.'

'And there's nothing else that might have provoked it?'

The doctor shook his head. 'That's very unlikely. The patient suffered no serious physical injuries in the fire, he has no lesions or any sign of a concussion, so I would rule out any other causes.'

Jon and Katherina exchanged glances.

'Can we stay with him?' Katherina asked the nurse.

'If you like. But as the doctor told you, he won't wake up for at least five hours.'

'We'll stay.'

Jon went to buy provisions while Katherina stayed at Iversen's bedside. She listened to his breathing. It was calm and regular. His face wore a peaceful expression, a sharp contrast to the wild grimace that had frightened her so badly only a short time ago. Of the two of them, Iversen was undoubtedly the one who felt most comfortable being there. Katherina didn't like hospitals, especially hospitals where they couldn't feel safe from attacks by receivers. She couldn't think of any other explanation – a receiver had to be involved, and Jon's expression had told her he'd come to the same conclusion.

It couldn't be a very nice way to die.

The image of Iversen's face, contorted with pain and fear, kept returning over and over again to her mind, and she regretted sending Jon off while she remained here alone.

The feeling of guilt resurfaced. She thought she was over it, but Luca's death and now this incident with Iversen had summoned up unpleasant memories. It was something that had happened so long ago, and for years she had kept the memory at bay, but it was like trying to cover rust with paint – sooner or later it would break through. She discovered that she was sitting there rubbing her chin, the spot where the scar had formed a small cleft.

The door opened, and Jon cautiously tiptoed inside with a plastic bag in his hand.

'How are things going?' he whispered.

'No change,' replied Katherina in a normal tone of voice. 'He's completely out of it.'

Jon set the bag on the bedside table.

'Newspapers, sweets, toothbrushes,' he said. 'We can borrow a bed tonight.' He took off his jacket, hung it on a hook behind the door and sat down in a chair on the other side of the bed.

Neither of them said anything, but Katherina was glad that she was no longer alone.

'Did you see anyone?' asked Jon after a long period of silence. 'I mean, out in the hall, immediately afterwards?'

Katherina shook her head. 'No one I recognized. That's the difficult thing about these powers – you can't see them just by looking at people. It's not like they walk around with a smoking gun behind their backs.'

'What's the range?'

'It varies, depending on the strength of a person's powers. A normal receiver, if you can say such a thing, would have to be in one of the adjacent rooms or on the floor directly above or below.'

'What about someone with your abilities?'

'A little further. Another floor, maybe two.'

'But it's not necessary to see the person?'

'No, but walls reduce the effect.'

Jon nodded once and then kept on, as if lost in his own train of thought.

'So my father's killer could have been standing outside Libri di Luca?' he said at last.

'In principle, yes,' replied Katherina. 'But it wouldn't be easy to sneak up on your father, so I assume the perpetrator was inside the shop in order to achieve maximum impact.' She sighed. 'But Iversen isn't nearly as strong as Luca was.'

'Yet he must represent some sort of threat,' said Jon.

'Or a risk,' said Katherina hesitantly. 'Luca was very focused whenever he read, and it was impossible to pick up any impressions from him, other than what the text conjured up. It was as if he could close out everything else the moment he started reading. Iversen is different. He can be quite unfocused, like most readers, which makes it possible for us to catch glimpses of what he has on his mind.'

'So he's not good at keeping a secret?'

'Consciously he is,' Katherina emphasized. 'But in the presence of a receiver he could give himself away inadvertently.'

'And someone was afraid he had information that we shouldn't find out about?'

'That would at least explain why they went after him, even in his condition.' Katherina studied the man lying in the bed between them. The colour had returned to his face. Only the bandages covering the cuts and burns he'd received in the fire bore witness to the fact he wasn't well. 'The question is whether even he realizes what it is that we're not supposed to know.'

It would take seven hours before they were able to get an answer to that question. Katherina and Jon took turns sitting next to the bed while the other one slept in the room next door. Iversen woke during Katherina's watch, and while the nurse checked his vital signs, she tiptoed out to wake Jon.

The patient seemed remarkably lively and in good spirits, which convinced the nurse that it would be all right for him to have visitors. He was even hungry, so the nurse ordered a couple of sandwiches, which he promptly started to eat.

'I feel as if I've just run a marathon,' he said in between bites. 'My body is completely drained.'

'Do you remember anything?' asked Katherina.

Iversen shook his head as he finished chewing.

'The last thing I remember is starting to read Mann.' He nodded towards the bedside table and the book Jon had taken from him. 'I think I'll wait a while before I try that one again,' he added, winking at Katherina.

'Pau brought it for you?' asked Jon.

'Yes, I rang him and asked him to come over with some reading material.' He laughed. 'Isn't it ironic? Every day you collect all sorts of books that you have the best intention of reading when you can find the time – and when you finally do have a chance, this happens.' He shook his head before he took another bite of the sandwich.

'I sure miss pizza,' he said after finishing his meal. The tray in front of him was covered with crumpled food wrapping. 'A good pepperoni with extra mushrooms.' He sighed. 'All right, so tell me what you've been doing.'

Katherina and Jon took turns telling him about what had happened since the fire – about visiting Kortmann, the meeting at the library in Østerbro, Lee's apparent suicide and the meeting with the receivers. During the whole report Iversen listened attentively with a solemn expression on his face. When they were done, he sat there for a moment, shaking his head.