The Library of Shadows (26 page)

Clara looked around and threw out her hands. 'Twenty locations? There're plenty of us here to handle that. How about monitoring each place?'

'And we do have a photo of him,' Katherina added eagerly.

'And it should be possible to get a sufficient number of vehicles,' Clara interjected. 'All it takes is a little patience.'

Henning raised his hand like a polite schoolboy.

'I'm sorry to point this out,' he began, looking as if the discussion amused him. 'But none of us is exactly a private detective. I may be mistaken, of course, but I don't think that anyone here has ever tried to follow a man or a car, and if this Remer has villainous intentions, as you claim, we have to assume that he's much better at that sort of thing than a bunch of amateurs. I'm sure that he'll see right through it at once and disappear, and we won't be able to do anything about it. What we need is some other way of flushing him out of hiding.'

Clara and Iversen looked at each other. Katherina could see the resignation in their eyes as they realized Henning was right.

'Maybe I can help,' Jon offered.

Everyone fixed their eyes on Jon, who so far hadn't said a word during the entire meeting.

'Of course,' replied Clara, giving him an encouraging nod. 'But how?'

'Hmm, well, I could ring him up.'

'Remer here. Leave a message.'

Jon recognized the voice on the answering machine as his former client, and he cleared his throat before the tone insisted that he speak.

'This is Jon Campelli,' he began, and then paused briefly. 'I think we should meet. Tomorrow, three p.m., at the Clean Glass pub. Come alone, and don't bring any sort of reading material.' He hung up and studied the faces of Katherina and Iversen on the other side of the counter in Libri di Luca. Iversen nodded with approval. Jon himself was a little surprised that he'd got through to the right number. The business card that Remer had given him at their first meeting could easily have been fake.

'The Clean Glass?' Katherina frowned.

'Not many readers there,' replied Jon.

'I still think it's risky,' said Iversen. 'He'll know that something's up.'

'Maybe,' said Jon. 'But I still have something that they want.' He waved his arm to encompass the space of the bookshop.

Iversen had arranged to have the carpet replaced. The new burgundy floor covering seemed ill suited to the old, worn furniture. But soon dust and footprints would make it a natural part of the room, and all traces of the fire would be gone.

'Besides, what do we have to lose?' asked Jon.

'He hasn't hesitated to kill,' Iversen pointed out. 'Or so we believe.'

Katherina looked worried as she stood there, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. Jon nodded towards her.

'You'll be there to look out for me,' he said.

'Yes, outside,' Iversen emphasized. 'I'm not so sure we can rule out the possibility of him resorting to good old-fashioned physical violence. What's to keep him from bringing along a gun?'

Jon looked at this man who was usually so cheerful and amiable. Of course he was right, but the methods used so far by the Shadow Organization made it hard to imagine the group turning to conventional weapons. Jon fixed his eyes on the new carpet. In fact, they didn't really know. Maybe physical violence
had
been used. Jon and the others had focused solely on those situations when transmitter powers might have been involved. They had assumed that it was a gentlemanly contest, one group's powers versus another's – but why stop there?

'There will be witnesses present,' said Jon. 'I don't think Remer will try anything.'

Iversen nodded, but he still didn't seem convinced.

There were four customers in the Clean Glass pub. They were all sitting at the bar and didn't even turn round when Jon pushed open the door, letting a little fresh air slip into the tobacco haze. He ordered a draught beer and sat down at one of the tables farthest away from the bar but facing the door. In his inside pocket he had a mobile that he'd borrowed from Henning. The microphone of the attached hands-free set was fastened to the underside of his jacket collar so that Katherina and Henning would be able to hear what was going on when he rang them.

Jon took a gulp of his beer. He'd arrived in plenty of time. Remer wasn't due to show up for another ten minutes, provided that he had taken the bait. Enough time for Jon to speculate about what might happen. The most important thing was that Remer made an appearance, or rather that he drove off from the pub so the others could tail him. Jon hadn't given much thought to the actual meeting, to what he might say or whether he'd be able to control his anger at the role Remer had played in the loss of his job, and maybe even in Luca's murder.

The door opened, and a man in a light trenchcoat came in. Seeing the man's short grey hair, Jon recognized Remer at once. His former client looked around the room and fixed his gaze on Jon for a moment. Then he went over to the bar and placed his order as he cast a cool glance at the four regular customers. Jon used the opportunity to reach into his pocket and press the call button on his mobile.

The bartender set a glass of golden liquid in front of Remer. He paid for the drink, picked up the glass and calmly strolled over to the table where Jon was sitting. Jon's heart started pounding faster and he sensed his anger growing.

'Campelli,' said Remer, nodding at Jon. He turned his chair as he sat down so he would be sitting sideways to the door.

'Remer,' said Jon in greeting.

Remer studied Jon as he took a sip of his drink. He grimaced and cast a slightly offended look at the glass, which he proceeded to swirl, making small circular movements.

'Not exactly a high quality whisky they serve here,' he said, setting his glass on the table. 'I prefer single malt, not these blends.'

'Then you should try the house speciality instead,' said Jon, raising his beer and taking a drink.

Remer smiled briefly. 'I understand you're insisting on becoming a bookseller after all,' he said in a tone of voice that made it sound as if the conversation already bored him.

'You might say that I was given a shove in that direction,' replied Jon. 'But I seem to have a flair for it. My talents in that area have proven to be quite surprising.'

Remer nodded as he examined Jon intently. 'So I've heard,' he said. 'Maybe a man with that kind of talent shouldn't limit himself to a bookshop.'

Jon tried to hide his surprise as best he could. How could Remer already know that Jon had been activated and what the results had been? Was he bluffing?

A small, superior smile spread over Remer's face. 'That sort of skill could be used much better in a larger context.'

'Such as a chain of shops?' asked Jon.

'For instance, yes,' said Remer, taking just a sip of the whisky and swallowing it with lips tight. 'A man with such unique abilities could be useful in many different situations.'

'As a consultant?'

'Problem-solver.'

'He would be expensive,' said Jon.

'It's all relative. If he's worth the cost, it's not expensive. But it would require, of course, that he proved how skilful he really was.'

'A test?'

'Or a check-up,' Remer suggested. 'It just so happens that I have access to facilities that can measure this sort of thing.'

'I wasn't aware that such talents could be measured,' said Jon.

Remer smiled secretively. 'Oh, yes indeed. If someone has the will and the curiosity to achieve the best results, he has to tackle the matter scientifically. Exactly like serious athletes today. Elite sports are not for people who have romantic notions about going for a run out in nature, eating healthy food and getting a good night's sleep. It involves the optimization and total utilization of an individual's potential, and a bit more.'

'And some people are born with a greater potential than others.'

'Precisely,' said Remer firmly, jabbing his finger at the table. 'And those few have an obligation to use their full potential instead of pissing it away on amateur foolishness and trivialities.'

'Such as promoting a good reading experience?'

'Perhaps. Literature has acquired a much too romantic glow these days. Reading has become a kind of distinguished pastime for intellectuals. But it really is nothing more than a means of distributing information, or even a form of entertainment, but first and foremost the transmission of knowledge, attitudes and opinions.'

'That sounds a little cynical to me,' said Jon. 'There are plenty of people who enjoy reading.'

'There are also plenty who play sports for fun,' Remer acknowledged. 'But they'll never be anything but amateurs. If you want to be a professional, you have to have a professional attitude towards the tools in your possession.'

They both took a sip of their drinks.

'Well, Jon?' Remer began after a brief pause. 'Do you want to be an amateur or a professional?'

Jon studied the bubbles rising to the surface in his glass. He'd once heard that beer foamed more in a dirty glass than in a clean one. That didn't bode well for the reputation of this pub, but he presumed it wouldn't make much of an impression on the customers seated at the bar, the professional guests. The conversation had taken a different turn from what he was expecting. He hadn't counted on finding out that
he
was the bargaining chip and not Libri di Luca. That meant, of course, that he wasn't in any imminent danger, but that could also quickly change if he didn't join forces with Remer.

'You don't have to give me an answer now,' said Remer. 'Think it over when you can find some time alone.' His gaze shifted from Jon's face to his jacket, where the mobile was inside his pocket. 'But you should know that we have answers to many of your questions, and we're in possession of facilities that could help you to utilize your potential to the fullest. With us you'll find explanations and the opportunity to use your powers for something substantial.'

Jon nodded. 'I need to give this a little more thought,' he said.

'Of course. But don't wait too long. We can easily become impatient.' Remer gulped down the rest of his whisky and stood up. 'Shall we say three days?'

'Okay, you'll hear from me in three days.'

'Excellent. Talk to you soon, Jon.'

He didn't wait for a response but headed straight for the door and walked out of the Clean Glass without looking back.

Jon pulled up the collar of his jacket and bent his head.

'He's outside now,' he said into the microphone.

'We can see him,' said Katherina's voice on the other end. The sound of a car engine was audible in the background. 'I'll ring when we know where he's going.'

Jon rang off and set the mobile on the table in front of him. Even though it wasn't his, he felt reassured to be once again a member of the communication society. It would have been difficult to carry out their little surveillance action without mobile phones. At that moment Katherina and Henning were setting out after Remer, and they'd be able to report back to him in the pub or notify the other vehicles to take over the pursuit. So they hadn't been able to avoid playing amateur detectives, after all, much to Henning's dismay, but it was the best solution anyone had come up with at the meeting the night before. At least they weren't just waiting around for Remer to show up at twenty different places all over Denmark.

Four vehicles were participating, each with two people, one of whom was a transmitter, the other a receiver. It was a good way to break the ice, in Iversen's opinion, and besides, it might prove useful to have both sets of powers on the scene when Remer reached his destination. Jon hoped they had thought of everything, but they were still amateurs, and he was sure that Remer and his cohorts had much more experience in this line – which marked the difference between amateurs and professionals, as Remer had just mentioned. Their only advantage was that Remer might underestimate them.

Jon drank more of his beer. A month ago he would have seriously considered the type of offer that Remer had presented – being a consultant to one of the country's richest businessmen was a tempting proposition. As a promising barrister on his way up, he wouldn't have hesitated to change jobs if it would benefit his career. It was a matter of learning from the best and exploiting all available opportunities. Occasionally this meant making use of methods that some would find morally questionable. Not all barristers allowed themselves to take advantage of the errors in procedure made by their opponents, even though it might win the case or lead to a swift settlement. But Jon knew that wasn't all Remer had been asking him.

Jon grimaced. He sensed that he was no longer the same person, and at the moment he couldn't imagine he would ever be able to return to his former life.

The mobile on the table rang. Several of the customers at the bar scowled at him in annoyance and he hurried to take the call.

'It's Katherina,' he heard. 'We're in the Østerbro district, near the embassies.' For a moment her voice was drowned out by traffic noise. '... but it looks like he's getting close to where he's going, whatever that may be.'

'Okay,' said Jon. 'Do you think he noticed anything?'

'We've done our best,' replied Katherina. 'We've kept him on a long leash, and we've changed cars a couple of times.'

'Good,' said Jon. 'I'm heading back to the bookshop now. Ring me again when he stops.'

'By the way,' said Katherina before Jon hung up. 'Do you know what kind of car he drives?'

Jon told her he didn't.

'A Land Rover.'

When Jon arrived at Libri di Luca, Pau was standing outside waiting for him. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched up around his ears. As Jon approached, Pau shifted his feet uneasily.

'Hi, boss,' he said, smiling with embarrassment.

'Hi, Pau,' replied Jon in a neutral tone. Whatever it was that Pau wanted, Jon had no intention of making it easy for him.

'Closed up a little early today, didn't you?' Pau said, giving a laugh. 'What's going on? Did you invent a new holiday or something?'

'Iversen is out,' replied Jon tersely, nodding at the sign in the window that announced the shop was closed.

'When is he going to be back?' asked Pau. It was obvious he hadn't counted on seeing Jon. Iversen was driving around after Remer somewhere in the city, and Jon couldn't answer Pau's question even if he'd wanted to.

'What can I do for you?' asked Jon bluntly.

Pau blinked and nodded towards the door. 'Could we go inside?'

Jon nodded and unlocked the door to the antiquarian bookshop, letting Pau lead the way. He followed and closed the door behind them, without turning over the 'Open' sign.

'Does Kortmann know you're here?'

Pau shook his head. 'He's a psychopath. The only thing he can talk about is how the receivers have ruined everything. Luring everybody over to their side and stuff like that.'

'It was my understanding you shared that opinion,' said Jon, trying to make eye contact with Pau.

'I still don't believe in that Shadow Organization story. But Kortmann is too extreme. He treats us like his private army, that he can order around any way he likes.'

'What about the others?'

'I guess they're going along with it, but I think they're staying mostly because they don't want to make Kortmann mad. Not so much because they believe him.'