The Library of Shadows

7

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 Nшrrebro. 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.

Maybe the sibling comparison was more apt than she wanted to admit. In a sense she had been an only child in the shop with Luca and Iversen until Pau turned up like an unwanted little brother. It hadn't been easy for her to cede territory, and deep inside she felt a bit guilty about not giving him a warmer welcome.

In the area around Elmegade she rode the wrong way along a one-way street, keeping close to the parked cars or moving onto the pavement when a vehicle appeared, heading in the opposite direction. Several times she cast a glance over her shoulder, but she couldn't see anyone following her. At Sankt Hans Torv she cut across the square in front of the cafйs and tuned off Blegdamsvej down Nшrre Allй.

No doubt their squabbles also had something to do with age. Pau was seven years younger than she was, but mentally he was even younger, in her opinion. Everything centred around him and his needs. His training came before everything else. She shook her head again. Maybe she was just jealous.

Katherina swerved onto the pavement and stopped a couple of metres further along, in front of a grey building with white window frames. There were lights on in only two of the flats; in one the curtains were drawn, but through the other windows she could catch a glimpse of a white plaster ceiling from which hung a big chandelier with real candles.

The fact was that a lot had changed since Pau had started coming to Libri di Luca. The balance had shifted. Nowhe was the baby of the family while she, not without some pride, had become someone they could count on, and someone who could take care of herself. But the balance would shift again with Jon's return – the question was: to which side?

After parking her bike in the entryway, she checked once again that she wasn't being observed before she pushed open the front door and disappeared into the stairwell. Without switching on the light she headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. On the fifth floor she stopped outside a panelled door painted grey. The brass plate was clearly legible in spite of the dark, and even though she was unable to read it, she knew what it said: Centre for Dyslexia Studies (By Appointment Only).

Katherina pressed the bell twice, the first time longer than the second, and waited. In a moment she heard footsteps behind the door, and then the sound of a bolt being slid back. The door opened slightly and a strip of light shot out into the hall, capturing her in its glare. The light seemed especially bright since her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark in the stairwell and she blinked, holding her hand up to her face.

'Come in,' said a woman's voice, and the door opened wide.

Katherina stepped into a long, beige-coloured hallway with rows of brass hooks lining the walls. They were almost all taken by jackets and other outdoor garments, but she found an empty hook for her coat.

The woman who had let her in closed the door and turned to face her. She was in her mid-forties and a bit stout around the waist, which she tried to hide under a black dress. Her face was dominated by a pair of sturdy glasses and framed by light-brown hair which seemed a little artificial in the sharp glare coming from a row of halogen spotlights.

'Well?'

Katherina caught the other woman's glance and nodded. 'He's going to be good – better than his father.'