The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared

though he knew the rules, he let out a deep growl. Discovering the Alsatian on the veranda, Bucket instinctively took two steps backwards, raised his revolver and looked as if he was ready to shoot.
    At that point Allan’s hundred-year-old brain gave birth to an idea. It was a wild idea, and there was an evident risk that he would get shot in the process, unless of course he really was immortal after all. He took a deep breath and with a naive smile on his lips, he walked straight towards the troublemaker. And he said in his most doddery voice:
    ‘That really is one hell of a nice pistol you’ve got there. Is it real? Can I hold it?’
    Benny, Julius and The Beauty all thought that the geriatric had lost his marbles.
    ‘Stop, Allan!’ Benny shouted out.
    ‘Yeah, stop, you old bastard, or I’ll shoot you,’ said Bucket.
    But Allan kept shuffling towards him. Bucket took a step backwards, stretched out his hand with the revolver even more threateningly towards Allan, and then… he did it.
    If you’ve ever stepped in a heap of sticky, very fresh, elephant shit then you’ll know it’s virtually impossible to keep your balance. Bucket didn’t know, but he quickly learned. His back foot slipped, Bucket tried to counter this with his hands, and fell helplessly, landing softly on his back.
    ‘Sit, Sonya, sit!’ said Allan as the final part of his daring plan.
    ‘No, damn it, Sonya, don’t sit,’ shouted The Beauty, who suddenly realised what was about to happen.
    ‘Fucking hell,’ said Bucket where he lay on his back in the elephant’s excrement.
    Sonya, who stood with her back to them all, had clearly and distinctly heard Allan’s command. And the old man was nice to her, and she liked to do as he wanted. Besides, his benefactor andfeeder had confirmed the order. The function of the word ‘Don’t’ to countermand an order was not something Sonya had ever grasped.
    So Sonya sat down. Her bottom landed on something soft and warm, with a dull crushing sound and something that sounded like a squeak, before complete silence reigned. Sonya was ready for another apple.
    ‘There went number two,’ said Julius.
    ‘Jesus, bloody, fucking Christ,’ said The Beauty.
    ‘Yuck,’ said Benny.
    ‘Here’s an apple, Sonya,’ said Allan.
    Henrik ‘Bucket’ Hultén didn’t say anything at all.
     
    The Boss waited for three hours for Bucket to get in touch again. Then he decided that something had happened to that good-for-nothing. The Boss found it desperately hard to understand why people didn’t just do as he said, and nothing more.
    Time to deal with it all himself, that much was obvious. The Boss began by checking the number plate that Bucket had given him. It didn’t take many minutes to ascertain via the national vehicle registry that it referred to a red VW.

Chapter 11
    1945–47
    If it is possible to become stone cold sober instantly after having just downed a whole bottle of tequila, then that was what Vice President Harry S. Truman did.
    The news of President Roosevelt’s sudden demise meant that the vice president had to conclude the pleasant dinner with Allan and fly immediately to Washington. Allan was left behind in the restaurant to argue with the head waiter about the bill. In the end, the head waiter accepted Allan’s argument that the future President of the United States was probably reasonably creditworthy and that, in any case, the head waiter now knew his address.
    Allan took a refreshing walk back to the lab and resumed his duties as coffeemaker and assistant to America’s foremost physicists, mathematicians and chemists, even though they now felt somewhat embarrassed in Allan’s company. The atmosphere was uncomfortable and after a few weeks Allan was considering whether to move on. A telephone call from Washington settled the matter:
    ‘Hi, Allan, it’s Harry.’
    ‘Which Harry?’
    ‘Truman, Allan. Harry S. Truman, the president, damn it!’
    ‘How nice! That was a good meal we had, Mr President, thank you. I hope you weren’t required to fly the plane home?’
    No, the president had not. Despite the gravity of the situation, he had instead passed out on a sofa in Air Force Two and had not woken up again until it was time to land five hours later.
    But now, Harry Truman had some things to deal with that he had inherited from his predecessor, and for one of thesethe president might need Allan’s help, if Allan thought that possible?
    Allan certainly did, and the next