Tracy stared at her husband. That was a very good question. Somewhere, there was something like five tons of sphalerite. If Dr. Gribbleflotz could extract the zinc, then maybe all was not lost. "Yes, Frau. What is Dr. Gribbleflotz doing with all that ore?"
"Please, follow me and I will show you."
Tracy and Ted followed Frau Mittelhausen to the wing where Tracy had seen Michael and Kurt.
They were greeted by silence when they entered the building. Young men and women lining the room turned and looked at them. Accusing looks were directed towards Frau Mittelhausen.
Michael Siebenhorn made his way towards them. "Frau Kubiak, Herr Kubiak. How can I help you?"
"We would like to know what is being done with the sphalerite that was delivered here late last year."
With a guilty look at both Ted and Tracy, Michael called for the laborants to return to work. "You know then? It wasn't Dr. Gribbleflotz' fault. It was an honest mistake."
"Michael, what have you been doing with the ore?" Ted asked impatiently.
"We have been refining it."
Tracy perked up. "All of it? You've refined all of that ore?"
"Nearly. We are on the last couple of bushel baskets now. Come, follow me and I will show you what we have."
Bubbling with hope, Tracy dragged Ted along as she followed Michael. Michael unlocked the door to the storeroom and stood back to let them look at the treasure within.
"What's in those big bottles?" Ted asked.
"Strong oil of vitriol. Actually, very strong oil of vitriol. We think it is over ninety percent pure. Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz is still testing it."
"How much do you have?"
"About fifteen hogsheads, Herr Kubiak."
"And the metallic zinc?"
"About four thousand Pfundt of zinken, Herr Kubiak."
Ted laughed. "Zinken? Is that what Dr. Gribbleflotz is calling it?"
"Yes, Herr Kubiak. It is in memory of his great grandfather, Paracelsus. Zinken is the name Paracelsus gave the metal."
Ted nodded. He drew out a pencil and paper and began recording the contents of the store room. "Anything else?"
Michael smiled. "Yes, Herr Kubiak. There is also some four hundred guilders worth of other metals and compounds."
Ted and Tracy tried to calculate the worth of the goods. "The value of everything you extracted from the ore is probably enough to cover the cost of it, with something left over. But, what about the cost of recovery? What were those costs?"
Michael shrugged. "Too much, I am sure, Frau Kubiak. We worked with great haste, and with considerable secrecy. Both of which added to our costs. However, we have been developing our technology. We now know how to recover the metals and compounds from sphalerite."
"And what good is this technology, Michael?" Tracy asked.
Smiling smugly, Michael guided them out of the storeroom. "Frau Kubiak. With our technology we can smelt zinken. Other people . . ." Michael paused to look at Ted and Tracy. "Did you read about the doctor on the Jena faculty who isolated the zinken?" They nodded. "Other people might know the secret of zinken, but they do not know how to recover not only the zinken, but the sulphur and the other metals and compounds. We at HDG Enterprizes have developed the necessary technology. The more we can recover from the processing of the sphalerite, the more economic the process becomes. We have already sent out feelers for partners. We believe we can construct a smelter outside the city of Halle. There is ample coal near the city that can be used to smelt the ore, and transport of the sphalerite from the Harz Mountains should be affordable, because we can use barges to float the ore down the river to Halle."
"Nice. But why the secrecy? Why didn't you notify Tracy and me?"
"It is the Herr Doctor. We had to prove the technology first, otherwise Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz could have been a laughing stock. At least, that's how it all started." Michael smiled in reminisance. "There is also the fact that we currently hold the largest supply of pure metallic zinken in Europe. We have an agent exploring the prospects of 'selling short.' We think we will be able to maintain the current high price as long as people don't know we are producing zinken locally."
Tracy snorted. "How do you hope to keep your activities quiet? Surely people will see your production facilities?"
Michael smiled. "That is the thing with the new technology, Frau Kubiak. That academic, he talked of calamine. We are using sphalerite. If we used calamine, then people might suspect we were making zinken. But sphalerite? From sphalerite people will see us making and selling oil of vitriol. It is an important and valuable chemical. If we are careful, we can keep the zinken processing secret." Michael's smile grew triumphant. "And, of course, that will keep the local price high. High enough for the maximum profit."
"What about those partners you were talking about?"
"Only a few of them know of the zinken. Most of the potential partners are either miners looking to sell their ore, or people interested in the oil of vitriol and other by-products. Only fifteen people, including you two, know of the zinken."
Ted and Tracy exchanged glances, then turned their attention back to Michael. "You really think you can make a going concern of a zinken smelter?" Michael nodded in answer. "Then . . ." Ted turned to check that Tracy agreed. She nodded. "How can we help?"
"Money." Michael rolled his eyes. "And if possible, Herr Kubiak, can you get some more of those 'catalytic converters?'"
"How much money?" Tracy asked.
"What do you want the catalytic converters for?" Ted asked.
"The converters improve the yield of the oil of vitriol, Herr Kubiak. Frau Kubiak, we don't know how much money, but it will be a lot. We may have to ask that you mortgage the HDG Enterprizes facility and the ammonia facility. Mining and mineral processing is very expensive. However, the potential returns are enormous."
* * *
"You know, Trace, I wouldn't have thought Dr. Phil had it in him to build up that kind of personal loyalty."
Tracy looked back over her shoulder at the HDG Enterprizes facility. "It was a bit of a surprise. Maybe there's more to our Dr. Phil than meets the eye."
Essen Steel, Part 1
Crucibellus
By Kim Mackey
Chapter One
By early morning they had passed beyond the siege lines and lay hidden in a copse of woods four miles from the Magdeburg gates.
"We will travel only at night for the first few days," Henri said, "and hide during the day. Best not to tempt fate."
That afternoon, after sleeping most of the morning, they watched the huge pillar of smoke boil up into the sky from the direction of Magdeburg. Henri, her father's friend, and an almost uncle, turned grim. "It is much worse than even I suspected it would be. They should not have set fire to the town. Magdeburg alive could sustain them. Magdeburg destroyed will force them to forage into the countryside. We will have to move as soon as we can tonight."
As Colette Dubois watched the black smoke rise into the sky she imagined she could hear the screams of the women and children on the breeze. She shuddered. Raped and murdered. Thousands of them. And now Tilly's wolves would be scouring the outlying districts for more plunder and victims.
They rode for days, constantly on guard and careful to avoid concentrations of other travelers who might attract the attention of soldiers. Finally they stopped at an abandoned house on the outskirts of a village so that Henri could get more supplies. Colette and Colas, her brother, hid in the woods near the house and waited, tying their horses far enough back so they would not whinny in greeting to any horses passing along the road.
In the late afternoon they heard hoof beats on the road. Colette quickly grabbed Colas before he could jump up and expose himself. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "Wait and see if it is Henri first."
Crouching back down, Colette and Colas watched as half a dozen soldiers kicked in the door of the house and began to ransack it.
So stupid, thought Colette. There was nothing of va
lue left in the house. But the soldiers seemed to delight in smashing what little furniture there was. Two of the men began a more systematic search of the outside yard and were beginning to work their way steadily in Colette's direction. If they came too close . . . Colette shivered. She knew what her fate would be. Death, if she was lucky. And Colas wasn't strong enough to survive even a week in a soldier's camp, given his recent sickness.
It was the light that saved them.
The soldiers were twenty yards away when the sun spawned on the earth. A titanic wave of sound rolled across the house. Terrified, the soldiers quickly mounted their horses and galloped off.
Colette watched them go. She breathed a sigh of relief. Then felt Colas' tug at her sleeve.
He pointed. "Where did the hill go?"
Colette shivered again. A sign from God. But what did it mean?
It was an hour later when they once again heard hoof beats on the road. This time it was Henri. He had no supplies and he seemed to be favoring his left shoulder.
Colette saw the blood on his jacket. "You've been shot!"
Henri dabbed at the wound. "It's nothing. No bones broken, not much blood. A band of cutthroats. We'll have to ride on for supplies." Henri gestured toward the house. "What happened here?"
Colette shook her head. "I don't know. There were soldiers, half a dozen of them. They would have found us but for the light. It was like the sun was rising from the earth. The sound nearly deafened us."
They spent the night several hundred yards deeper in the woods.
* * *
"Josh! Your move, boy."
Josh sighed. Normally it took his grandfather at least 15 minutes to make a move in the middle game. He'd thought there would be plenty of time to use the phone in the kitchen for a quick call to his sister-in-law.
"What was that?" Michelle asked.
"Gramps. We're playing chess. It's Sunday after all," Josh said.
Josh's grandfather always hosted the weekly parish chess club. Josh had been involuntarily inducted when they heard about his U.S. Chess Federation master rank. This Sunday, of course, the group was limited to the real chess fanatics who were willing to incur Vince Masaniello's wrath by skipping out early on his fortieth wedding anniversary party.
Josh could feel his sister-in-law smile. "You going to let him win this time?"
"Not likely." Josh chuckled. "He knows I'm still a master. If I let him win I'd never hear the end of it. But at least I can make it seem like a struggle."
"Tell that French witch you're busy, boy. I just made the move of the century! No way you're getting out of this one!"
"Oh great," Josh said. "Now you're the French witch."
Michelle laughed. "Tell Joe he's a surly old curmudgeon."
"Michelle says you're a surly old curmudgeon, Gramps."
Joe snorted. "She's got that right."
"Hey, Lou," Josh said, "is Gramp's move that great? Maybe I should stay in the kitchen."
He heard the pause in the speed chess game and knew that Lou Giamarino was looking over the board.
"Yeah. You're in trouble all right," Lou said dryly. "Looks like he bought your sacrifice. Probably mate in five for you."
Josh laughed and listened for a minute as the three old friends began arguing over Joe's last move.
That should keep them busy, he thought. "Did you get all of the books sent, Michelle?"
The company Josh worked for had received the contract from the West Virginia Department of Transportation to investigate the old Baltimore & Ohio railroad route for the "rails to trails" program. Josh had pushed hard to get the job, knowing that he could save a lot of his per diem by staying with his grandfather in Grantville.
But, as a quid pro quo, Josh's boss had demanded that he prepare a paper for a symposium, any symposium, involved with industrial archaeology. Josh had discovered that the twenty-sixth International symposium of the International Committee for the History of Technology was looking for an American to present a report. Since he worked mainly in Pittsburgh, Josh decided that the early history of steel would be just about perfect.
Initially, Josh had made good progress on the paper for the symposium, gaining access to a variety of records from Pittsburgh steel companies. He had also done extensive spelunking on the internet, vacuuming all kinds of files onto his laptop's hard drive. Early on, he discovered "The Sheffield Connection" in the Pittsburgh crucible steel industry, but the only decent sources available for deep background were dusty nineteenth-century books not found in the United States. Taking advantage of his sister-in-law's upcoming trip to London and Paris, he asked her to air express some of the books he had selected.
"Yes, they've all been sent," Michelle said. "Didn't you get them yet?"
"No, just one package with the two history books. The rest are probably lost in some DHL warehouse in New York. If they aren't here by Wednesday I'll run their tracking numbers down. The B & O survey should be wrapped up soon and then I can really get working on the paper for the symposium." Josh heard some noise from the other end of the line. Daniel's voice.
"Oops." Michelle laughed. "Someone wants to say hi."
"Josh!"
"Daniel! How's my favorite nephew doing?"
Josh smiled when he heard Michelle say, "Speak French, Daniel."
"Josh, grandpere m'a amené voir Notre Dame."
"C'était amusant?"
"Josh, c'est une cathédrale," scolded Daniel. "Plutôt ennuyeux. Mais les gargouilles, ça, ça me plait."
Josh grinned. "Alors, peut-être la Tour Eiffel te plairait plus. Laisse-moi parler à ta maman maintenant."
"Okay, Josh. See you."
"Later, Daniel."
Michelle came back on the line.
"Got to go, Michelle," Josh said. "I'll call again when I get back to Pittsburgh. Je t'aime."
"Je t'aime au . . ."
The phone went dead at the same time a brilliant white light lit the sky and a distant sound of thunder seemed to echo across the hills. For a second Josh stood there, stunned. What the hell?
"What the hell was that?" his grandfather yelled from the living room.
"I don't know, Gramps. But both the power and the phone are dead."
Lou and Bart came into the kitchen, both with vaguely worried expressions on their faces. "The phones went out at the same time as the power?"
Josh nodded.
Bart shook his head. "Odd. The phone system is supposed to have its own power supply. Think I'll go take a look around town to see who's in the same boat. Want to come along, Lou?"
"I'm with ya." Lou turned towards the living room. "We're taking off, Joe. We'll call when the phones start up again."
"Party poopers," Joe grumbled.
Lou grinned. "Take care of the old man, Josh. He's getting a might touchy in his dotage."
"You ain't no spring chicken yourself, Louis Giamarino!"
Lou laughed and waved to Josh as he and Bart went out the back door. "Later, Josh."
Joe yelled from the living room. "Damn. Josh, come finish the game and we'll wait it out, whatever it is. But open the curtains so we have some more light."
"Come on, Gramps. Let's go find out what's going on. Maybe it's something serious."
Joe snorted. "Forget it, boy. Can't be anything that bad. Besides, I still think I've got you cornered here, no matter what Lou says."
Josh sighed and glanced out the kitchen window. Odd, the sun seemed to be in a different direction than he remembered it being. Josh shrugged and walked back into the living room.
* * *
For Colette, Henri and Colas, the strangeness started again when they came across the road. Colette had been lost in thought and did not realize they were on a road until she noticed the change in the sound of the horse's hooves.
"Stop!"
Colas and Henri reined in their horses and watched as Colette slid off her horse and squatted to stare at the black-topped road.
"What is it, Colette? What's wron
g?"
"Think, Colas. Where did this road come from? Look at it!"
Colas nodded. "It is very nice. Nice and wide. And very smooth."
Colette got to her feet and looked to the south. The road disappeared around a curve half a mile away. Colette took out her dagger and dug a bit of the black stuff out of the road. She rolled some of it on her fingers. Sticky. She sniffed her sample, then tasted it with her tongue. Tar. It was tar of some kind.
Colette stared at the road. "Henri? Don't you see it?" She paced the width and looked at the edge. She rolled some of the gravel and tar in her hand again.