Mikkel Birkegaard - The Library of Shadows

She took off at a run, turning down the first side street she came to. An old Lada almost ran her over in the narrow lane, and she had to jump aside and press her body up against the wall to avoid the car. Little shops were tucked into niches on either side, mostly electronics shops stacked from floor to ceiling with watches and cameras, phones and computers. A constant flow of motorbikes rushed past at breakneck speed, and Katherina alternated between running along the street and racing along the pavement in order to keep going. At the next corner she stopped and looked back. Just as she thought that she'd manage to escape, she heard a shout.

'She headed to the right,' someone yelled in unmistakable Danish.

Katherina forced herself to keep running as she looked for an exit. This street was slightly wider and considerably longer than the one she'd come from, so they'd be able to see her as soon as they turned the corner.

After ten metres she couldn't manage to run any further, and she dashed inside a shop. It was a bridal boutique. There were almost as many bridal boutiques as electronics stores in Alexandria. One whole wall was covered with bridal gowns, hanging in two rows. Katherina grabbed the first dress she saw.

Aside from her, there was no one in the shop except for the owner, a stout middle-aged woman who got up from her chair behind the counter and came towards Katherina with a smile. Before the woman could even say hello, Katherina had pulled the gown over her head and reached behind to pull up the zipper.

'You want dress?' asked the shop-owner in English with a mixture of friendliness and astonishment.

Katherina turned to face the mirror which was set up at the far end of the store. From there she could keep an eye on the street behind her.

'Too big,' said the woman, laughing. 'Too big.'

The shop-owner began tugging at the zipper, but Katherina stopped her.

'Baby,' she said, pointing to her stomach.

At that moment she caught sight of the bald man from the marketplace. He was staring through the shop window.

'Ahh,' exclaimed the owner, giving Katherina a knowing wink. 'Baby.' She began merrily chattering to herself in Arabic as she continued to nod and smile eagerly.

The man outside paused for a moment. For a split second Katherina met his eyes in the mirror, but he didn't recognize her and moved on up the street.

'But too long,' said the shop-owner and laughed even louder.

Katherina looked down at the dress. It was indeed much too long. She threw out her arms.

'Too long,' she admitted.

The shop-owner helped her out of the dress and began hauling down other gowns for her customer to try on. Katherina kept shaking her head and pointing towards the door.

'Must go,' she said repeatedly. 'Do not feel well.' She pointed at her stomach.

'Ahh,' cried the shop-owner again, this time with disappointment. 'You feel better. You come back.' She patted Katherina's cheek. 'You get good price. Baby price.'

Katherina thanked the woman and slipped out, turning to go in the same direction she had come without looking back. Only after ten metres did she stop at a window to study the display. A number of fake weapons were on view: knives, pistols and larger guns. She glanced back along the street, but the two men were nowhere in sight, so she continued as quickly as she dared without actually running.

After turning several corners and dashing through small, narrow alleyways that she'd come to know from her wanderings, she finally felt sure that she'd given them the slip. She sat down on a doorstep and buried her face in her hands. Tears welled up in her eyes.

She had found Jon and then lost him again. She'd been standing not five metres from him, but then she'd run in the opposite direction. She swore at her own cowardice. If only she'd been able to reach him. It was clear that he had changed, or at least that he didn't remember what they'd shared together. What had those people done to him?

'Have you found anything?' asked a voice.

Katherina raised her head. A man dressed in white robes stood in front of her. He wore a traditional Arabic head-dress that covered much of his face. Only the man's words revealed that he was a European.

'Mehmet,' she cried with relief as she stood up to give him a hug.

Mehmet cautiously placed his arms around her and gently patted her back.

'It looks like you've found something, huh?'

He didn't wait for a reply, nor did he ask her any more questions as he led her back to the hotel through the narrow streets.

'I hope I can figure out how to put it on again,' said Mehmet as he unwound the fabric that formed his head-dress and placed it on the armchair in Katherina's room.

It was a very sparsely furnished room with only a bed, a chair and an armchair with floral upholstery. The shutters were closed, and the room was in semi-darkness.

Katherina was sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs pressed together and her elbows propped on her knees.

Mehmet pounded on the wall to the adjoining room.

'Could you come in here, Henning?' he said loudly. The walls were so thin they could hear what was going on in nearly every room on the floor. As far as they could tell, they were the only Scandinavians in the hotel, so they didn't have to watch what they said.

A moment later Henning turned up, his face pale and with sweat trickling from his scalp.

'What's going on?' he asked as he sat down in the armchair, moving like an old man.

'I saw Jon,' said Katherina.

Mehmet sat down next to her and waited for her to go on.

'At the marketplace,' she explained. 'All of a sudden he was just standing there, giving me a really strange look as if I were a total stranger.' She took in a deep breath. 'Then he sent his bodyguards after me.'

'Bodyguards?' said Henning. 'Are you sure they weren't his prison guards?'

Katherina nodded. 'He pointed me out to them.'

Mehmet looked down at his hands. 'He must have had a good reason for doing that,' he said. 'Maybe he wanted to scare you off, so they wouldn't capture you too.'

'But you should have seen his eyes,' said Katherina. 'The look in his eyes was so different. As if he hated me with all his heart.'

'Maybe he was trying to push you away for your own protection,' Henning suggested.

Katherina shook her head vigorously. 'No, he really meant it,' she told them.

'That can only mean one thing,' said Henning solemnly. 'They've been reading to him.'

The idea of brainwashing had crossed Katherina's mind as she searched for an explanation, but it hadn't occurred to her that it might have been done through reading. Even though she'd participated in a reading, she didn't connect it with brainwashing or torture.

'But is that possible?' she asked. 'We were… are… in love. How could that be turned into hatred in such a short time?'

'It would require an extraordinarily talented transmitter,' Henning admitted. 'And an even better excuse.'

'Excuse?' said Mehmet. 'I don't get it.'

'A reading can't totally replace one attitude with another. It can't turn white to black. If you try to do that, you'll fail. On the other hand, if you try to present an alternative explanation, the subject in question, with the proper sort of influence, willchoose to change his attitude. The subject will be able to recall everything – the attitude he had previously held, and even the reading itself, but he'll think he made the choice on his own.'

'Man, that's sneaky,' exclaimed Mehmet, leaning back on the bed.

'So Jon made the choice to hate me?' asked Katherina.

Henning shifted uneasily in his chair.

'In any case he was presented with a lie that convinced him hehad to hate you.'

Katherina got up and went over to the window. Through the slats in the blinds she could look down at the street in front of the hotel. There wasn't as much traffic in this part of the city, only an occasional motorbike racing past.