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

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 he said that the Democratic People’s Republic intended mainly to avail itself of Karlsson’s services, not Jonsson’s. But to be more concrete? The reports said that Karlsson was an expert in hetisostat pressure? No matter how hard the laboratory director looked, he could not find any confirmation that such a thing existed. Much less any information about how it might work.

      Julius prayed to God again.

      Allan responded. ‘I remember it from my relative youth at Los Alamos in the United States. The Americans toiled day and night to build that atom bomb, until at last I had to step in and tell them what to do. But there isn’t a single word about that on the internet, is there?’

      No. The laboratory director had to acknowledge that there wasn’t. And he understood that this wasn’t only because the internet hadn’t been invented until over forty years later.

      ‘Hetisostat pressure was created by me, in a secret laboratory outside Geneva. Though it’s not as secret now as it was until just a moment ago, before I talked about it. As you will know, Mr Laboratory Director, the critical mass of enriched uranium of the grade in question is twenty-five kilos – twenty-five point two, to be exact. With my pressure, the neutrons are held in place many times longer, and the chain reaction gets another burst of strength over and over until you have destroyed what needs to be destroyed with a considerably smaller amount of the key isotope. Particularly suitable for someone who prefers to stick the nuclear weapon into a missile rather than carry around a bomb that weighs a few tons.’

      Allan had read something about twenty-five point two and sounded sufficiently sure of himself to make the laboratory director equally sure.

      ‘But in greater detail?’ he tried again.

      ‘Greater detail? How many weeks do we have? Perhaps the Supreme Leader has no problem being made to wait. Although I think I speak for both myself and the asparagus farmer here beside me when I say that, if we’re going to do this, we’ll have to start with some food and a bed on top of that, or rather, two beds. We may be good friends, Julius and me, but we prefer to sleep separately. Once we’re full and rested I’ll be more than willing, even genuinely eager, to tell you what you want to know, Mr Laboratory Director.’

      The hundred-and-one-year-old was a gifted talker. The laboratory director knew what Allan suspected: that Kim Jong-un absolutely did not want to wait a week or two. Or even much more than an hour. A decision had to be made, and soon. The director had been given sanction to supply the two Swiss men with a shot to the back of the head each instead of food and a place to sleep, should the situation so demand. But he also had orders to allow them through if it was likely to be in the best interest of the nation.

      So what should he do? It was true that the old man was a chatterbox. It was also true that he’d hit the mark when it came to the critical mass of uranium, and to the decimal besides. And he appeared to be completely assured about this situation.

      The laboratory director picked up a cigarette and looked around for his lighter. Julius fished the hotel manager’s from his pocket and offered it to him. The laboratory director thanked him, lit up and took a deep drag.

      After another of the same, the laboratory director made