he had placed the book. It was still there, bulging a bit because of the worn pages. The time on the clock radio next to the book shifted at that moment to 7:00, and the voice of a tired DJ seeped out of the speaker, reciting the latest news. Unrest in Israel, absurd political arguments in the debate about immigrants, a post office robbery. Not until the monotone voice began summarizing the results of a study about children's reading abilities did Jon raise himself up on his elbows to listen. Danish children were apparently worse readers than children in neighbouring countries – a development that the Minister of Education found worrisome and unacceptable. Jon sank down onto his back and closed his eyes with a sigh. Next week they would come out with another study proving just the opposite.
The DJ was replaced by another, a cheerful morning-type who started spewing inanities that roused Jon to get out of bed. He turned on the coffee-maker and went through his morning routine: showering, shaving, drinking coffee, ironing a shirt, knotting his tie, and more coffee. The habitual tasks calmed him, and on his way out it was the day ahead of him that preoccupied his thoughts rather than what had happened the night before.
It was only when he was sitting in his car, rolling along with the morning traffic slowly flowing through the city, that he noticed how many people around him were reading. Passengers on the buses were reading books, people sitting on benches were immersed in the morning paper, schoolchildren on the pavement were reading through their lessons as they moved cautiously along like tightrope walkers, placing one foot in front of the other. Signs in the shop windows were read by passers-by, bus adverts were glimpsed by drivers, flyers were scanned and tossed aside by mothers with prams. It seemed to him that everywhere words and sentences had invaded the facades, windows, signs and buses for the purpose of enticing him to decipher their messages, a decoding process he could no longer be sure he controlled.
Jon drove the rest of the way to the office with his eyes fixed straight ahead on the road in front of him.
He had barely opened the glass doors to the reception area before Jenny, the secretary, came running towards him with a newspaper in her hand. She was a blonde and what might be called a cheerful, plump young woman.
'Listen to this,' she said merrily, waving the newspaper.
Jenny arrived at the office significantly earlier than he did, and they had worked out a routine: she found articles in the daily papers that were either relevant to their work or were simply funny. Then she would present what she'd found to him, often reading them aloud over a first cup of coffee. Frequently he didn't even need to bother looking through the papers himself.
Jon glanced at the newspaper and then at Jenny. He saw how her eyes, full of anticipation, looked down at the paper as her lips began forming the first sentence.
'I'll read it later.' Jon abruptly cut her off and continued on towards his office.
'Okay,' murmured Jenny, clearly disappointed, letting her arms fall to her sides.
Jon stopped and turned around. 'Sorry, but I didn't sleep well last night. Give me half an hour.'
Jenny nodded and slowly folded up the paper.
'Nice tie,' she said and retreated to her desk.
Jon waved his hand in thanks as he continued through the open-plan room towards the Remer office. At the door he fished out the keys with the Smurf figure and let himself in. Safe inside, he leaned his back against the closed door.
He took a couple of deep breaths before an annoyed grimace appeared on his face. It wouldn't do him any good to go about in a constant state of paranoia. It was impossible to do his job without reading, and it wasn't realistic to think he could move around freely without anyone else reading in his presence. He shook his head. If Lectors had ever used him before, he hadn't noticed it, and considering his present position,
The DJ was replaced by another, a cheerful morning-type who started spewing inanities that roused Jon to get out of bed. He turned on the coffee-maker and went through his morning routine: showering, shaving, drinking coffee, ironing a shirt, knotting his tie, and more coffee. The habitual tasks calmed him, and on his way out it was the day ahead of him that preoccupied his thoughts rather than what had happened the night before.
It was only when he was sitting in his car, rolling along with the morning traffic slowly flowing through the city, that he noticed how many people around him were reading. Passengers on the buses were reading books, people sitting on benches were immersed in the morning paper, schoolchildren on the pavement were reading through their lessons as they moved cautiously along like tightrope walkers, placing one foot in front of the other. Signs in the shop windows were read by passers-by, bus adverts were glimpsed by drivers, flyers were scanned and tossed aside by mothers with prams. It seemed to him that everywhere words and sentences had invaded the facades, windows, signs and buses for the purpose of enticing him to decipher their messages, a decoding process he could no longer be sure he controlled.
Jon drove the rest of the way to the office with his eyes fixed straight ahead on the road in front of him.
He had barely opened the glass doors to the reception area before Jenny, the secretary, came running towards him with a newspaper in her hand. She was a blonde and what might be called a cheerful, plump young woman.
'Listen to this,' she said merrily, waving the newspaper.
Jenny arrived at the office significantly earlier than he did, and they had worked out a routine: she found articles in the daily papers that were either relevant to their work or were simply funny. Then she would present what she'd found to him, often reading them aloud over a first cup of coffee. Frequently he didn't even need to bother looking through the papers himself.
Jon glanced at the newspaper and then at Jenny. He saw how her eyes, full of anticipation, looked down at the paper as her lips began forming the first sentence.
'I'll read it later.' Jon abruptly cut her off and continued on towards his office.
'Okay,' murmured Jenny, clearly disappointed, letting her arms fall to her sides.
Jon stopped and turned around. 'Sorry, but I didn't sleep well last night. Give me half an hour.'
Jenny nodded and slowly folded up the paper.
'Nice tie,' she said and retreated to her desk.
Jon waved his hand in thanks as he continued through the open-plan room towards the Remer office. At the door he fished out the keys with the Smurf figure and let himself in. Safe inside, he leaned his back against the closed door.
He took a couple of deep breaths before an annoyed grimace appeared on his face. It wouldn't do him any good to go about in a constant state of paranoia. It was impossible to do his job without reading, and it wasn't realistic to think he could move around freely without anyone else reading in his presence. He shook his head. If Lectors had ever used him before, he hadn't noticed it, and considering his present position,
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