The Library of Shadows (7 page)

In an attempt to increase his concentration, he clenched his fists and closed his eyes even tighter.

All of a sudden pictures exploded before his eyes, abstract forms and colours mixed with landscapes and scenes of fighting armies of knights, pirates and American Indians. Underwater pictures of sea monsters, divers and submarines were succeeded by desolate moonscapes and deserts, followed in turn by ice-covered plains, rolling ships' decks – all of it flickering past at breakneck speed, like a turbo-charged slide show. Rain-soaked streets paved with cobblestones were replaced by sun-baked arenas with sweating gladiators, followed in turn by buildings from which huge flames stretched up towards a brilliantly yellow full moon. The full moon then became the eye of an enormous dragon, whose trembling eyelid closed and became a school of tiny fish, which was at once swallowed by a killer whale, which was promptly harpooned by a weather-beaten sailor wearing yellow overalls.

All these impressions, along with hundreds of others that moved too fast to take in, bombarded Jon in the space of time it took for him to open his eyes wide. He jumped up, gasping for air. Unsteady on his feet, he tottered forward until he came in contact with the back of a chair. A violent nausea surged up inside him, and he was hyperventilating, his fingers tingling. Overwhelmed by dizziness, he sank to his knees and leaned forward until he was down on all fours with his eyes focused on the carpet.

After a couple of minutes of gasping for breath and even trying not to blink, Jon slowly straightened up. His face was covered with sweat; he wiped it off with the back of his hand before he cautiously got to his feet. His legs trembled slightly beneath him as he took the first steps towards the nearest bookshelf. From there he worked his way over to the door, the whole time keeping a firm grip on the shelves. The hall from the door to the stairs seemed much longer than before, and it seemed he was walking for an eternity before he reached the bottom step. He practically hauled himself up the spiral staircase, hand over hand along the banister, the steps responding with an ominous creaking under his weight.

When he reached the room above he could hear voices coming from the front of the shop. Unable to make out what they were saying, he headed in that direction, keeping one hand resting on the bookshelves. At the end of the aisle he hesitantly stepped out into the room, no longer having anything solid to hold on to, and as he did, the voices fell silent. Pau was sitting in the armchair behind the counter with his arms crossed. Katherina was sitting on top of the counter dangling her legs and Iversen was standing in front of the cash register with his back turned.

Iversen turned to face Jon and said something to him. His concerned voice followed Jon as he went over to the door and yanked it open with a violent tug.

Outside he greedily breathed in the cold evening air, but he didn't stop until he reached a street light that he could hold on to. The cold metal felt particularly reassuring.

'Jon, can you hear me?'

Iversen's voice finally reached Jon, who nodded slowly, as if in a trance.

'Are you okay?'

'Dizzy,' Jon managed to stammer.

'Come back inside,' Iversen said earnestly. 'You can sit down.'

Jon shook his head violently.

'Thanks,' Jon groaned.

'How about some water?' said Katherina, handing him a cup.

Reluctantly Jon removed one hand from the street light and reached for the cup, emptying it in one gulp.

'Thanks.'

'I'll get some more,' said Katherina, taking the cup from him and disappearing.

Iversen placed his hand on Jon's shoulder. 'What happened in there, Jon?' he asked with concern.

Jon took in a couple of deep breaths. The water and the fresh air had done their job and he was already feeling better.

'Stress,' he replied, looking at the ground. 'It's just stress.'

Iversen studied him. 'As if that makes it any better,' he said, annoyed. 'Come back inside where you can rest.'

'No,' exclaimed Jon. 'I mean, no thanks, Iversen.' He raised his head and looked into the old man's eyes. They were shining with both worry and suspicion. 'The only thing I need right now is to go home and get some sleep.'

Katherina returned with more water, and he drank half of it under the scrutiny of the two others. With a nod of thanks he handed the cup back.

'I think I left my jacket inside,' said Jon, patting his pockets.

'You're not thinking of driving in this condition, are you?' asked Iversen.

'It's okay. I'm already feeling a lot better,' replied Jon, mustering a smile. 'But if one of you wouldn't mind fetching my jacket?'

Katherina left them and a moment later returned with his jacket.

'We still have a lot to talk about,' said Iversen as Jon got into his car.

Jon nodded. 'I'll be back in a couple of days. You've given me something to think about, that's for sure.'

'Take care of yourself, Jon.'

He started the car and waved goodbye as he drove off. The dizziness was gone, but he was overcome with an exhaustion he'd never felt before. He was used to long work-days, but this fatigue seemed to have settled in all the cells of his body.

He had tossed his jacket onto the passenger seat, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed a bulge in one of the pockets. At the first red light, he pulled out what was inside the pocket.

It was a book.
Fahrenheit 451
by Ray Bradbury.

Katherina fixed her eyes on the car, watching it disappear. Iversen, who was standing next to her, did the same with a worried expression on his face. She rarely saw him look like that, but lately, on several occasions, his otherwise amiable face had been marred by deep furrows on his brow.

When they could no longer see Jon's Mercedes, they went back inside the bookshop, where Pau was waiting. He hadn't moved from his spot in the armchair, sitting there with his arms ostentatiously crossed.

'What got into that guy?' he asked as soon as Iversen had closed the door behind him.

'After everything we've told him today, it's not so strange that he would feel a little dizzy,' replied Iversen.

'Why couldn't he just stay away from here?'

'You're forgetting, Pau, that we're the ones who are the intruders here,' said Iversen, throwing out his arms. 'This shop we're in, the books all around us, even the chair you're sitting on, they all belong to him.'

'But that's a mistake,' Pau insisted. 'Luca would never betray us like that. There must be some way to get the will annulled, changed or whatever it is they do.'

'I don't think there's much chance of that happening,' said Iversen benignly. 'For one thing, there's no will to invalidate, and besides, I rejected Jon's offer to let him take over the bookshop.'

'You did what?' exclaimed Pau, jumping up from his chair. 'Are you out of your mind?'

Even Katherina gave Iversen an astonished look.

'I think that deep inside, it was what Luca wanted,' Iversen replied, without raising his voice. 'What father doesn't wish to have his life's work carried on within the family? Would Luca want the Campelli collection to fall into the hands of outsiders? I don't think so.' He paused for a moment before he added with a sigh, 'Besides, we need him.'

'If only he doesn't think we've poisoned him,' said Katherina quietly.

The other two looked at her.

Iversen nodded in agreement. 'It would be disastrous to alienate him now.'

'What if he does take over? And what if he decides to sell the whole shitload?' Pau asked.

Iversen smiled uneasily.

'He really has no choice in what will happen. The Council has already approved a reading.'

No one said a word. Pau slowly sat back down in the chair without shifting his glance from Iversen. Katherina stared in disbelief at the elderly man, but Iversen's gaze didn't waver.

A reading was a drastic measure, and she'd never heard of the Council pre-approving one. It was strictly forbidden for anyone to use his Lector powers in any way except to enhance reading experiences. That was the Society's code. Any violation of this rule was a very serious matter and would result in grave consequences for anyone who did so, although Katherina had never heard what those consequences might be. The survival of the Society depended on its members keeping its existence secret, and any misuse of powers would invariably attract attention.

But in very rare circumstances it might be necessary to use their powers for purposes other than enriching a text. This was especially true in situations when the Society, or its powers, were directly threatened with disclosure, and on these occasions the Council would approve a reading for the parties involved, who would then be made to reconsider. The process for authorizing a reading was a lengthy one. Precise plans had to be made for how things would proceed, who would be present, what the result would be and what pretext would be planted. The latter was important, because if the subject did not give a plausible explanation for why he had suddenly changed his mind regarding a particular matter, the whole thing could fail.

After the approval, the Lectors who were to carry out the reading would arrange for an opportunity to read to, or to be in the vicinity of, those individuals who were to be influenced. As a rule, this wasn't a problem. The targets were often public figures such as politicians, government officials or journalists, who all moved about without a large security force.

For the reading, a suitable text was chosen that would touch on areas associated with the sensitive topic. During the reading important passages were charged in such a way that the subject either lost all interest in the topic or rejected it completely. This required skilled and strong Lectors, but it had never failed to produce the desired result, which had secured the anonymity of the Society.

Katherina didn't know how many readings had been approved, but in the ten years she'd had contact with Luca, she knew of only one. She herself was directly involved in it, 'but only to provide reinforcement', as Luca had assured her.

The target was a local politician in Copenhagen who had seen a chance of recouping funds by cutting back on money for reading classes in the schools. His intention was to investigate thoroughly every reading class in every one of the city's schools.

One of the Society's most important tasks was to promote the reading experience and, in particular, improve reading abilities among children who had difficulties. Many of the Society's members acted as travelling reading teachers, offering scheduled tutoring at various schools for children who were in need of help. In addition to sparking in the children a real joy of reading, they often ran into kids who were spontaneously activated Lectors, and thus the lessons were a means of discovering those few who had the special abilities, and an opportunity to monitor and guide them as discreetly as possible. The fear of losing this access to potential Lectors was enough for the Council to approve a reading for the politician.

The reading was carried out on a scorching summer day at the city hall. Beforehand the Society had circulated a petition to collect signatures objecting to the shutdown of the classes. The parents of those children who took advantage of the reading classes showed up willingly at the politician's office, where the signatures were to be presented and a declaration would be read.

In addition to Katherina and Luca, three other members of the Society were part of the delegation, along with a few parents who were totally unaware of the real purpose of the visit. Luca had squeezed into a suit, which did not appeal to him in the least in that summer heat. Sweat ran down his forehead and his face had taken on a distinct red colour. Katherina was wearing a loose black dress, and she was most likely the one suffering the least among the small delegation. In spite of the heat, a young blonde secretary made them wait forty-five minutes in the reception area. In her white summer dress, she didn't seem to be bothered by the temperature.

Finally they were allowed to enter the politician's office, where the group was received by a middle-aged man with steel-grey hair wearing an equally grey suit that fit snugly around his lean body. From under a pair of bushy eyebrows that stuck up like little horns, his stern eyes stared at them. They shook hands with him as they entered, one by one, and Katherina had to lower her glance when it was her turn. The handshake he gave her was crushing, and her hand still hurt several minutes later.

The spokesman for the reading delegation briefly explained why they were there and then handed the signatures and declaration to the grey-haired man, who had taken his place behind a big, completely bare desk. With his elbows propped on the armrests of his desk chair, he regarded them through half-closed eyes. He pressed his long, gnarled fingers together to form a tent.

The declaration was delivered in written form, but it was also supposed to be read aloud. That was Luca's task. Huffing a bit he stepped forward and began his presentation. As expected, the politician immediately picked up his copy, either to follow along in the text or to conceal his lack of interest.

The first part of the declaration was a mishmash of introductory nonsense about the background of the reading classes – a sort of warm-up they could use to home in on their subject's ability and willingness to focus on what was being read.

Katherina sensed how Luca was only slightly accentuating the text, like a painter who starts his work with delicate strokes of the brush that barely touch the canvas. The text had been meticulously prepared in advance, and Luca's presentation was flawless, but it was the minor accents that elevated the experience so that it didn't just feel like a reading but more like a performance.

To enjoy it, the listener had to pay at least a modicum of attention to the words, an honour that the politician had no intention of granting.

Katherina shut her eyes and noticed how he was leafing through the declaration, stopping at random places and reading short excerpts without really comprehending what they said. A wealth of other thoughts dominated the images that the text and Luca were evoking, ranging from other meetings to family members, from rounds of golf to visits to Tivoli, to a dinner party that presumably was going to be held that very evening.

She took a deep breath and let herself drift along with the stream of images issuing from the subject's consciousness. Every time he read a word from the text, she reinforced it just a bit, stimulating his attention by holding onto it just a bit longer than the politician himself had intended. Soon the text began to occupy more of his thoughts, and he started to read longer, more cohesive excerpts, which Katherina did her best to strengthen and maintain.

For a receiver this was rather a trivial exercise. Katherina had countless times sat in trains and buses and used her talents merely to help a nearby reader focus on the text instead of everything else. Many commuters read on their way to and from work, but their concentration would often waver as they read, and Katherina frequently noticed how they would stop reading, only to turn back a few pages to read the section again. For her it was clear what had happened. She could follow along as images from the text were blocked out by all sorts of other thoughts, drowning in worries about a job, a love affair or grocery shopping. Sometimes she would intervene. If she found a good story, she would help the reader keep his focus on the text, a few times so effectively that the person in question would miss his station or bus stop. Other times, if it was a dull text or Katherina just wanted to keep the voices at bay, she would sabotage the reading until the reader became so unfocused that he or she would give up.

The politician, helped out by Luca and Katherina, suddenly became very interested in the text and started turning forward to the place that Luca had reached in his reading of the declaration. Katherina ensured that he maintained his focus – a very easy task since Luca used his accentuation efforts to do the same. She opened her eyes and saw how their subject was now sitting up straight in his chair and studying the documents he held in his hands with visible interest. Now and then he nodded to himself, almost on cue from Luca, who was turning up the emphasis on important sections of the text.

The effect of a transmitter on the listeners was not directional, and if anyone else had been in the room who previously doubted the justification for the reading classes, they too would have been convinced by the time Luca read the last word of the declaration. Katherina smiled when the politician looked up. He clearly had no idea how to react, as if he were embarrassed to say anything at all after Luca's presentation, but finally he managed to stammer a few clumsy, polite platitudes and his reassurances that he would look into the matter again.

The effect was not lost. A few days later the politician declared that the reading classes were fully warranted.

But it was one thing to influence a career politician who had no idea about Lectors or readings; it was quite another matter when the targeted subject had a suspicion about what was being done to him.

*

'Isn't it too late to read for Jon now?' asked Katherina after Iversen's statement had sunk in. 'He'll notice right away.'

'Yeah, why didn't we give him a reading right from the start?' Pau punched his fist into his open palm. 'Bam! No warning. Then we could have made him do anything we liked.'

'This is still Luca's son we're talking about,' replied Iversen. 'He's a good boy. Jon deserves our respect and should at least be given a choice. Besides, he would have found out about it anyway if he became activated. And how would it look then?'

'But what if he doesn't want to participate? What if he chooses ... wrong? What then? Are you going to force him?' asked Katherina.

'Perhaps,' replied Iversen. 'It's been done before. Not recently, but there have been examples when a reading was carried out against the listener's will. In the old days it was used to constrict members in our own ranks who opposed the Society. Not something we're proud of, and it looked like a real torture scene, using straps and gags.' He sighed. 'We just have to hope that it won't go that far.'

'That might be really cool,' exclaimed Pau, who then hastened to add, 'I don't mean with Luca's son, but with someone else, not a volunteer. Reading for ordinary people is too easy; they're like cattle that just need a little shove. But to try it on someone who offers real resistance ...'

'You're too much, Pau,' Katherina told him.

'Hey, maybe you'd like to volunteer? I could find something to read to you, maybe even something romantic?'

'I'm sure you could, but shouldn't you be doing the exercises that Iversen gave you first?'

Pau's crooked smile vanished and he muttered something unintelligible.

'All right then,' Iversen interjected. 'What do you say we close up for the evening?'

For once the other two were in agreement and quickly disappeared out of the door while Iversen made one last round before he too left Libri di Luca.

*

Katherina pumped hard on the pedals of her bike as she rode away from the antiquarian bookshop. With a shake of her head she reproached herself. She ought to know better than to let herself be provoked by Pau, but just like siblings, they both knew which buttons to push to rile the other, and a defensive response quickly turned to attack after the first words were uttered.

Her mountain bike carried her from the Vesterbro district towards Nørrebro. Nimbly she rushed along in the late evening traffic, meticulously timing her speed to the changing of the traffic lights and taking the corners largely without slowing down.