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The hand on his shoulder seemed to give him a squeeze and a brief flash of light lit up the computer screen. The images lurched, like a film that stutters.

Jon stopped reading and lowered the book.

'Excellent,' said Poul Holt, nodding to him. His eyes were filled with affirmation and admiration. 'We had to stop you at the end. It was starting to get too strong.'

Jon nodded. He could feel the effect of his exertions, but his joy at having done a good job outweighed the depletion of his energy. His whole body was filled with a pleasant buzzing sensation, not unlike what he had felt from the book, and he noticed that he had goosebumps on his arms. He laid the book aside and rubbed his arms.

'Who stopped me?' he asked, since they were the only two in the room.

'A receiver in the room next door,' replied Holt. 'You need to learn to recognize the signals from the receiver so you'll know whether you can increase the force or have to stop. This time you interpreted the signal perfectly.'

He stood up and helped Jon take off the helmet.

'How did the measuring go?' asked Jon, nodding at the computer.

'Excellent,' replied Holt with satisfaction. 'You held it just below twenty.'

'Is that good?'

Holt laughed. 'You might say that. I measure just under eight, and I'm one of the strongest in the Order.' He carefully placed the helmet on the table. 'It's impossible to know how high you could go. Maybe double that, maybe even more. In that case, we'd need to get different equipment.'

'Does that mean we're done?' asked Jon, slightly disappointed.

'Not at all,' replied Holt. 'But it's important we don't go too fast. You need to rest after each test.'

'I feel okay,' said Jon.

'That's good, but there are other preparations you need to make.'

At that moment Remer came in with a book under his arm. To his great joy, Jon recognized the book of chronicles he'd listened to the previous evening.

'Campelli,' declared Remer heartily. 'I hear the first test went well, is that right?'

'Apparently,' replied Jon, trying to tone down his pride.

'And you're feeling all right? Are we taking good care of you?'

'I feel great,' replied Jon. 'I could keep going right now, no problem. The sooner I get trained, the faster I can be of service to the Order.'

Remer smiled. 'It's important for you to rest after every session. You'll have opportunities to work with us soon enough.' He held up the book. 'In the meantime, there's more about our background you should know.'

Jon reached eagerly for the book, but Remer laughed.

'When I say rest, I mean total rest. Lie down and close your eyes, then Poul will continue from where you left off yesterday.'

Jon did as Remer requested, and he smiled with pleasure when, a few minutes later, he heard Holt's calm voice reading aloud.

The next twenty-four hours were filled with training, sleeping and listening to stories. Never before in his life had Jon experienced a more satisfying feeling. He received approval for his powers, he got better and better with every session, and he kept on discovering new sides to the Order that showed he had found his proper place. For a long time his ambitions had been allowed to hibernate; not since law school had he felt so filled with purpose. Now he knew that with the Order behind him, there were no limits to how far he could go. They could and would support him to achieve whatever goal he set for himself. His success was the Order's success.

Jon hadn't yet sorted out what he might want to do, but Remer had suggested he could establish and run a law firm with offices all over the world. The firm would chiefly have the other companies in the organization as its clients. Most of the employees would be Lectors and, according to Remer, with Jon's powers and background they wouldn't lose a single case. But Remer had pointed out that this was merely a suggestion. Jon could decide his future for himself.

'Time for a day off,' declared Remer when he turned up again. 'We're going sightseeing.'

Jon would have preferred to stay in, but it occurred to him that he hadn't yet been out of the house, even though he was in a foreign country.

The woman in the white coat came in, bringing a suit for him, and he put it on at once. It fitted perfectly. Remer escorted him out to the driveway, where Poul Holt was waiting along with a red-haired man of about thirty. He was introduced as Patrick Vedel, the receiver who had participated in the training sessions. Jon thought it was strange that he sat in another room during the sessions, but Holt had explained that it was at Vedel's own request.

The red-haired man now shook hands with Jon as he stared at him with an oddly expectant expression. He seemed to be waiting for Jon to recognize him. Jon dismissed the idea, and they all got into the Land Rover that Remer had hired and drove into Alexandria.

They drove along the beach promenade, Al-Corniche, which ran the entire length of Alexandria, twenty kilometres in all. Within that area of the east harbour hundreds of stalls stood along the coastal boulevard. Crowds of tourists and local residents were strolling along the wide pavement by the sea. A low stone wall functioned as both a bench and a bulwark facing the water. On the other side of the wall were giant boulders, acting as a defence against the waves of the Mediterranean.

The first stop was the Qaitbey Fortress on the western arm that surrounded the harbour basin. The fort looked a lot like a model made with Lego of various sizes and colours, but it stood on the site where one of the seven wonders of the world once stood, the Pharos lighthouse of Alexandria. It was said that the big reddish blocks of granite came from the ancient lighthouse, which was estimated by some to have been over 150 metres tall. It had made Alexandria into a centre of light, quite literally, just as the library had done the same from a scholarly perspective.

The next stop was a huge square where stalls had been set up to form a marketplace. Some of the stalls were simply cars that the owners had draped with their goods for sale, such as clothing. Other stalls consisted of carpets spread out on the ground and covered with a selection of jewellery, shoes and electronics. The more professional merchants had set up proper stalls made of wooden boards covered with fabric on which their wares were displayed.

In addition to clothes, electronics and antiques, great quantities of foodstuffs were also on sale. All sorts of spices were sold right out of the sacks, and fruit was piled up on tables that looked as if they might collapse under the weight. Meat and fish were on display in the sunshine, and when purchased were wrapped up in newspaper and tossed into a plastic bag. The smells from all the different foods became more and more intense. With each step new aromas joined the mix, forming a stew that became more and more exotic.

Jon walked on ahead, studying everything. He kept having to say no and make dismissive gestures when the stallholders tried to engage him in a transaction. He had moved a good distance away from the others and was beginning to enjoy this excursion. It had been a good idea to take a break from the training sessions.

Suddenly he froze.

Katherina was standing not more than five metres ahead of him. She was busy looking at antiques and hadn't yet noticed him, but just as Jon was about to move, she raised her head and looked him straight in the eye.

Apparently she was just as surprised as Jon, because her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but not a sound came out. Then she broke into a big, warm smile and stretched out her arms towards him, as if she expected a hug.

Jon took a step back. The smile vanished from Katherina's face and he could see that she was puzzled. She took a tentative step closer, now with an expression that was both dejected and enquiring. Slowly Jon backed away without taking his eyes off her. He had seen through her. The Order had opened his eyes to her deceit.