Honor Among Thieves

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bertil Pedersson, the chief engineer of Svenhalte AC, was at the factory gate in Kalmar to greet Mr. Riffat and Mr. Bernstrom when the two men arrived that morning. He had received a fax from the United Nations the previous day confirming their flight times to Stockholm, and had checked with the arrivals desk at the airport to be informed that their plane had touched down only a few minutes late.

As they stepped out of their car, Mr. Pedersson came forward, shook hands with both men and introduced himself.

“We are pleased to meet you at last, Mr. Pedersson,” said the shorter of the two men, “and grateful to you for making the time to see us at such short notice.”

“Well, to be frank with you, Mr. Riffat, it came as quite a surprise to us when the United Nations lifted the restrictions on Madame Bertha.”

“‘Madame Bertha?’”

“Yes, that is how we at the factory refer to the safe. I promise you, gentlemen, that despite your neglect, she has been a good girl. Many people have come to admire her, but nobody touches,” Mr. Pedersson said laughing. “But I feel sure that after such a long journey you will want to see her for yourself, Mr. Riffat.”

The short, dark-haired man nodded, and they both accompanied Pedersson as he led them across the yard.

“You responded most quickly to the UN’s sudden change of heart, Mr. Riffat.”

“Yes, our leader had given orders that the safe should be delivered to Baghdad the moment the embargo was lifted.”

Pedersson laughed again. “I fear that may not be so easy,” he said once they reached the other side of the yard. “Madame Bertha was not built for speed, as you are about to discover.”

The three men continued to walk towards a large, apparently derelict building, and Pedersson strode through an opening where there must once have been a door. It was so dark inside that the two foreigners were unable to see more than a few feet in front of them. Pedersson switched on a single light, which was followed by what sounded like the sigh of an unrequited lover.

“Mr. Riffat, Mr. Bernstrom, allow me to introduce you to Madame Bertha.” The two men stared at the massive structure that stood majestically in the middle of the old warehouse floor.

“Before I make a formal introduction,” Pedersson continued, “first let me tell you Madame Bertha’s vital statistics. She is nine feet tall, seven feet wide and eight feet deep. She is also thicker-skinned than any politician, about six inches of solid steel to be precise, and she weighs over five tons. She was built by a specialist designer, three craftsmen and eight engineers. Her gestation from conception to delivery was eighteen months. But then,” he whispered, “to be fair, she is almost the size of an elephant. I lower my voice only because she can hear every word I say, and I have no wish to offend her.”

Mr. Pedersson did not see the puzzled looks that came over

the faces of his two visitors. “But, gentlemen, you have only seen her exterior, and I can promise you that what she has to offer is more than skin deep.

“First, I must tell you that Madame Bertha will not allow anyone to enter her without a personal introduction. She is, gentlemen, not a promiscuous lady, despite what you may have been told about the Swedes. She requires to know three things about you before she will consider revealing her innermost parts.”

Although the two guests remained puzzled as to what he meant, they did not interrupt Mr. Pedersson’s steady flow.

“And so, gentlemen, to begin with you must study Bertha’s chest. You will observe three red lights above three small dials. By knowing the six-number code on all three dials, you will be able to turn one of the lights from red to green. Allow me to demonstrate. First number to the right, second to the left, third to the right, fourth to the left, fifth to the right, sixth to the left. The first number for the first dial is zero, the second is four, the third is two, the fourth eight, the fifth three and the sixth seven. Zero-four-two-eight-three-seven.”

“The date of Sayedi’s birthday,” said the tall, fair-haired visitor.

“Yes, I worked that one out, Mr. Bernstrom,” said Pedersson. “The second,” he said, turning his attention to the middle dial, “is zero-seven-one-six-seven-nine.” He turned the final number to the left.

“The day Sayedi became President.”

“We also managed that one, Mr. Riffat. But I confess the third sequence fooled us completely. No doubt you will know what our client has planned for that particular day.” Mr. Pedersson began twirling the third dial: zero-seven-zero-four-nine-three.

Pedersson looked hopefully towards Mr. Bernstrom, who shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve no idea,” he lied.

“You will now note, gentlemen, that after entering the correct figures on all three dials, only one of Madame Bertha’s lights has turned green, while two still remain obstinately red. But now that you have discovered her three codes, she will consider a more personal relationship. You will observe that below the three dials there is painted a small white square about the size of your hand. Watch carefully.” Pedersson took a pace forward and placed his right hand firmly on the white square. He left it there for several seconds, until the second light turned green.

“Even when she knows your palm print, she still won’t open her heart. Not until I have spoken to her. If you look even more closely, gentlemen, you will see that the white square conceals a thin wire mesh, which houses a voice activator.” Both men stepped forward to look.

“At the present time, Bertha is programmed to react only to my vocal cords. It doesn’t matter what I say, because as soon as she recognizes the voice, the third light will turn green. But she will not even consider listening to me unless the first two lights are already green.”

Pedersson stepped forward and placed his lips opposite the wire mesh. “Two gentlemen have come from America to see you, and desire to know what you look like inside.”

Even before he had finished the sentence, the third red light had flicked to green, and a noisy unclamping sound could be heard.

“Now, gentlemen, we come to the part of the demonstration of which my company is particularly proud. The door, which weighs over a ton, is nevertheless capable of being opened by a small child. Our company has developed a system of phosphor-bronze bearings that are a decade ahead of their time. Please, Mr. Riffat, why don’t you try for yourself?”