Mikkel Birkegaard - The Library of Shadows

On that particular day three such collisions took place.

The first one happened when he rang a glass company to order new windows for the bookshop. He'd chosen the one that was located closest to Libri di Luca, and it turned out that the glazier had known Luca. Jon introduced himself as the new owner with such ease that afterwards he had stared at the phone for a long time and had to resist the temptation to look at himself in the mirror.

The second collision came in the form of a phone call after lunch.

'Campelli? Remer here,' he heard on the other end of the line, despite the bad connection.

'I'm glad you rang,' replied Jon. 'I assume you received my letter?' After Remer's last visit, Jon had compiled the questions that hadn't been resolved when they met and sent them off to Remer.

'Letter?' repeated Remer. 'No, I didn't receive anything, but I'm in Holland at the moment, so I may be a little difficult to reach. Send an email instead – I usually get those.'

'I did that too,' remarked Jon.

'Oh. Well, that's not the reason I rang you up,' Remer said quickly. 'Do you remember that bookseller I told you about? I met him here in Amsterdam at a reception. Smart guy. He told me what happened at the shop. A very sad story. How serious is the damage?'

'It's not so bad,' replied Jon. 'The wooden facade and the windows have to be replaced, and a bunch of minor things need repair inside, but otherwise not much happened.'

'That's good to hear, Campelli. I can't have my lawyer getting his fingers burned.' Remer laughed loudly on the line while Jon wondered whether the real reason for the call was so that Remer could deliver that punchline.

'It's nice of you to think of me, Mr Remer, but I'd rather have you answer some of the questions I sent you.'

'Oh sure, I'll take a look at them,' said Remer. 'I just wanted to say that he's still interested in buying the place – the bookseller, I mean. He's even willing to overlook any fire damage.'

'As I said-'

'Don't tell me you're still considering becoming a bookseller yourself, Campelli?' Remer interrupted him. 'It does look as if it's more exciting than we both thought, but of course you know where your real talent lies. As I said before, just sell the place and get out of that business. It's much too unpredictable for laymen like us; recent events have proven that clearly enough.'

'Mr Remer,' Jon cut him off. 'Ihave made a decision. Libri di Luca is not for sale. And if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my job of keeping you out of prison.' He hung up before Remer could reply.

But it wasn't easy to concentrate after that call. He managed to write yet another email and a letter, but Jon's thoughts were more on the conversation than on his work. As he replayed Remer's words in his mind, he sometimes came to the conclusion that Remer had been trying to coerce him into selling for business reasons, but at other times he thought the man had made an outright threat.

The third collision took place during these speculations.

Katherina rang him from the bookshop. On the phone her voice sounded both fragile and gentle, but there was also a note of uncertainty, which Jon noticed at once.

'There's a claims assessor here in the shop,' she told him.

'Yes?' said Jon, as his brain made connections between fire damage, insurance policies and compensation.

'Is this something you requested?'

'No,' replied Jon. 'I think they just show up automatically, don't they?'

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

'The thing is,' whispered Katherina, 'he wants access to the basement.'

From the moment the claims assessor stepped through the door of Libri di Luca, the atmosphere changed. Katherina felt instantly ill at ease as his enquiring gaze swept over the boarded-up windows, the exposed floor and from there up to the bookshelves and balcony. There was no love for books in his eyes, just a cynical appraisal of what he saw, calculated in square metres and percentages.

Up until then it had been a good day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and even though it was cold, Katherina had enjoyed the bike ride from the Nordvest district into town. In the shop she started cleaning up. The bucket of vinegar had done its job, and the last whiff of smoke disappeared after a thorough airing. To add a little ambience to the room, she had brought up a five-branched candelabra from the basement and lit the candles. Somewhere deep inside she felt herself gloating at the idea of lighting small flames in a place where they had so recently fought much larger ones.

Not even the four or five customers who had appeared over the course of the day had bothered her – on the contrary, she had discreetly steered their attention to a couple of excellent purchases.

The only thing the man told her was his name, Mogens Verner, and the fact that he was a claims assessor who 'was going to look things over'. Under his light trenchcoat he wore a dark-blue suit, and under one arm he carried a notebook and a pocket calculator. At no time did he ask for permission to take a look around, nor did he ask Katherina any questions. In silence he surveyed the ground floor, paying special attention to the display windows and the floor. He quickly scanned the bookshelves without focusing on any individual titles. It was only when he climbed the stairs to the balcony that Katherina sensed that something was very wrong.

She didn't honestly know why he needed to go up there. Even from down below it was clear that the only damage the fire had done was on the underside of the balcony, and not on the mezzanine itself. In addition, he started lingering over the books, long enough to read the titles and the authors' names. Some of them he even wrote down in his notebook.

Although Katherina remained below, she could easily follow his survey of the contents of the glass cases above. She also noticed that he was very focused and only a few disruptive images interfered with his thought process. But there was one that showed up a number of times, though not long enough for her to make out the details. It was a picture of two men sitting across from him in a cafй. One was tall with red hair and deep-set dark eyes. The other had grey, close-cropped hair and seemed jovial and forthcoming. Both were wearing suits. Katherina was convinced she had seen the grey-haired man somewhere before.

As the claims assessor started down the stairs, Katherina made sure she was standing at the foot so that they would meet. He nodded to her and then made for the stairs down to the basement.

'Excuse me, but where are you going?' she asked sternly.

'I have to evaluate the entire property,' he said. 'That includes the basement.'

'Nothing was damaged down there,' said Katherina. 'The fire department didn't use any water indoors, so there can't be any water or fire damage.'

'Nevertheless,' said the man with a sigh, 'it's my job to inspect all the rooms.'

'I'm afraid I can't permit that,' said Katherina. 'Not without the owner being present.'

'The owner?' The claims assessor expressed surprise. 'He's the one who requested the appraisal.'

After the phone conversation with Jon, Katherina persuaded the claims assessor to come back in half an hour. He wasn't pleased. With rising irritation he tried to explain that he had other appointments that day, and that the case couldn't be resolved without his final evaluation. His mood hadn't improved when he returned thirty-five minutes later and Jon still hadn't turned up.

'What should we do now?' he was asking just as Jon opened the door to the shop and came in, out of breath.

Katherina smiled with relief and motioned towards Jon as he came over to them.

'Mogens Verner,' said the claims assessor, holding out his hand.