Юнас Юнассон - The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man

Ambassador Breitner shook hands with them.

‘Might you be hungry, Mr Breitner?’ Allan asked. ‘The miracle cure we were just served has whetted my appetite. We’d love you to keep us company at some venue, especially if you might be so generous as to foot the bill, because it has just occurred to me that we have no money. We once had a gold cigarette lighter, but we had to exchange it in Pyongyang for muesli with milk.’

UN Ambassador Breitner had already come to enjoy his new companions. Also, he was curious about the frail man who had apparently just had a disastrous meeting with President Trump. The other, too, might have an interesting story to tell. But above all he was an experienced diplomat and as such he was always on the job. Pyongyang? These two gentlemen might be sources of information.

‘Why, it so happens I can spare an hour or two for a couple of diplomat gentlemen. And the Federal Republic will pick up the tab. We can afford that.’

The German knew a nice place on Second Avenue. It wasn’t far to walk, even for Allan. There they were served schnitzel, German beer and fruit vodka, and the mood was so cheery that with their second toast, Ambassador Breitner suggested that Allan and Julius could call him Konrad.

‘Of course, Konrad,’ said Allan.

‘For once I agree with Allan, Konrad,’ said Julius.

During dinner the ambassador learned first how an iPad works (he chose not to mention that he already owned two) and then how best to cultivate asparagus. After their second toast, the conversation turned to how Allan and Julius had ended up in North Korea and managed to sneak out with the help of Minister Wallström and the diplomatic passports she had conjured up.

Konrad Breitner was able to connect Allan and Julius’s story with the news he had been following for the past few days. So the Swiss nuclear weapons expert was Swedish! He didn’t appear to be much of a traitor, but he was quite a rascal when it came to downing fruit vodka. He had already had three, though he had complained all the while, saying he didn’t understand what business fruit had being in vodka.

Julius didn’t have Allan’s talent for taking the day and early evening as they came, not by a long shot. He was tormented by the fact that he had a briefcase full of enriched uranium at his feet, and the more vodkas he consumed, the more his imagination convinced him that Ambassador Konrad was sneaking repeated glances at it. All in his mind or not, he decided to be proactive.

‘We are certainly happy that we managed to get away with all of Allan’s technical design plans in the briefcase here. It would have been terrible if they’d got into the hands of the Supreme Leader.’

For a moment Allan thought his friend was about to ruin a carefree night at the pub, but then he caught on to what Julius was up to. The asparagus farmer wanted nothing more than to be rid of the uranium, and it wasn’t as if they could just put it down somewhere between Fifth and Sixth Avenues and walk away. Konrad might be the answer to their problem!

‘I’m glad you revealed what the briefcase contains, Julius. We’d been planning to hand it all over to President Trump, but… well, as I said, he was about to explode even without any blueprints for how it should be done. Now we’re wondering if we might find terminal storage for the documentation in safer hands.’

‘Have you discussed the matter with Minister Wallström?’ Konrad wondered, sobering up.

Allan said that Madame Wallström was extraordinary in every way, but at the end of the day she was Swedish and had, like all Swedes from 1966 onwards, a pathological fear of touching anything nuclear.

Julius understood that Allan understood, and hurried to his rescue. ‘Safest of all, of course, would be if the knowledge was kept with the EU, wouldn’t you say, Allan?’

‘There you go being so clever again, Julius, as only you can be. When you choose to show that side of yourself. Please feel free to do so more often. But finding a strong EU leader who is prepared to take responsibility for world peace is easier said than done. Perhaps that new Frenchman, Macron?’

‘Macron?’ Julius said earnestly, although he was still playing along.

‘Yes, he won the presidential election the other day. Didn’t I mention that? No, of course not. You only get surlier when someone tries to enlighten you. The special thing about Macron is that he’s neither left nor right. Or he’s both. I’m not quite sure how that works, but it sounds nice and balanced.’

UN Ambassador Breitner was no dummy. What was more, he had been on his guard ever since a few minutes ago. Yet he fell into the trap. ‘Well, it just so happens that Chancellor Merkel is coming to Washington in two days. Do you suppose she would suffice as guarantor? Of world peace, I mean?’

Julius let Allan get in the crucial jab.

‘Why, Konrad! You’re a genius! Are you saying you’re prepared to hand over our nuclear weapons-tainted briefcase to Angela Merkel? Why didn’t we think of her?’

Ambassador Breitner smiled humbly. ‘What are friends for? Cheers, boys.’

The ambassador was the only one with anything left in his glass, but it still worked.

Now, the contents of the briefcase might have been encased in lead, but who knew what sort of instruments could be found at American security checkpoints? No one would be surprised to find that radioactivity warning lights started blinking here and there. A potential life sentence at Guantánamo was not something Allan and Julius wished upon their new-found friend Konrad. Especially since he was picking up the tab for the evening.

‘But we have a problem,’ said Allan.

And he explained that the nuclear weapons-related documents had been hidden in a lead-lined package and that it might cause problems for the ambassador at airport security. Not to mention what would happen if officials at JFK got it into their heads to take a closer look at said package.

‘Oh?’ said Ambassador Breitner, doubtfully.

‘Given what we’ve just said, may we suggest that you take a taxi to Washington, Ambassador? Julius and I can cover the cost, but that will likely require a payment plan. We’re a bit hard up just now.’

‘Extremely hard up,’ said Julius.

If the ambassador went by road to the German embassy, Allan and Julius’s white lie wouldn’t be discovered until he arrived. Once he’d carried the briefcase through the gates, it would be too late. A global scandal would have been averted (since no one would expect the Germans to call a press conference on the matter) and Ambassador Breitner would get off with an internal scolding. And perhaps dismissal. But not Guantánamo.

‘A taxi?’ said Ambassador Breitner. ‘Why not? Certainly, now that I think about it. And don’t worry about the fee. I’ll be saving the cost of the flight.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Allan. ‘Then I think that’s enough saving the world for today. Time for another round before we all get stiff.’

It had taken six fruit vodkas each to accompany the beer and schnitzel. When Ambassador Breitner excused himself to visit the cloakroom, Allan and Julius had the chance to exchange a few words.

‘Imagine you coming up with something like this,’ Allan said encouragingly.

‘Although he’s a good man, is Konrad. It’s too bad we’re making trouble for him,’ said Julius.

Allan absorbed his friend’s musings. ‘That can be remedied,’ he said.

Then he swiped a paper napkin and asked the waitress for a pen. Julius wondered what Allan had cooked up and was told that it might help their new-found friend Konrad if the briefcase contained not only enriched uranium but also a greeting to the big cheese.

‘Merkel?’