Free The Girl Who Saved the King of Sweden by Jonas Jonasson Page A

poisoning, all three of us. Or at least two of us.’
    By now, Nombeko had ceased being surprised by whatever the Chinese girls did or said, but this was still exceptional. She asked the big sister for details about what she’d just said so that Nombeko wouldn’t have to wonder for the rest of her life. However long that might be.
    Well, before the Chinese girls and their mother started working in the lucrative counterfeiting industry, their mother had run a dog cemetery right next to the white neighbourhood of Parktown West outside Johannesburg. Business was bad; dogs ate as well and as nutritiously as people generally did in that area, so they lived far too long. But then their mother realized that the big sister and the middle sister could increase their turnover by putting out poisoned dog food here and there in the surrounding parks, where the whites’ poodles and Pekinese ran free. At the time, the little sister was too young and might easily have got it into her head to taste the dog food if she got hold of it.
    In a short time the owner of the dog cemetery had twice as much to do. And the family would probably still be making a good living today, if only they hadn’t become, to tell the truth, a bit too greedy. Because when there were more dead dogs in the park than living ones, those white racists had pointed straight at the only Chink in the area and her daughters.
    ‘Yes, that was certainly prejudiced of them,’ said Nombeko.
    Their mother had had to pack her bags quickly, and she hid herself and her children in central Johannesburg and changed careers.
    That was a few years ago now, but the girls could probably remember the various ways of dosing dog food.
    ‘Well, now we’re talking about eight dogs – and about poisoning them just enough,’ said Nombeko. ‘So they get a little bit sick for a day or two. No more than that.’
    ‘Sounds like a typical case of antifreeze poisoning,’ said the middle sister.
    ‘I was just thinking the same thing,’ said the big sister.
    And then they argued about the appropriate dose. The middle sister thought that a cup and a half should do, but the big sister pointed out that they were dealing with large German shepherds here, not some little Chihuahua.
    In the end, the girls agreed that two cups was the right amount to put the dogs in a dreadful condition until the next day.
    The girls approached the problem in such a carefree manner that Nombeko already regretted asking for their help. Didn’t they realize how much trouble they would be in when the poisoned dog food was traced back to them?
    ‘Nah,’ said the little sister. ‘It will all work out. We’ll have to start by ordering a bottle of antifreeze, otherwise we can’t poison anything.’
    Now Nombeko was twice as regretful. Didn’t they realize that the security personnel would figure out it was them in just a few minutes, once they discovered what had been added to their usual shopping list?
    And then Nombeko thought of something.
    ‘Wait a minute,’ she said. ‘Don’t do anything until I get back. Nothing!’
    The girls watched Nombeko go in surprise. What was she up to?
    The fact was that Nombeko had thought of something she’d read in one of the research director’s countless reports to the engineer. It wasn’t about antifreeze, but ethylene glycol. It said in the report that the researchers were experimenting with liquids that had a boiling point of over one hundred degrees Celsius in order to gain a few tenths of a second by raising the temperature at which critical mass would be reached. That was where the ethylene glycol came in. Didn’t antifreeze and ethylene glycol have similar properties?
    If the research facility’s library was at its worst when it came to the latest news, it was at its best when it came to more general information. Such as confirmation that ethylene glycol and antifreeze were more than almost the same thing. They were the same thing.
    Nombeko borrowed two of the