The Library of Shadows

16

Jon could see from Katherina's reaction that this was news to her too. She sat up straight and leaned forward in her chair in order to hear better.

'Who?' asked Jon and Katherina at the same time.

'Strange that I didn't think of this before,' said Iversen, with a slight shake of his head. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. 'Tom,' he said, opening his eyes again. 'His name was Tom. Nшrregеrd or Nшrrebo, or something like that. Tom was a receiver, quite a good one, but a bit of a loner, as far as I remember.' Iversen nodded towards Katherina. 'It was before your time. In fact, it must have been around…' He opened his eyes wide and looked at Jon. 'I think it was more than twenty years ago. While your mother was still alive, I'm sure about that.'

'What happened?' asked Jon. 'Why was he thrown out?'

'It had something to do with a woman,' said Iversen, shaking his head. 'Sorry, but my memory isn't what it used to be, and it happened a long time ago. As far as I remember, he misused his powers as a receiver to get in bed with a woman. According to rumour, there was more than one, but in any case he got caught and was thrown out of the Society. He was a close friend of Luca's, and Luca was actually the person who exposed Tom and who assumed the heavy responsibility of banishing him.'

'Banishing? That sounds a little harsh,' said Katherina.

Iversen shrugged. 'It was a matter of repeated offences, and in a group like ours it's essential that we trust each other.'

'But wasn't it more dangerous to have him running around loose?' asked Jon. 'What if he gave himself away? What if he revealed his powers, or even put an end to the Bibliophile Society?'

'Luca thought it was best,' replied Iversen. 'And back then no one ever questioned his word. At that time Luca was the head of the Society, and apparently he succeeded in persuading Tom that he was in the wrong. Partly because no one but your father trusted him, and also because, according to Luca, Tom was so embarrassed by how he'd behaved that he could no longer look us in the eye. We never saw him again.'

'It doesn't sound as though he was particularly vindictive,' Katherina pointed out.

'No, that was my impression too,' said Iversen. 'Luca, who was the last person to speak to him, didn't say that Tom was especially angry or bitter, but the timing seems almost too coincidental.'

'So what would he want today?' asked Jon. 'He may have felt disappointed back then, but what about now? Why would he suddenly stop the attacks, only to start them up again twenty years later?'

They looked at each other, but none of them had an answer.

'Nшrreskov,' Iversen exclaimed so suddenly that Katherina gave a start. 'His name was Tom Nшrreskov.'

'We'll have to see if we can locate him,' said Jon. 'There can't be many guys in Denmark with that name.'

'It's even possible you might recognize him when you see him,' said Iversen. 'He spent a lot of time at Libri di Luca when you were still living with your parents.' He turned to look at Katherina. 'He was gone long before you came into the picture. What surprises me is why Clara didn't say anything about him. She must remember what happened.'

'I've never heard any mention of people being banished,' said Katherina. 'Maybe it's just one of those things that people don't talk about, like the family's black sheep.'

Iversen nodded. He suddenly looked tired as he sat there in bed with his arms crossed on his stomach and his head resting on the pillow. Jon sat up straight.

'Maybe we should let you get some sleep, Iversen.'

He tried to protest but Katherina agreed with Jon and they both stood up.

'We'll be right next door,' said Jon, pointing to the wall.

'Absolutely not,' retorted Iversen. 'Get out of here, both of you. You've got more important things to do than keep watch over a tired old man.' He raised his hand as if swearing an oath. 'I promise not to open a book until you get back.'

Jon knew that even though it was late, Mehmet was most likely still up, and it wasn't far from the State University Hospital on Blegdamsvej to his flat on Stengade. Besides, three hours of sleep and Iversen's new information had left Jon wide awake, so it wasn't difficult to decide to pay a visit.

Mehmet was still up, just as Jon had thought. Wearing headphones and almost motionless, he was sitting in the pale light from his computer screens while the rest of the room was in darkness. Jon and Katherina had to knock hard on the windowpane before he reacted. When Mehmet finally turned to look at the terrace door, he did so reluctantly, as if his eyes had to be forced to follow the movement of his head. When he saw Jon outside, his face lit up with a smile, and he took off the headphones as he got up from his chair.

'Hi, boss,' Mehmet said in greeting after pushing open the door. Only then did he catch sight of Katherina standing behind Jon in the dark. 'And you must be…?'

'Katherina,' said Jon quickly. 'A friend of mine.'

Mehmet's gaze shifted from Katherina to Jon and then to his watch.

'Right,' he said, stepping aside. 'Come on in.'

'You're working late,' remarked Jon when they entered the room. Mehmet had turned on more lights so they could navigate between the teetering stacks of prizes.

'I don't have a slave job in some office that's open from nine to five,' replied Mehmet as he moved a couple of boxes off the sofa so they could sit down. 'My domain is the whole world and all time zones, so I schedule my work hours accordingly.'

'So it's a twenty-four-hour slave job?'

'Something like that,' admitted Mehmet, with a brief laugh. 'What about you, Katherina? How do you pass the time?'

'Books,' replied Katherina, adding: 'I work in a bookshop.'

'Really?' exclaimed Mehmet, his gaze flying over the boxes in the room. 'I just happen to have-'

'We're not here to buy anything,' said Jon, holding up his hands. 'Katherina works in my father's antiquarian bookshop, which I've now inherited.'

Mehmet gave Jon a searching look. 'I didn't really think you wanted to buy romance novels at three in the morning. You're here about the nerd's PC, right?'

Jon nodded.

Mehmet looked from one to the other of them. 'Was he a close friend of yours?'

'No,' replied Katherina and Jon in unison.

'I only met him once,' Jon went on. 'He was just an acquaintance.'

'Okay,' said Mehmet, relieved. 'Actually, it's wrong to call him a nerd. There's nothing wrong with nerds. At least they have a passion for something, whether it's stamps or aeroplanes or computers – and that's cool. Your… acquaintance, Lee, was a nerd-wannabe. A guy who may have worked with computers, but didn't have the abilities or the stamina to be a real nerd, though he did try to hang out with them by using the right buzzwords and references.' He cleared his throat. 'Lots of people think that nerds are losers, but the real losers are the wannabes, the pretenders, who think they can cheat their way to respect – very uncool.'

'But he had an IT job,' said Jon. 'He couldn't have been completely hopeless.'

'Well, you don't have to be a nerd to get an IT job,' Mehmet pointed out. 'Far from it. Wannabes can be smart enough at their jobs. Nerds are more difficult to control. They want to do their own thing, and they have a hard time taking directions about how to do their work.'

For a long time Jon had thought a nerd was merely someone who spent all his time at a computer – someone who was scruffy and ate pizza and drank Coke and had problems with the opposite sex. For him there was no measure of quality, other than that a nerd could do more than start up a word processing program. It was only lately that 'nerd' had increasingly replaced terms like 'eccentric' or 'fanatic' to express the fascination and mania that infected even stamp collectors. In that sense, Luca and the customers who came to Libri di Luca could be called 'book nerds', though they would undoubtedly prefer 'bibliophiles'.

Meeting Mehmet had expanded the boundaries of what Jon associated with nerds. Mehmet was well groomed and socially adept. He had a large circle of friends who were interested in things besides computers. More overtly, he was the son of Turkish parents, which meant that he looked significantly more healthy than the nerd stereotype, usually a pale, pimply teenager wearing glasses.

'I don't think of myself as a nerd,' said Mehmet, as if Jon had been thinking out loud. 'But I don't try to present myself as one either.' He went back to his desk to get a stack of printouts. 'Lee, on the other hand, did. He subscribed to various "nerdy" blogs on the Internet, and it's obvious he was trying to hustle himself a chance to get down with the cool guys. The answers and the pieces he wrote are banal and show that he didn't really get the terms he threw around.'

'What sort of blogs did he participate in?' asked Jon.

'Mostly computer-related,' replied Mehmet, scanning a piece of paper he was holding. 'Databases, networks, OOP and other programming areas. Plus some bizarre offshoots like brain research, literature and antique books.' He glanced up at Katherina. 'Is that anything you can use?'

'Maybe,' replied Katherina with a shrug.

'He wasn't especially active in the last three groups I mentioned. It was like he just lurked and read the blogs without taking part in the debate himself.' He waved the papers. 'I'll give you the list so you can see what you can work out for yourselves.'

'Okay,' said Jon. 'Is there anything else you can tell us?'

'I looked at what he was doing on the Net lately,' replied Mehmet. 'It follows the same trend as the blogs. He looked at a lot of web pages with computer-related subjects, a number of libraries and literature pages. He also visited various porn sites and a few travel agencies.'

'Travel agencies?' Katherina said.

'Yes, he was looking at trips to Iraq and Egypt, but he didn't buy any tickets.' Mehmet stood up and handed them the stack of papers. 'But that's all in here too.'

Jon took the pages and leafed through a few of them.

'So that's your man,' Mehmet concluded. 'A slightly pathetic loner wannabe without many friends or social skills. Probably in his mid-twenties with a steady but not particularly demanding job in the IT field. Plus a couple of interesting deviations from the profile, which lean towards a romantic fascination with literature and exotic travel destinations.'

'Impressive,' said Katherina.

Mehmet shrugged. 'Do you know the saying: Show me your rubbish bin and I'll tell you who you are? The same can be said about a PC – but it's really much easier. The way we move around when we're surfing the Net says a lot about us, and the tracks are easy to follow if you know where to start.' Mehmet was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed and a satisfied smile on his lips.

'There's something else we'd like your help with,' said Jon, his eyes still fixed on the papers. 'We're looking for a man by the name of Tom Nшrreskov. Can you find us his address?'

'If you can spell his name,' said Mehmet with a grin.

While Mehmet went to work behind his three flat-screens, Jon started going through the printouts from Lee's computer. Katherina sat next to him on the sofa and glanced around the room while he read. He sensed that she was receiving, but he wasn't worried. On the contrary, he found it reassuring, certain that she would pick up on anything he happened to miss. And at the same time, she could sense what information he thought was relevant even if he didn't say so out loud. The idea that she might be able to perceive more than he cared to reveal did cross his mind a couple of times, but he dismissed the thought, realizing that even if she did, it didn't really bother him.

Every once in a while Mehmet poked his head out between the monitors and asked them questions about Tom's age, job, education, known hangouts, and they made the best guess they could.

'Bingo!' exclaimed Mehmet after half an hour when the only sounds coming from him had been the clacking of the keyboard and a few outbursts that were impossible to comprehend. 'What do you want to know?'

Both Katherina and Jon got up and went over to the desk where Mehmet was leaning back in his chair, looking at the three screens with satisfaction.

'First of all, where does he live?' Jon asked.

'Vordingborg,' replied Mehmet. 'On a farm outside of town, as far as I can tell from the map. Twenty years ago he lived in Copenhagen, just as you thought, specifically in the suburb of Valby, but he moved to southern Sjжlland fifteen years ago after getting divorced.'

'Divorced?' Katherina repeated.

'Yes, sixteen years ago. But then he does something strange,' said Mehmet, pausing for dramatic effect. 'First he gives up custody of his children, and then he changes his name to Klausen – that's why it took so long for me to find him. Only then did he move to Vordingborg, where he's lived ever since, according to the national register.'

'So he's a farmer?' asked Jon.

'I don't really think so,' said Mehmet. 'He's made enquiries with the local authorities about the leasing of land, so my guess is that he has rented out his fields. Plus there's a T. Klausen employed by the local rag as a freelance book reviewer.'

Jon nodded. 'That must be him.'

Katherina agreed. 'Is there anything else?' she asked.

'He doesn't have a phone and doesn't pay for a TV licence… What the hell does anyone do out in the sticks without a phone or a TV or a woman?'

'Read books?' Jon suggested.

'Ha! Yeah, well, I guess that's the only thing left.' He gave Jon a searching glance. 'Books again, huh?'

Jon didn't answer. 'Can anyone tell you've been searching for him?'

'If they swipe my computer, they can. Or if there's someone in Vordingborg Municipality who's in charge of watching for exactly that type of search and also has a contact with my Internet service provider.' Mehmet threw out his hands. 'I don't know what you're mixed up in, and I don't want to know either, but it would be very strange if those kinds of forces are in play just because of a bookworm.'

'Even so, make sure you remove any traces you can.'

'No sweat. You know me. I'm caution itself.' Mehmet nodded towards a spot on the ceiling behind them. 'I've even got security.'

They turned around. On the ceiling, just over the door to the garden, was a camera the size of a box of kitchen matches.

'I need to look out for myself, if the police aren't going to do it,' Mehmet explained with a touch of bitterness in his voice.

'Okay,' said Jon. 'But erase the tape of the last couple of hours, all right?'

'Tape?' Mehmet burst out laughing. 'You're a dinosaur, Jon.'

'I know, I know. Just erase it, okay? We've got to go.'

Mehmet shook hands with them.

'And thanks for your help,' Katherina added.

'No prob,' replied Mehmet, opening the door for them.

Jon was extremely happy with the visit. For the first time since he'd agreed to handle the investigation, he had the feeling they'd taken a step forward. He could sense that Tom Nшrreskov had played a role in the whole thing, and they'd been lucky enough to track him down in spite of his attempts to hide. But Jon also suspected that this breakthrough was going to be short-lived.

They had to follow up on the lead while it was fresh, and that meant a trip to southern Sjжlland. They decided that Jon would pick up Katherina the next morning around ten. They both agreed not to take anyone else along. Pau wouldn't be any use; on the contrary, his attitude might ruin the whole trip, and besides, someone had to watch the shop.

This probably wasn't the most convenient moment for Jon to neglect his career, but the sooner he resolved this matter, the faster he could get back to focusing one hundred per cent of his attention on his work.

Jenny sounded worried when he rang in to check for news.

'I don't think they're very happy that you're spending so much time out of the office,' she whispered. 'There are rumours they want to take you off the Remer case.'

'Nonsense,' said Jon. 'As long as Remer doesn't answer my queries, I can't do anything anyway. Halbech knows him. He knows how difficult Remer can be.'

'Maybe. But promise me you won't take any more time off after this.'

'No reason to be nervous on my behalf.'

'Take care of yourself, Jon,' said Jenny and rang off before Jon could reply.

Maybe he was mistaken about Halbech's patience, but there would be plenty of time to make amends – there was nothing like unpaid overtime to smooth things out with his boss.

In a strange way, the meeting with Tom Nшrreskov, Klausen, or whatever he wanted to call himself, seemed far more urgent, as if the trip to Vordingborg were a race. Although Jon didn't know whether there was a prize, or whether he even wanted to win.