The Library of Shadows

A couple of paces further along, Jon pointed to eight or nine other volumes.

'Kierkegaard, of all things.' He went on to scan the stacks of books on the window ledge and those piled up on the nightstand.

'I suppose we could say he had a wide range of interests,' said Katherina, settingUlysses back on the shelf.

Jon nodded and went back to the computer, which in the meantime had finished booting up. He sat down and put his hand on the mouse. Katherina went to stand behind him and watched as he experimented with clicking on various buttons and menus.

'What are you doing?' she asked after a couple of minutes.

'To be perfectly honest, I don't know,' Jon admitted with a laugh. 'Computers aren't really my thing.'

Katherina giggled. There was something endearing about him as he sat there, fumbling with the unfamiliar equipment, well aware that he was out of his element. He was no longer the super-barrister but a human being with his own limitations, and he admitted as much.

At that moment his mobile phone rang. He took it out and studied the display.

'It's Kortmann,' he said, handing it to her. 'Could you talk to him while I keep working on this?'

Katherina took the mobile. 'Yes?'

'Are you inside?' she heard Kortmann ask.

'Yes, we are,' Katherina told him. 'Jon's inspecting the computer right now.'

'Did you notice anything else?'

'In the flat? No, not really.'

'What books was he reading?'

'Lots of different things,' Katherina replied. 'There are a couple of volumes of Kafka on the nightstand – that must have been the last thing he was reading.'

'Kafka?' repeated Kortmann. A few seconds of silence followed. 'Keep working on the computer. I'm going to have to leave now.'

'Okay,' said Katherina, but by then Kortmann had already rung off.

'Arghh,' exclaimed Jon in frustration. 'I can't get anything out of this.'

'Can we take the computer with us?' asked Katherina. 'Maybe someone else could help us with it.'

Jon broke out in a big smile. 'Of course. Why didn't I think of that?'

He got out his mobile again and punched in a phone number.

'It's Jon… yes, I'm fine… uh-huh, the case is coming along…' He nodded impatiently as the other person finished talking.

'Listen here, Mehmet, I need to ask you a favour.'

14

It turned out not to be necessary to move the computer. Over the phone Mehmet guided Jon through various menus and programs, allowing him to locate the computer's IP address and switch off the security routines so that Mehmet would have access to the PC from outside. After less than five minutes Jon was able to lean back in his chair and watch as the computer was taken over. On the monitor in front of him windows were opened and closed at the command of the cursor, which dashed between programs like a bee in a field of clover.

'Okay, I'm in,' said Mehmet. 'What exactly are we looking for?'

'First of all, what were the last sites he visited on the Internet?' replied Jon. 'But otherwise just whatever he was working on, in general.'

'No problem,' said Mehmet. 'How much time do I have?'

'As much as you need. The owner isn't coming back any time soon.'

'In the slammer?'

'No, he's dead.'

Mehmet didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, and the activity on the monitor abruptly stopped.

'Was he a client of yours?' he asked. The cursor started up its dance across the screen again.

'No,' replied Jon, pausing before he went on. 'This has nothing to do with my job. That's why I also need to ask you not to talk about whatever you find.'

Again a moment of silence from Mehmet.

'I hope you know what you're doing, Lawman.'

'Take it easy. You know me.'

Jon glanced at Katherina, who had found a place to sit on the window ledge, far away from the bed, which she was staring at with a remote look in her green eyes. Her face was pale, and she had wrapped her arms around her body, as if trying to stay warm. She suddenly seemed very fragile.

'Listen, Mehmet, can you also shut down the computer by remote control?' asked Jon.

Mehmet muttered a reply, which Jon interpreted as affirmative. In the background he could hear keys tapping at impressive speed, and on the screen in front of him lines of illegible commands were appearing, followed by an equal number of incomprehensible replies.

'Then shut it off when you're done. We can't stay here any longer,' said Jon, standing up. 'I'll contact you later to hear what you've found out.'

'Okay, but drop by instead of ringing. For security's sake.'

'It's a deal. See you later, Mehmet.'

'Later.'

Jon hung up and stuck the mobile in his inside pocket. 'Are you okay?'

'Sure, I'm fine. Or rather… it's just so strange to think that it happened right here and such a short time ago.'

Jon nodded and cast a glance at the bedstead. It was hard for him to see how they were supposed to find anything the police might have overlooked. There was nothing on the nightstand but a pile of books, and there was no sign of a struggle. He had the feeling that the main reason Kortmann had let them inside was to find out what was on the computer, and not to discover Lee's fate.

'Come on, let's go.'

*

Following Katherina's directions, Jon drove them to Sankt Hans Torv, where he found a parking place on one of the side streets. There was still over an hour before the meeting for receivers would start, and since neither of them had eaten, they went to an Italian restaurant on the square.

The colour in Katherina's face began to return, aided by Jon's attempts to take her mind off the flat in the Sydhavn district. He tried to talk about other things: his work, Italian food, trips abroad. They'd been given a table at the back of the restaurant where they could talk undisturbed, though for most of the meal they confined themselves to generalities. But it got more and more difficult to avoid mentioning Luca, or the bookshop, or the Society, and the awkward pauses in the conversation grew longer and longer.

Jon's thoughts were on the upcoming meeting. Luca had been a transmitter, and even though he was apparently the best of friends with everybody, his allegiance still must have been stronger to his own kind. For that reason, Jon had a feeling that he was about to enter enemy territory.

'What should I expect?' he asked, finally breaking the ice.

Katherina glanced around before she answered.

'In any case, a greater unity than among the transmitters.' She looked down at her hands. 'It can be very hard to be a receiver, especially in the beginning when you don't really know what's going on, so those of us who have been through it have a tight bond. We need each other, because no one else has any idea what it's like. Your father had some idea, and he respected us because of what we have to endure, but most other people think that the powers are just something we can switch off and on at will.'

'I'd go crazy,' said Jon.

'Many people do,' replied Katherina. 'Even more are branded as lunatics when they claim to hear voices.'

Jon nodded. He told her about his experience at the Clean Glass pub and the man who was drinking stout.

Katherina smiled.

'We know him well,' she said. 'Ole sometimes shows up at our meetings, but not very often any more. He's found his own way of keeping the voices at bay: alcohol. So we shouldn't expect to see him today.'

'Alcohol removes the voices?'

'For some people it mutes them, for others it makes the voices distorted and incomprehensible, which is even worse. We all have our own methods for keeping the voices at a tolerable level. The most skilful among us can mute them using special techniques, but those who aren't as lucky turn to other solutions. Some recite nonsense phrases or make certain repetitive motions to divert their focus, others go to extremes and resort to pain, by pinching or even cutting themselves.' She sighed. 'But the best method is to meet in a group.'