Mikkel Birkegaard - The Library of Shadows

'That's about all,' said Mehmet sadly.

On the screen the burglars gave up the pursuit and vented their frustration on the contents of Mehmet's flat before leaving.

'Are you okay?' asked Katherina, putting her hand on his shoulder.

'I'll be fine,' Mehmet replied. 'Just a few scratches.' He pointed at the image of his ravaged flat. 'Those bastards.'

'Did you manage to find out anything about the school?'

'Of course,' said Mehmet and smiled for the first time. 'I'm about to download the last bit right now.' He glanced around. 'Let's switch to a different terminal.'

They got up and went towards the escalator.

'These terminals aren't good for much,' he said. 'But from here I can go through the library's server and access… well, just about anything.'

'If you say so,' said Katherina.

They took the escalator up to the fourth floor.

'It wasn't easy to get into the school's server. Not exactly what you'd expect from a school,' Mehmet whispered along the way. 'But I guess it's not what you'd call a normal school, is it? At least I don't know any other school that has that kind of security monitoring and can react so quickly. In fact, I don't know of anyone who can trace a hacker in such a short time and even send out a bunch of thugs while he's working.'

On the fourth floor they found an available terminal and Mehmet sat down and started typing. The screen went blank and then slowly filled up with symbols.

'What did you find out?' asked Katherina.

'I finally got into their security system and found the class lists,' he began. 'As I said, a strange school. It looks like they have their own grading system. All the kids have an RL value, whatever that means. Anyway, I ran the list of student names against the airline passenger lists and got two hits on the same flight as Jon.'

'Only two?' said Katherina in surprise. 'Are you sure?'

'A hundred per cent,' replied Mehmet. 'But then I tried the private charter companies. Even though they don't operate regular flights, they still have to enter passenger lists.'

'And?'

'There have been two departures during the past week. Each flight carried twenty-five passengers who either attend or have attended the Demetrius School. Of all ages.'

Katherina sighed. 'Fifty,' she said, sounding dejected.

'Plus a few more,' Mehmet added. 'There were a few passengers who aren't on the lists of students. Approximately ten others.'

'Can you print out the lists?'

'Of course,' replied Mehmet. 'You can have names, addresses, even photos if you want. At least of the students.' He got up. 'We're going to have to change terminals again.'

They found another monitor at the opposite side of the floor. A moment later photos and lists began scrolling down the screen.

'But now I think it's time for you to giveme something,' said Mehmet. 'You can start by telling me what the hell is really going on.'

He took off his dark glasses and looked Katherina in the eye.

'It's one thing when the two of you get mixed up in something, but when it starts affecting my business and my health, I think I'm entitled to an explanation.'

Katherina nodded. 'And I'll give you one,' she said, 'but not here.'

Mehmet gave her a dubious look.

She shifted her gaze back to the class lists.

'Stop,' she said, pointing.

With the press of a button, Mehmet stopped the scrolling on the monitor.

'Back up a little,' Katherina told him.

A photo appeared on the screen, showing a dark-haired boy. It was an old picture, but his crooked, arrogant smile was unmistakable.

It was Pau.

Jon woke with a thundering headache.

Still bleary with sleep, he reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and drank it down in one gulp. There were still red marks around his wrists, and he turned them back and forth as he studied them. Then he broke out into a big smile.

He was part of something amazing.

All his life he'd been held back and robbed of his destiny, but now it was time to regain what he'd lost. It would do no good to cry over time wasted and all the lies that he'd been told. The goal made everything worth it.

Jon got out of bed and went over to the window. It was light outside, and he surmised that it must be early morning. He opened the curtains and looked out at the landscape. Less than a hundred metres away flowed a wide river, its restless surface glinting with sunlight. Between the water and the house were carefully sectioned plots of land with dark green plants in red soil. On the other side of the river the picture was the same: fields with scattered houses in between. On a few of the plots of land he could see people hoeing the ground or carrying away crops.

On the previous evening he hadn't been able to examine his surroundings. Then only single lights were visible in the houses that he now saw before him. He'd also been too tired and filled with his newly acquired knowledge to notice the details of the landscape, even if it had been broad daylight.

Poul Holt, the man whom Jon now regarded as his guide, had read for three hours, sitting next to his hospital bed. Jon felt ashamed as he thought back on it. He had behaved in an ignorant and foolish manner, too proud to see the truth and too weak to reject his past and acknowledge his destiny. But that had changed over the course of those three hours. During that time he had come to a realization, and he had Remer and Holt to thank for the fact that he could now, at last, fulfil his potential.

At first he had fought against it. The book was his enemy, and when Holt started to read, Jon had done all he could to distract himself and focus on anything other than what he was hearing. The reading continued, and gradually he couldn't help listening. It was the story about the founding of the Order and the achievements the group had made through the centuries. The leather-bound book was a chronicle of what he had previously called the Shadow Organization, but now knew as the Order of Enlightenment. The contrast in meaning made him smile at his own naivetй. This Order cast no shadows.

There was no doubt that Holt was a skilled transmitter and that he had made good use of his powers from the very first word he read. Jon could now see that it was necessary. He'd been so frozen in his own world view that he needed help, even though it meant that Holt had to exert a small amount of influence.

During the reading Holt had stopped three times. He removed the tape from Jon's mouth and gave him some water to drink. Each time he asked with concern about how Jon was feeling. Whether he had a headache, pains at the back of his head, or whether he was seeing spots before his eyes. The last time Jon had refused the offer of water. He would rather have the reading continue so he could learn more about the amazing development of the Order. After that it was no longer necessary to put tape over his mouth. And when Poul Holt decided it was time to stop, the leather straps were removed and Jon was allowed to move freely about the room.

Remer had come in a short time later, and from what Jon could remember, he hadn't left until Jon fell asleep. He felt at peace here. More at peace than he'd felt in a long time, maybe even since that time when… Jon pushed the thought aside with a grimace of annoyance. He'd been deceived by those he had loved and trusted, that much was clear to him now. He had to put all that behind him and focus on his future.

At that moment someone knocked on the door and Jon turned round.

'Come on in,' he called cheerfully.

Poul Holt came in carrying a tray on which a breakfast of toast and tea had been arranged. There was also a book bound in black leather.

'Bon appйtit,' said Holt with a smile as he put down the tray.