The Library of Shadows (17 page)

They turned around. On the ceiling, just over the door to the garden, was a camera the size of a box of kitchen matches.

'I need to look out for myself, if the police aren't going to do it,' Mehmet explained with a touch of bitterness in his voice.

'Okay,' said Jon. 'But erase the tape of the last couple of hours, all right?'

'Tape?' Mehmet burst out laughing. 'You're a dinosaur, Jon.'

'I know, I know. Just erase it, okay? We've got to go.'

Mehmet shook hands with them.

'And thanks for your help,' Katherina added.

'No prob,' replied Mehmet, opening the door for them.

Jon was extremely happy with the visit. For the first time since he'd agreed to handle the investigation, he had the feeling they'd taken a step forward. He could sense that Tom Nørreskov had played a role in the whole thing, and they'd been lucky enough to track him down in spite of his attempts to hide. But Jon also suspected that this breakthrough was going to be short-lived.

They had to follow up on the lead while it was fresh, and that meant a trip to southern Sjælland. They decided that Jon would pick up Katherina the next morning around ten. They both agreed not to take anyone else along. Pau wouldn't be any use; on the contrary, his attitude might ruin the whole trip, and besides, someone had to watch the shop.

This probably wasn't the most convenient moment for Jon to neglect his career, but the sooner he resolved this matter, the faster he could get back to focusing one hundred per cent of his attention on his work.

Jenny sounded worried when he rang in to check for news.

'I don't think they're very happy that you're spending so much time out of the office,' she whispered. 'There are rumours they want to take you off the Remer case.'

'Nonsense,' said Jon. 'As long as Remer doesn't answer my queries, I can't do anything anyway. Halbech knows him. He knows how difficult Remer can be.'

'Maybe. But promise me you won't take any more time off after this.'

'No reason to be nervous on my behalf.'

'Take care of yourself, Jon,' said Jenny and rang off before Jon could reply.

Maybe he was mistaken about Halbech's patience, but there would be plenty of time to make amends – there was nothing like unpaid overtime to smooth things out with his boss.

In a strange way, the meeting with Tom Nørreskov, Klausen, or whatever he wanted to call himself, seemed far more urgent, as if the trip to Vordingborg were a race. Although Jon didn't know whether there was a prize, or whether he even wanted to win.

'How about if I come along and keep an eye on you?' asked Pau.

Katherina shook her head. 'Someone has to keep the bookshop open.'

An hour earlier she had got hold of a sleepy Pau on his mobile. He answered in monosyllables and with unhappy grunts, but after she told him about their visit to the hospital, his tone changed. When she explained they were going to visit a freelance, he finally allowed himself to be persuaded, and a short time later he showed up at Libri di Luca with rumpled hair and wrinkled clothes.

'But he might be dangerous,' Pau insisted.

'It's not even certain that he has anything to do with this,' she replied. 'Besides, I never said it was a man, did I?'

Pau shrugged and muttered something unintelligible.

Katherina took out her key ring and removed the key to the shop. 'You can close up at five if there aren't any customers. Here's the key to the front door.'

'I have a key,' replied Pau, sticking his hands in his pockets. 'I'll take care of things, don't worry.'

At that moment Jon's Mercedes pulled up at the kerb outside the shop. Katherina grabbed her jacket and bag and headed for the door.

'Have fun working,' she called, giving Pau a wry smile.

'Very funny,' he said, raising his hand. 'Now get out of here.'

Katherina went over to the car. Jon had climbed out and was standing there looking at the cloudless blue sky above the buildings. His nostrils flared and contracted in time with the deep breaths he was taking, as if he wanted to savour the city air one last time before their trip out to the country. It was the first time Katherina had seen him wearing something other than a suit. Instead, he had on jeans and a heavy woollen sweater. He looked good.

'How long will it take to get there?' Katherina asked after a slightly awkward hug.

'An hour, maybe an hour and a half,' replied Jon as he started the car. 'I don't think there's anything but tracks through the fields where his farm is located, so we'll probably have to take a roundabout route.'

Katherina waved to Pau, who was watching them from the new windows of Libri di Luca. He didn't wave back but instead turned round and disappeared further into the shop so she couldn't see him. The Mercedes pulled into the street, and they slipped into the flow of traffic.

Neither of them said anything until they got out of the city. Without the shadows from the buildings, the sharp autumn sun made them both squint.

'Do you think he's the one?' asked Katherina.

'It's possible, though I don't really see what his motive would be, twenty years after he was banished.' Jon paused. 'Unless Mr Nørreskov has gone insane from being alone. Maybe one day he just snapped, and he turned his anger towards the event that started his whole downward slide – his banishment.'

'But why did he stop, back then?'

'It could be that he was satisfied with splitting up the Society,' Jon suggested. 'It was Luca's project and an effective way to hurt him.'

Katherina thought about Pau's warning. He'd probably only meant it as a joke or as a means of getting out of being a bookseller for the day, but if Tom had gone crazy out on his farm, so isolated from other people, it suddenly didn't seem so implausible that he might react violently to being disturbed. If he really was the one, then he'd already committed murder.

'But this time merely hurting Luca apparently wasn't enough,' Jon went on, sounding bitter. 'This time Luca had to die.'

'Could it have been an accident? Maybe he just wanted to give Luca a scare, but he didn't stop in time.'

'You could answer that better than me. Are receivers capable of killing by accident?'

Katherina stared out of the windscreen at the road ahead. The sunlight made the surface gleam, giving it a raw, metallic sheen. All the guilt resurfaced and she felt her throat close up. The seatbelt seemed to tighten and the interior of the car suddenly felt very cramped. This time she couldn't disappear or evade the issue as she had been lucky enough to do many times before.

'Are receivers capable of that?' Jon repeated.

'Yes,' she replied reluctantly. 'I've killed someone myself.' She noticed that Jon gave her a sidelong glance, but she kept her eyes on the road and resisted the temptation to rub the scar on her chin.

'It was my Danish teacher,' she began. 'My favourite teacher. Her name was Grethe. I don't remember how old she was. You don't pay much attention to things like that when you're a kid – that's when adults have only two ages: grown-up and old. I was twelve. My problems with reading had begun to show up for real and I was often sent to the remedial class, separated from my classmates. But not on that particular day.' She paused, shifting in her seat to find a more comfortable position.

'As usual, everyone was begging Grethe to read us a story. I was one of the most eager because I loved hearing stories read aloud. It made me forget my own reading problems. When Grethe read to us, we were all equal. That day she had brought a new book to school.
The Brothers Lionheart
by Astrid Lindgren. One of the other girls had brought a cake – you know the kind that's coloured bright green and covered with a thick layer of brown frosting that gets stuck in your throat? It took time to cut the cake into equalsized pieces and hand them out to everyone in class. When we all had a piece, Grethe took her glasses out of a worn leather bag and put them on, pushing them into place on the bridge of her nose. As soon as she put on her glasses we were all as quiet as mice. She started reading. We'd already heard her read the Emil books and
The Children of Noisy Village
and other stories by Lindgren, but we weren't at all prepared for the sad beginning of
The Brothers Lionheart.
I was instantly gripped by the story. From the very first page I was so enthralled that I even forgot to eat my cake.'

Katherina fell silent. Jon turned his head to look at her for a moment as his way of urging her to go on.

'Grethe was incredibly good at reading aloud. Since then I've often wondered whether she had the powers, or whether it was just a natural gift. Whenever she read, we would be instantly hypnotized by her voice and cadence. As I sat there in class, I had the feeling that this book was something special and I didn't want the reading ever to stop. I wanted to hear the story all the way to the end, without any unnecessary breaks or disturbances. The book had such a beautiful voice, gentle and patient like a loving grandmother. Without knowing what I was doing, I clung to Grethe's presentation of the story, almost pulling her through it. The strong feelings that the brothers shared in the beginning hit me so hard that I must have unconsciously reinforced them and sent them back to Grethe.'

Katherina clasped her hands in her lap.

'The bell rang, but I didn't want the story to stop there and I refused to let Grethe go; I forced her to keep reading. The other kids in class started looking at each other in bewilderment. They'd never experienced anything like this before, but everybody was happy that the story was continuing because we'd reached the section where Jonathan is reunited with his brother. But Grethe had started to shake. You couldn't hear it in her voice, but her hands were trembling, and there was a hint of fear in her eyes behind her glasses. I didn't notice much, because I was so happy. I wanted to hear the whole story, know everything that happened, so I greedily forced Grethe to go on.' Katherina sighed heavily. 'It was only when one of the girls in the class started screaming that I realized something was wrong. Blood was running out of Grethe's nose and ears, pouring down over her lips and chin and neck. The spell was instantly broken. I was terrified and covered my mouth with both hands so I wouldn't scream. Grethe's voice stopped. Her body collapsed and toppled over onto the floor, making her glasses fly across the linoleum. Everybody else jumped up to help her. Some kids ran for help while one of the boys, whose father was a fireman, put Grethe in a first-aid position. But I stayed in my seat. I couldn't take my eyes off the body on the floor. Grethe's eyes were staring blankly at the linoleum and I didn't doubt even for a second that she was dead. I knew I had killed her.'

Katherina looked out of the side window, away from Jon.

'You didn't know what you were doing,' he said. 'How could you know?'

The feeling of guilt was back, full force. Hadn't she known? The incident in the classroom had taken place after she had first met Luca, who had warned her at the very beginning not to focus her powers too intensely. And even though she'd been totally immersed in the story, she had still picked up tiny danger signals, such as the fact that Grethe's body was shaking and the nervousness of the other kids. Yet in spite of everything, she had kept on going until it was too late.

'They said she had a cerebral haemorrhage. In biology class they showed us how something like that can happen. They went over the model of the brain and explained how blood pressure, veins and blood flow are all connected.'

'You didn't tell anyone about this?'

Katherina shook her head. 'Not until much later. Then I told Luca and Iversen and a couple of others in the Society. They were the only ones who would be able to understand.'

'What about your parents?'

'I'd already subjected them to enough, with my dyslexia and the voices I claimed to hear.'

Jon turned off the motorway and they began a lengthy drive along country roads through villages and woods and over hills. After a while, as they were driving past green fields, Jon slowed down. He pulled out a piece of paper from between the seats.

'There's supposed to be a turn-off on the left somewhere around here,' he said, leaning forward to peer out of the windscreen. A few hundred metres further along, he stopped the car. On the left a muddy, rutted track led across the field and disappeared into a grove of trees. Next to the track was a sign with the number 59 on it.

They looked at each other.

'Ready?' asked Jon.

'Ready.'

Jon turned the wheel and slowly drove along the rutted track. Even at that slow pace they were tossed about in their seats.

After twenty metres a sign appeared at the side of the road.

'"No trespassing",' Jon read.

Ten metres further on there was another sign.

' "Private property" and "Trespassers will be reported to the police",' Jon quoted. 'Not especially hospitable, is he?'

'He knows we're coming,' said Katherina calmly.

'What do you mean? Have you seen him?'

'No, but he can hear us.'

'Are you sure? We can't even see the farm yet.'

'The signs,' Katherina said. 'They're not just there to keep people away.'

Jon gave her a look of surprise.

'They act as a warning system,' she explained. 'He "heard" you read them.'

Jon stared at her for a couple of seconds in disbelief, until he realized what she meant.

'Now I get it.' He looked embarrassed. 'Sorry.'

'That's okay,' said Katherina. 'Such brief texts can't tell him anything about us except that we're on the way.'

They followed the track through the small grove of trees. More signs stood along the road. Others were fastened to tree trunks, and even though Katherina sensed that Jon tried not to read them, she still received their text: 'No admittance', 'Guard dogs', 'Private property'.

After a hundred metres they arrived in a big clearing, and there stood a white-painted farm building with three wings and a thatched roof. In many places the paint was peeling off the walls. Big green patches of moss covered the straw on the roof. One window was covered with plywood and the rest looked as if they hadn't been washed since they were installed. The perimeter of the clearing was filled with rusty farm implements that had long since served their purpose and had been left to fall apart.

Jon drove his Mercedes into the farmyard where grass and weeds had taken over most of the area from the gravel. A grey Volvo estate car was parked next to one wing of the building.

'That must be the main building,' said Jon, pointing to the one behind the Volvo. He parked in front of the estate car, and they got out.

After the echo from the closing doors had faded, the place was utterly quiet. Katherina savoured the silence as she looked around. The house they had decided was the main building was about a hundred square metres with windows a metre and a half off the ground. She couldn't see in, either because of the thick layer of dirt on the panes or because something was covering them on the inside. The two other wings were in worse shape. On one, half the roof had caved in; the other lacked both windows and doors.

Jon went over to the front entrance. A big sign with a lot of text was fastened to the heavy oak door.

'Don't read it,' Katherina warned. 'It's too long – it'll just make things easy for him.'

Jon nodded and looked the other way as he fumbled with the door knocker. The pounding sound echoed over the farm. Jon leaned close to the door to listen. Nothing happened. He glanced at Katherina and shook his head. He knocked again, this time a little harder.

Katherina went over to one of the windows and tried to peer inside, but a dark cloth prevented her from looking into the room. She tried the other windows facing the yard, but they were all covered with curtains, furniture or plywood.

'Hello! Anybody home?' shouted Jon at the door.

Katherina thought she saw a shadow in one of the empty windows in the building with the collapsed roof. She slowly strolled towards what must have once been the stable. Again she saw a shadow, this time behind a windowpane that was so filthy it was impossible to tell what or who the shape was.

'Jon,' she called in a low voice as she kept walking towards the stable.

Jon stepped away from the front door and went over to her.

'Yes?'

She pointed at the stable without speaking.

The door was in the middle, facing the yard. It had once been blue but dry rot and wear and tear had turned it almost completely grey and it hung wearily from its hinges. Katherina gave it a shove. With a long-drawn-out screech the door reluctantly opened.