Grantville Gazette 43

  "You're making it very difficult for people to talk to you, you know."

  "Which explains why there are people trying to bump into me whenever I go out the door. Why do you think I swim so early in the day?"

  Ernst smiled. "I thought that was so nobody could see the fat walrus thrashing about in the water?"

  George had to grin at the reference to something he'd said last year. He'd never actually been that fat, but the thrashing about bit had been spot on. "I've improved a lot since last year. Matt's even challenged me to a race."

  Ernst brows shot up. "I never took Matt for a guy who'd go for easy victories."

  "He isn't. He'll be swimming a half-mile while I only do a quarter-mile."

  "He'll still beat you hollow," Ernst said with confidence. "I'll write Derek a note asking for an appointment then."

  "I might make a race of it," George protested half-hearted. He was just as sure as Ernst that Matt would beat him, but now he was more determined than ever to at least make him work for his victory.

  A few hours later

  George was bent over his desk trying to sketch a design for a jetboat that might fit Matt's requirements. It had to be big enough to carry a crew and at least four men and their equipment. That made for a fairly big boat. He wasn't sure that the available engines would be up to providing the required speed.

  Anna popped her head round the door. "Ernst, George, Derek Modi is here, and he's brought a couple of people with him."

  Ernst looked across to the clock on the wall. "That was quick."

  George flicked back his cuff to check his watch. "He would have had to leave the moment he got your note. I wonder why? Who's he got with him?" he asked Anna.

  "A couple of Norwegians. A woman about my age and a young lad about Matt's age."

  "We're only delaying finding out what they want. Show them in Anna," Ernst said as he got to his feet, ready to greet Derek and his companions when they entered. George, with less experience dealing with clients, needed a nudge from Ernst before he got to his feet.

  "Ernst, it's good to see you again. Your note arrived at an opportune time. Inger here was all ready to head off to Grantville to find George," Derek said as he and his companions were ushered into the office.

  George turned to greet the woman. She stared at him as if he was a specimen under an entomologist's magnifying glass. "Why were you looking for me?"

  "You have my money," Inger said.

  "Lady, the only money I have is my own."

  "You do have my money. That fool Jürgen von Neustadt soaked up all the funds I'd been counting on and blew it all on your silly toy boat."

  George was deeply offended that his Outlaw was being insulted. He met her glare with one of his own. "That's my Outlaw you're talking about."

  "It wasn't your Outlaw. It was a down-time copy built using salvaged up-time fittings, and it is a silly waste of money. What practical use is it?"

  George winced. He'd been asked similar questions often enough about his Outlaw back up-time. Of course it had no real practical use. You didn't buy something like the Outlaw for practical reasons. You bought it because you loved speed and all the envious looks from less fortunate mortals you got every time you took her out. And of course, there was the fact that expensive boats, like expensive cars, attracted women. That argument probably wouldn't sway the woman, so deciding silence was the safest option, he didn't say anything.

  "Herr von Neustadt has won several major contracts after taking potential clients out in his new speedboat," Kristjan said.

  Inger turned on her nephew, and her eyes sent daggers. "Did I ask you to speak?"

  For a moment Kristjan's jaw bobbled, but he manfully clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

  "Then don't. You are with me to learn. Watch and listen, and only speak when told to. Do you understand?"

  There was a long silence, finally broken by Derek "The reason we're here, George, is we want you to invest in a little project I'm involved with."

  ****

  Three hours later, as Ernst showed Derek, Inger, and Kristjan out George lay back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Had he really done that? Had he really just bought himself a half-share of a hydro-electric development?

  "You really have over ten million dollars?" Ernst asked when he returned.

  Yep, I really do. George gave Ernst a wry smile. "Yes, and don't worry. I can do it without touching my investment in the boatyard." The sudden relaxing of Ernst's body told George his friend had been worried.

  "How come? I thought you only went to the lawyers when the doctor told you to stop working at the mine and you got worried about starving to death."

  "That's right, but I've still got just over nine million from my compensation in the bank . . . "

  "Which leaves you still a million shy of the ten you committed yourself to. So, where's it coming from?"

  "I own a house in Grantville. It's being rented out at the moment, for just under ten thousand a month. I should be able to borrow a million against it, and the rent can finance the mortgage."

  "You own a house that earns you ten thousand dollars a month, and you were worried about starving if you couldn't work?"

  George winced. It did sound a bit strange when you said it like that. "I was living in it then," he protested.

  "But still, couldn't you have let rooms or something?"

  "I like my privacy," George muttered.

  "Even if it means you starve to death?"

  "But it didn't come to that. I went to see Waffler, Wiesel, and Finck about getting compensation for my boat and they took care of any fears I had of starving."

  Ernst nodded. "You don't need the profits Inger has cast under your nose, so why are you risking everything to invest in her hydro-electric scheme?"

  "That's a really good question, Ernst, and as soon as I think of an answer, I'll tell you."

  "What? You just decided to invest everything you own in a scheme you don't really understand on a whim?"

  George shrugged. He couldn't really explain why he'd decided to invest in Derek and Inger's scheme. Maybe Derek's promise to work on the designs for a water-jet unit had something to do with it. "At least when word gets out I've committed everything to Glomfjord Hydro, it'll stop the begging letters and the constant invitations to meet someone's daughter or granddaughter."

  The day of the big race

  It was a cool late April morning and George was already wondering what he'd got himself into, other than really cold water. Even his goose-pimples had goose-pimples. A quarter of a mile away he could see Matt had finally reached his starting position. George pulled his swim goggles over his eyes and waited for Matt to start the race.

  Matt's arm went up once, twice, three times. As it came down for the third time George turned and dived into the water. He had to take a breath every time he lifted his right arm, but he battled on. Every hundred strokes he popped his head up to check he was still heading for the buoy that was the finish. He was closing in on it when he saw Matt out of the corner of his eye. The sly so-and-so was trying to take advantage of his blind side by passing on his left.

  George intensified his efforts. He didn't surge ahead. That would have been too much to expect, but it did slow down the rate at which Matt was catching him. He became blind to anything other than exerting maximum effort to get to the buoy before Matt.

  He hit it and immediately popped his head up, looking for Matt. He didn't have to look far, as Matt was treading water with one hand on the buoy.

  "A draw, I think," Matt said.

  George didn't think so. While he was hanging on to the buoy for dear life, trying to catch his breath, Matt had enough breath to talk. "You're not even breathing heavily," he managed to say.

  Matt just grinned. "Can you make it back to the dock on your own, or do you need a tow?"

  "I can make it," George said with more bravado than truth. He rolled onto his back and set off towards the dock with a slow sidestroke. Ma
tt stayed with him all the way.

  George was trembling with fatigue when he finally made it to the landing stage. He latched onto the decking and tried to lever himself up, but he couldn't. He only had to lift himself maybe a foot out of the water, but he didn't have the energy. He dropped back into the water to try again. Strong hands grabbed his wrists and suddenly he was hauled onto the landing stage.

  "You should have let me give you a tow," Matt said as he lowered George so he could sit on the landing stage with his legs dangling in the water.

  "I should have known better than to let you talk me into a race," George muttered.

  Matt tossed George his towel. "There's no gain without pain. Just think, next time you might even beat me."

  The mention of pain reminded George how much his muscles hurt, and he knew what they were like now was going to be nothing compared to what they'd like tomorrow. "I probably won't be able to swim tomorrow."

  "What? And disappoint your adoring fans?"

  George looked up to check out the aforementioned adoring fans. He didn't recognize most of them. But as he hadn't been accepting any invitations to any parties, that wasn't surprising. He finished drying himself and pulled on his clothes and boots. "I was hoping that they might have given up when they heard I've put everything I own into some harebrained scheme in the back of beyond."

  "If you think that you can't have seen last night's Informer."

  "The Informer?" George swallowed. The Informer, or The Lübeck Informer to give the paper its full name, was Lübeck's Financial Times. It printed well thought-out, well-researched business information, or at least that's what Ernst claimed. Most of the stuff went right over George's head, but the cartoons were always good.

  "You made the front page, the editorial, and the cartoon," Matt said, with a little too much relish for George's comfort.

  "The Glomfjord Hydro deal?" George said, hoping it wasn't.

  "Yes. And the Informer seems to think you're onto a real winner."

  "Oh hell!" George looked around again. The two working girls he'd done business with previously waved in their usual very friendly manner, which upset one or two of the other women, before sauntering off, sure in the knowledge George had seen them. Unfortunately, nobody else made to follow their lead. If anything, the remaining audience seemed emboldened by their departure. "When did you say you were going to North Friesland?"

  "You want to tag along?"

  "If you'll have me," George said hopefully.

  "You'll have to work your way. What special skills do you have?"

  George thought for a moment about what skills might appeal to a dive team. "I've kept a '76 Ford F-150 on the road for over twenty-five years."

  "That sounds pretty good. Anything else?"

  "I've worked with the hot-bulb engines Ernst puts in his Higgins boats," he said hopefully.

  "You know how to maintain the hot-bulb engines? That's great!"

  Encouraged, George revealed yet another string to his bow. "Not only can I strip one, I know how to start the monsters."

  Matt reached out a hand. "You're hired. A guilder a day, plus full board."

  "You don't have to pay me," George protested.

  "If you're aboard a dive team vessel, you have to sign on. If you sign on, you get paid." Matt shrugged. "You can always use the money to buy the others drinks, but you have to be paid."

  "I'm not joining the navy."

  "Nope. You'll be a civilian contractor."

  "How soon can we leave?"

  Matt looked around before smiling at George. "I'll see if we can't bring our departure forward."

  A couple of days later

  Anna Kierstead knew Inger Mogensdotter from way back. She'd been at school with Maren Mogensdotter, Inger's younger sister, and although she'd never actually met Inger, she'd heard all about her from Maren. She had a fair idea why Inger had turned up at the office. "How can I help you, Inger?"

  Inger tried to look past Anna into the main office. "I was hoping to talk to George Watson."

  I bet you were, Anna thought. "I'm sorry, but you've just missed him."

  "When do you expect him back?"

  "Not for several weeks. He's signed on with the USE Navy's dive team as a maintenance contractor."

  Inger stopped trying to look past Anna and stared straight at her. "Why would a man with his money want to do menial work like that?"

  "George is an up-timer, and he seems to like getting dirty fooling around with engines. He was quite a lot of help when Ernst was trying to get the Outlaw II running. George said he did all his own maintenance on the original vessel."

  "Men!" Inger muttered before starting to pace around the room. "I was hoping that he would join me on a visit to Glomfjord."

  "And have him at your mercy while you work on him?" Anna smiled. "You'll catch cold trying to marry George to anyone, let alone one of your family. George is a bit of a loner, Inger. I don't think he has more than a nodding acquaintance with anybody in Travemünde beyond me, Ernst, and the other people at the boat yard, oh, and the young up-timer in charge of the navy's dive team, Matt Tisdel."

  "How is that possible? He's been here how long? Six months? He must know more people than that?"

  "He works at it," Anna said. "He's politely declined every invitation he's received, and he hardly goes out in the evenings."

  "You're not suggesting that he doesn't visit the tavern . . . you are?" she said in response to Anna's nod. "That's just not natural," Inger muttered.

  "It's just the way George is."

  "I don't like it," Inger announced. "I don't like the fact that half of Glomfjord Hydro resides outside the family."

  "Ernst said you didn't have a lot of choice. He said George had you over a barrel. You needed a lot of money fast and he wasn't prepared to invest unless he had at least half the business."

  "But I wouldn't have agreed if I had known I was dealing with some sort of religious fanatic."

  "Oh, George isn't the slightest bit religious. He excuses himself by saying he doesn't really like people, so he prefers not to have anything to do with them."

  "So instead he is a hermit." Inger shook her head. "I think I preferred the religious fanatic."

  Somewhere in the Kattegat, a few days later

  George stood on the deck of the Red Lion waiting for the other swimmers to get clear before diving in to join them. The water was cold, but Matt soon had everyone warmed up by having them swim between the Red Lion and the Crab. Those two vessels—one could hardly call them ships—comprised Matt's command. Either one of the sailing barges would have been more than adequate to service the dive team, if the dive team was operating with the fleet. However, as Matt had been at pains to point out when George had laughed at the size of his command, the dive team had never operated with the fleet. As such, it needed its own support vessel to provide accommodation and storage. That meant Matt's command consisted of two ships, and even though he commanded under a dozen men, it still fitted the definition of an independent flotilla under Admiral Simpson's table of organization. And under that same table of organization, the minimum rank for a commander of an independent flotilla was lieutenant commander. Matt, George was sure, must be laughing all the way to the bank.

  George was happy to see that he was easily keeping up with the other swimmers. Matt, of course,was hardly trying. But the other two, Paulus, Matt's number two diver, and Friedrich, an apprentice diver, seemed to be struggling to match even Matt's reduced pace. Suddenly Matt, who'd stopped to check on his charges, hit the water hard, three times—the signal for people to stop swimming.

  "What's the problem?" George asked as soon as he got close enough to talk.

  Matt pointed to the Red Lion, where one of the waving crew was waving a signal flag. "I'm afraid we're going to have to cut this swim short. Everyone, back to the Red Lion."

  Strangely enough, the only people to seem even slightly upset by the sudden stop to their swim were Matt, and to a much lesser
extent, George. He got the impression that the others were only swimming because Matt insisted.

  Back at the Red Lion, George scampered up the ladder with Matt close behind. The moment he had both feet firmly on the deck he was presented with a dry towel. He started using it immediately, and hurried down below. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Matt was following, but he'd stopped to talk to the radio operator and the Red Lion 's captain.

  Dressed and warm again, George joined the others in the mess. On a normal sailing barge the space would barely accommodate the crew of three—two men and a dog—but the Red Lion had been modified to turn her into a depot ship for the dive team. That meant the mess was big enough for everyone to sit.

  "There has been a change in our orders," Matt announced. That was met with attentive silence. "We're to head for Arendal, where we are to assist in a salvage operation." Matt looked around. "Any questions?"

  "What are we to salvage?" Paulus asked.

  "I don't know yet." Matt passed Paulus the message flimsy. "I guess we'll find out when we get there."

  "It must be something big if we're to go there instead of Husum," Friedrich said.

  Husum was to have been their base of operations for the salvage work in North Friesland. "I think the time for urgency at Husum is well and truly past, Friedrich. Anything that is still salvageable now will still be salvagable in a couple of weeks' time."

  "You only expect to be at Arendal for a couple of weeks?" George asked.

  Matt shrugged. "We'll know for sure when we get there."

  Arendal

  George sat cross-legged on the deck of the Red Lion in merino-wool combat-trousers and not a lot else, enjoying the sun on his back while he got filthy working on one of the spare compressors. That was what he'd been employed to do, and he couldn't have been happier. Suddenly the ship's dog shot to her feet and ran over to the side of the boat. George, as the only human aboard her at the moment, was the guard. He reached under his legs for the pistol he'd been ordered to always keep close. As he rose to his feet he tucked it in to the waistband at the small of his back. Only then did he approach the gunwale to see what had attracted Nixie. He was guessing that because the little scamp wasn't barking her head off, it was her crewmates returning from shore. A quick glance over the side told him he'd guessed right.