The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man. Jonas Jonasson

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       North Korea

      Since Kim Jong-un was never wrong, naturally he had not rushed off in youthful zeal after that encrypted message from the captain of Honour and Strength, the one about how the solution to his ongoing nuclear weapons problems was a hundred and one years old and would soon arrive at the harbour in Nampo, sixty kilometres south of Pyongyang.

      Instead he settled down for a bit of reflection with his evening tea. Because, really, what was to say that the Swiss man Karlsson was who and what he said he was, other than that he’d said so himself?

      According to the Honour and Strength captain’s second, more detailed, report to the Supreme Leader, Karlsson seemed to have demonstrated a surprising amount of insight into the Democratic People’s Republic’s ongoing woes when it came to the production of plutonium. This was, of course, one piece of circumstantial evidence. Another was the fact that he was Swiss. The Supreme One had lived and studied in Switzerland when he was younger. A lot could be said about the Swiss. They were, to be sure, detestable capitalists, like just about everyone else, and a bit more so than almost everyone else. And they worshipped their bloody Schweizerfranc. As if it had anything the North Korean won didn’t.

      But in addition they were always on time, as if they all had Swiss clocks surgically installed in their heads. And they succeeded in every undertaking. Quite simply, a Swiss nuclear weapons expert could not be a fraud. Right?

      There would have to be a double-check before the Swiss man was allowed in.

      Thus it came to pass that Kim Jong-un contacted the director of the laboratory at the plutonium factory in Yongbyon, the one who had just replaced the boss who had disappeared some time earlier. The new man could not yet be held accountable for all the shortcomings of the factory, but that was only a matter of time. Now he was tasked with meeting the Swiss man as soon as he set foot on North Korean ground, and not allowing him access to the Supreme Leader until it was clear that he was what and who he ought to be.

      * * *

      Allan and Julius were escorted ashore in the harbour at Nampo and met by a middle-aged man in civilian clothing, who was flanked by six young, nervous soldiers.

      ‘Messrs Karlsson and Jonsson, I presume?’ the man said in English.

      ‘Well presumed,’ said Allan. ‘I’m Karlsson. And you? We were supposed to meet the Supreme Leader to offer our services. It seems to me that you are not he. In which case he is not you, I imagine.’

      The man in civilian garb was concentrating too hard on his task to allow himself to be distracted by Allan’s exposition.

      ‘You are correct that I am not the Supreme Leader. I am the director of the laboratory at one of the development plants of the Democratic People’s Republic. We’ll leave my name out of it. I have arranged a place for us to sit down and speak undisturbed. If the conversation goes as it should, the Supreme Leader awaits you afterwards. Circumstances dictate that time is at a premium, so would you please be so kind as to follow me?’

      The laboratory director didn’t wait for an answer before he began to walk to the harbour offices, while the six young soldiers surrounded Allan and Julius and made sure they followed.

      Soon the trio had settled into a conference room that the harbour had kindly made available after a proposal from the Supreme Leader’s staff. The six young soldiers were left outside the door.

      ‘Let’s begin. I turn to you, Mr Karlsson, since you are the one who claims to be a nuclear weapons expert, willing to put your services at the disposal of the Democratic People’s Republic. For that reason I have a few questions concerning your commitment to our cause, as well as what you believe you can contribute more specifically. In short, my task is to find out if you’re a charlatan or not.’

      A charlatan? Allan thought. Surely it doesn’t make you a charlatan just because you invent as much about yourself as necessity demands. ‘No, I’m no charlatan,’ he lied. ‘Just old. And well-travelled. A little hungry and thirsty. And something more too, I’m sure. By the way, Julius here is an asparagus farmer. Green asparagus, primarily.’

      Up to this point, Julius hadn’t said a word. What could he say? He nodded cautiously, longing to be somewhere else. ‘Asparagus,’ he said. ‘Green, as you heard.’

      The laboratory director was not interested in Julius. Instead he leaned across the desk and looked Allan in the eye. ‘Lovely to hear that you’re a truth-teller. I’d just like to remind you, Mr Nuclear Weapons Expert, that I’m an expert myself. Nonsense and empty phrases about asparagus or anything else will not suffice. Are you ready for my questions? The first is about your motive in helping the Democratic People’s Republic.’

      Julius prayed to the god he appropriately didn’t believe in, considering the country he was in. Please don’t let Allan go too far.

      ‘Well, if we’re being honest here, Mr Laboratory Director must not be much of a nuclear weapons expert. My services would not be required otherwise. By “development plant”, I assume you mean a plutonium factory. Is it the one to the north of the city you work at? Perhaps it doesn’t matter, because you can’t have sorted out any measurable amounts of weapons-grade plutonium.’

      Within just a few seconds, the laboratory director had lost control of the conversation. Allan went on: ‘Although there’s no reason to be too upset about it – this business with plutonium is terribly difficult. I think you should switch to uranium. And I imagine you’ve probably already come to this realization on your own.’

      Any charlatan worth his salt radiates a level of confidence that’s hard to defend oneself against. The laboratory director now had very little left of his original certainty. ‘Would you please answer the question?’ he said curtly.

      ‘I would be very happy to,’ said Allan. ‘But I’m a bit advanced in age and I have to confess I’ve forgotten what the question was.’

      The laboratory director had very nearly done the same, but he racked his brains and repeated it.

      The answer to the question about why Allan wanted to help was basically that he didn’t want to help at all. However, he had nothing against surviving his repeat visit to North Korea. With that in mind, perhaps it was best to adjust his tone. ‘All you have to do is look around, Mr Laboratory Director,’ he said, pointing through the windows of the harbour offices.

      The view was of a run-down industrial area. To the left of the rustiest warehouse stood a dead maple, representing the only greenery the scene had to offer.

      ‘It’s hard to beat the beauty of your democratic republic. The abundant nature. The devoted people. The struggle against an ever-crueller world. Someone must dare to take the side of peace and love. A few days ago, your country saved the lives of me and my friend Julius. The least we can do is pay back the favour as best we can. Our services are fully at your disposal. If you would like advice on how to optimize your asparagus operations, there’s no better man for the job than Julius. If you happen to want to prioritize your optimization of whatever enriched uranium you may have lying around, then I’m your man.’

      On occasion, people function such that they hear what they want to hear and believe what they want to believe. The laboratory director nodded, decently satisfied with this truthful description of his country, while СКАЧАТЬ