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

boat as the gentlemen.

      ‘Properly lead-encased,’ said Kim Jong-un, and with that he placed his hand on the brown briefcase on the desk. Annoyingly enough, there was no time at the present to hear what hetisostat pressure might achieve with the contents of the briefcase. An assistant had snuck into the room to whisper something into the Supreme Leader’s ear.

      ‘Thank you,’ said Kim Jong-un. ‘I would have liked to hear more about your pressure, but we must get moving. We’re going to KCNA. All three of us. No, scratch that, we have no use for the executive assistant there, so we’ll send him directly to the hotel.’

      Kim Jong-un stood up and signalled the gentlemen to follow him.

      Julius didn’t know which was worse – being forced to visit a mysterious jumble of letters with Kim Jong-un, or not being allowed to come.

      ‘KCNA?’ he whispered anxiously to Allan. ‘What’s that?’

      ‘I’m sure it is whatever it is,’ said Allan. ‘I hope that, unlike the tea, it can be drunk. Or at least eaten.’

       North Korea

      Korea had held together as a united empire for 1274 years. Then it had gone downhill fast. After the Second World War, the Americans and Russians couldn’t agree on what the Koreans wanted, and neither thought it was an option to ask the Koreans. The Russians placed a Communist in power in the north; the Americans, an anti-Communist in the south. The guy in the north thought he had the right to all of Korea. The one in the south thought the same thing, but the other way around.

      This led to the violence that history books call the Korean War. Of course there had been wars on the peninsula before, but people have such short memories.

      After two million Koreans (plus the occasional foreigner) had died in battle, enough was enough. They pointed at a line in the ground (the same line that had been there since before the war) and decided that, until further notice, they would keep to their own sides.

      The Communist in the north invented ‘self-reliance’ as a political ideology, while his counterpart in the south, sensibly enough, did not label the dictatorship he created with any honest name.

      Years passed. Leaders on both sides came and went, as leaders tend to do. The dictatorship in the south gradually lost its hold, while the self-reliance in the north prospered so extensively that people began to starve.

      It’s easy for someone who trusts only themselves to become suspicious of others. When the south allowed American tactical nuclear weapons to be placed on their side of the border, those in the north took it all wrong. At least from an arms reduction perspective.

      The Swedish manufacturer Volvo, outside Gothenburg, was full of celebration after the delivery of a thousand shiny new cars to Pyongyang. This celebration later turned out to be premature. For the North Koreans had rearranged their priorities. They chose to build test sites for nuclear weapons instead of paying what they owed. To this day, Volvo hasn’t received a single North Korean won in return.

      Despite one thing and the next, there were some cross-border talks. Surely a solution could be reached. Yes, perhaps. For a while, in the early childhood of the current century, things were looking very bright indeed.

      But back to the part about how leaders come and go. In 2017, tensions were higher than ever between the north on the one hand, and most of the rest of the world on the other. The latest in the series of leaders who had come, but not yet gone, were named Kim Jong-un and Donald J. Trump. And caught in the middle was the Swedish UN envoy Margot Wallström.

      She had no illusions that her task would be an easy one.

      * * *

      The envoy and her plane landed at Sunan International Airport ten minutes ahead of the scheduled time. The Supreme Leader was informed and, as planned, he immediately adjourned the ongoing meeting with Messrs Karlsson and Jonsson.

      Wallström was shown to a limousine and informed that the Supreme Leader awaited. Her baggage would be transported to the pre-booked hotel or the Swedish embassy, depending on which the envoy preferred.

      The journey took her south towards central Pyongyang. After forty minutes the limousine passed the Supreme Leader’s palace and continued towards downtown.

      ‘Excuse me, but weren’t we going to see the Supreme Leader?’ said Minister for Foreign Affairs Wallström.

      ‘That is correct,’ the driver responded, without expounding further.

      Ten minutes later, in any case, the journey was over. The minister for foreign affairs was invited out of the limousine and led into an eight-storey building.

      ‘Where are we?’ she asked her smiling female escort in bewilderment.

      ‘This is the main office of the news bureau KCNA. The Supreme Leader awaits.’

      A news bureau? Margot Wallström felt ill at ease. After all, this trip was supposed to take place under the greatest discretion so that it didn’t spur even greater polarization between the parties. On the other hand, this was probably a country where no news bureau would dare to report on her presence without first obtaining the blessing of the Supreme Leader. Perhaps her worry was unfounded.

      Their journey continued three storeys up, down a long hallway, to the left, right and left again.

      ‘Here we are,’ said the escort. ‘Please step in.’

      If Margot Wallström had been expecting crystal chandeliers and velvet chairs, she was disappointed. This was more like … Well, what was this? The anteroom of a theatre stage? A TV studio? There were cables running along the sides, two discarded spotlights in one corner, and …

      There he was.

      ‘Welcome, Madame Minister for Foreign Affairs,’ the Supreme Leader said kindly. ‘Was the trip okay?’

      ‘Yes, thank you. Very nice to meet you, but I have to ask … Where are we, and what are we doing here?’

      ‘Why, we’re going to save the world together,’ said Kim Jong-un. ‘But right now, you must meet the man to whom I myself have hardly even had time to say hello.’

      Allan Karlsson was shoved out from behind a curtain and walked over to greet Minister for Foreign Affairs Wallström.

      ‘This is the world’s perhaps pre-eminent expert in nuclear weapons, Mr Karlsson from Switzerland. He has come to the Democratic People’s Republic out of love for our common cause.’

      Minister for Foreign Affairs Margot Wallström found herself in a situation out of her control. But she took the old Swiss man’s hand on Kim Jong-un’s urging.

      ‘Good day,’ said the minister, hesitantly and in English.

      ‘Good day yourself,’ said Allan, one hundred per cent in Swedish and with a faint Sörmland accent.

      There was no reaction from Kim Jong-un when he didn’t understand the nuclear weapons expert’s greeting, but Margot Wallström realized to her horror that a Swedish man, not a Swiss, was apparently about to upgrade North Korea’s nuclear weapons arsenal. What was going on?

      Karlsson, was that his name? Minister for Foreign Affairs Wallström refrained from beginning to speak Swedish with him. He had, after all, been introduced as Swiss and the very best thing she could do right now was to feel her way through the situation.

      The Supreme Leader lightly clapped both Allan and the UN envoy on the back and said he was looking forward to a dinner together in the palace that same evening. Karlsson’s executive assistant Jonsson was invited as well.

      Jonsson? That didn’t sound particularly Swiss either.

      ‘But we’ll start with the press conference,’ said Kim Jong-un, signalling to a man with a headset who, in turn,