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

secretary,’ the third secretary attempted.
    ‘And what conclusions do you draw from that?’
     
    War hero Winston Churchill had somewhat unexpectedly lost the British elections in 1945, the British people’s gratitude having run out.
    But Churchill planned his revenge and marked time by travelling the world. The former prime minister suspected that the Labour incompetent who now governed Great Britain would introduce a planned economy at the same time as handing over the Empire to people who couldn’t administer it.
    Take British India for example, which was now on its way to falling to bits. Hindus and Muslims could not get along, and in the middle sat that damned Mahatma Gandhi with his legs crossed, having stopped eating because he was dissatisfied with something. What sort of war strategy was that? How far would they have got with such a strategy against the Nazi bombing raids over England?
    It was not quite as bad in British East Africa, not yet, but it was only a matter of time before the Africans also wanted to become their own masters.
    Churchill understood that not everything could remain as it was, but nevertheless the Empire needed a leader who could announce what was needed, and do so with authority. They did not need a sneaky socialist like Clement Attlee.
    As regards India, the battle was lost, Churchill knew that. It had been developing that way for many years, and during the war it had been necessary to send signals about future independence to the Indians so that in the midst of the struggle for survival the British would not also have to deal with a civil war.
    But in many other places there was still plenty of time to stop the process. Churchill’s plan for the autumn was to travel to Kenya and evaluate the situation. But first he would drop in on Tehran and drink tea with the shah.
    He had the misfortune to land amidst chaos. The day before, something had exploded at the department for domestic intelligence and security. The entire building had collapsed and burned up. The idiot of a police chief had evidently died in the explosion too, the same man who had previously been clumsy enough to use his harsh methods on innocent British Embassy staff.
    The police chief was no great loss, but apparently the shah’s only bulletproof car had been consumed by the flames too, and this led to a much shorter meeting between the shah andChurchill than had first been envisaged, and for reasons of security it took place at the airport.
    Nevertheless, it was a good thing that the visit came off. According to the shah the situation was under control. The explosion at the headquarters of the secret police was something of a bother, and so far they couldn’t say anything about the cause. But the shah could live with the fact that the police chief had died in the explosion. The man was beginning to lose his touch.
    So they had a stable political situation. They were about to appoint a new chief for the secret police. And they were seeing record results for the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company. Oil provided fantastic wealth to both England and Iran. Mainly England, if the truth be told, but that was only fair because Iran’s sole contribution to the project was cheap labour – and of course the oil itself.
    ‘Mainly peace and prosperity in Iran then,’ Winston Churchill said to the Swedish military attaché who had been assigned a place in the plane on the way back to London.
    ‘Glad to hear that you are satisfied, Mr Churchill,’ Allan answered, adding that he thought Churchill was looking well.
     
    Allan finally landed at Stockholm’s Bromma airport, after a stopover in London, and stood on Swedish soil for the first time in eleven years. It was late in December 1947, and the weather was the usual for that time of year.
    In the arrivals hall, a young man was waiting for Allan. He said he was Prime Minister Erlander’s assistant and that the PM wished to meet Allan as soon as possible, if that could be arranged.
    Allan thought it could, and he willingly followed the assistant, who proudly invited Allan to sit in the brand new government car, a black, shiny Volvo PV 444.
    ‘Have you ever seen anything so swanky, Mr Karlsson?’ asked the assistant, who was interested in cars. ‘Forty-four horsepower!’
    ‘I saw a really nice wine-red DeSoto last week,’ Allan answered. ‘But your car is in better condition.’
    The drive took Allan to the centre of Stockholm and he looked around him with interest. To