Iversen was among the first to arrive, and Katherina told him how she'd found out the information about where Jon had gone. He nodded pensively as he studied the map lying on the counter. The names of countries and cities washed over Katherina as he read, and she tried to cling to the flow of names to find just one that she could link to something meaningful. She focused on Iversen's reading so that he'd be able to scan the map faster, but in her eagerness she pushed him too hard. He calmly placed his hand on hers, asking her to back off. She nodded, apologized and immediately stopped trying to influence him.
'What do they want?' asked Iversen rhetorically, sticking his fingers under his glasses to massage his eyelids. 'Why Egypt?'
'It could be a diversionary manoeuvre,' Henning suggested without sounding convinced. 'If they wanted to keep Jon's whereabouts secret, they wouldn't have used his real passport, would they?'
'Maybe there wasn't time for anything else,' said Iversen.
Katherina stood with her arms crossed. She was having trouble remaining calm.
'Why can't we just go there?' she asked impatiently. 'They're already a day ahead of us.'
'Egypt is a big country,' said Iversen. 'We need to have a better idea where he is. They may have gone somewhere else from there.'
'Not on the same passport,' said Katherina. 'Mehmet checked.'
Iversen nodded.
More of the other Lectors turned up, including Clara, who shamefacedly avoided looking at Katherina, who reciprocated in kind. Katherina still couldn't forgive Clara for letting her sleep so long. Iversen filled in everyone on the situation as Katherina retreated to the background. Before long a lively discussion had started up around the counter, with one theory replacing another, each more outlandish than the last. She didn't understand why they had to waste time on speculation. Of course Iversen was right. Egypt was a big country if you were looking for just one person, but she would feel much better if she was actually there instead of talking about what they should do once they'd arrived.
Katherina went over to the window and looked out. She touched her hand to her chin. It was late afternoon, and dark clouds had gathered over the city, threatening rain at any moment. The wind had picked up, and people were leaning into the gale as they tried to hold onto their overcoats. A figure approached the bookshop and came to a halt at the window, right in front of Katherina. It was a man with a big beard and dishevelled hair sticking out in every direction in the wind. Instead of studying the books on display, he fixed his clear blue eyes on Katherina.
She practically shouted with surprise when she recognized Tom Nшrreskov. He hadn't bothered to change his clothes since they'd met at his farm in Vordingborg. He broke into a wide grin.
Katherina ran over to the door and tore it open, making the bells leap on their cords. The other people in the shop turned round to stare, their mouths agape, as Katherina pulled the visitor inside.
Clara took a step closer.
'Tom?' she asked, with doubt in her voice.
Nшrreskov nodded and with some embarrassment looked about at the group.
'This is Tom Nшrreskov,' said Katherina.
Iversen came forward to take Tom's hand in both of his.
'Welcome, Tom. It's good to see you.'
Nшrreskov merely nodded and continued glancing around, as if this were the first time he'd set foot in Libri di Luca. His gaze moved along the shelves up to the balcony and then slid over all the volumes and stacks of books on the main floor. A wide smile slowly spread over his face.
'It's been a long time, Iversen,' he said. 'But the place looks just the same, thank God.'
Everyone present forgot all about the map of North Africa and began saying hello to Nшrreskov as if he were an old schoolmate. His eyes flitted from one Lector to the next; there were many he'd never met before, but he studied each of them attentively, as if he were searching for someone.
'Where's Campelli's boy?' he asked at last, reaching into his inside pocket. 'I have a postcard from his father.'
No one said a word, and a strained mood settled over the group.
'It's taken a long time to get here,' he went on. 'More than a month, but it's a long way from Egypt.'
Katherina gave a start and then grabbed the postcard out of Tom's hand.
'Egypt?' she cried, staring at the card.
The picture on the front was dominated by a large, circular building made of sandstone. The sloping roof consisted of glass sections that gleamed like metal in the strong sunlight. It looked most like a flying saucer that had made an emergency landing in the desert sand. With shaking hands Katherina turned the card over.
Never in her life had she felt so frustrated at not being able to read as when she looked at the meaningless symbols on the back of that postcard. Reluctantly she passed it on to Iversen. He grabbed the card and read what it said aloud.
'They are here – Luca.'
For the second time that day Katherina felt a great sense of relief. The card pointed out the city and maybe even the building where Jon was being held. The printed text indicated that the building on the front was the Bibliotheca Alexandrina in the port city of Alexandria.
Iversen's reaction was to put his hands to his head and declare, 'Of course!' He broke out in relieved laughter. 'How could I have missed it?'
Tom Nшrreskov looked perplexed as he stared at the others, surprised by the effect of the postcard.
'So where's Jon?' he asked again.
No one spoke.
'Here,' said Iversen at last, holding up the postcard in front of Tom. 'You brought us the answer.'
While Iversen talked to the astonished Tom, filling him in on the events of the past weeks, the postcard was passed around among the others present. Each person studied it intently, as if it were a puzzle picture that concealed more secrets.
When Katherina had the chance to examine the card again, she stared at the picture, imprinting in her mind every detail of the round building and its surroundings. In front of the library was a half-moon-shaped basin, a natural counterpart to the gigantic glass surfaces that made up the slanting roof of the building. The metallic-looking light boxes under the glass served to let only indirect light into the reading rooms below; at the same time they gave the glass surface a futuristic appearance, so that the whole disc resembled a silicon electronic circuit. A notch had been cut into the right side of the circle, creating a rectangular courtyard into which a spherical building was partially sunk. In the notch of the main building was the entrance.
That was where she had to go.
'Bibliotheca Alexandrina,' said Iversen behind her. 'Probably the world's most famous library in antiquity, now rebuilt in the spirit of the original – for the purposes of collecting knowledge and making it available to all.' He sighed. 'We have to hope that it won't suffer the same fate as the original library. Invaluable texts were lost during all the wars, plundering raids and fires. It's said that the building plans for the Cheops pyramid were stored in the library. Just imagine. Who knows how many other important works we've lost because of the voracity of the fires and the stupidity of people. Works that would change our conception of history, culture and science.' He fell silent, out of respect for the cremated books.
'But why have they gone there?' asked Katherina.
'We can only make a guess,' replied Iversen. 'Maybe it's some sort of ritual. The library may be a gathering place for the Shadow Organization.'
'I think it's because of the charge,' said Nшrreskov.
Everyone in the bookshop turned towards him, which made him look down at his hands.
'Luca had a theory,' he began in a low voice. Everybody moved closer, crowding around him and listening attentively. 'In his opinion, it wasn't just the force of the book used during activation that was decisive. He thought that the charge that existed in the books surrounding the participants could also prompt the activation, by their very presence. So an activation conducted in the company of the Campelli collection, which we all know is strongly charged, would be much more effective than an activation carried out in a farmer's field, for example.'