1633, Jena, Dr. Gribbleflotz's office
Dr. Phillip Theophrastus Gribbleflotz took another look at the bill. He was spending that much on candles? Surely not. "Frau Mittelhausen. This bill for candles. Who has been using wax candles so wastefully?"
Frau Mittelhausen sighed heavily before looking Dr. Gribbleflotz straight in the eye. "You have been, Herr Doctor. You use the good wax candles to heat your beakers. Why you can't use that alcohol burner the up-timers provided, I don't know."
Phillip paused to digest Frau Mittelhausen's statement. Well, yes, he did use candles to heat the beakers sometimes. Especially when he didn't want a big fire. The problem was that the tallow candles didn't give anything like the same heat. And they produced too much soot. Even wax candles, which burned cleaner and hotter, made a lot of soot. He often needed to use several candles at once.
He knew what he needed. Something like the "Bunsen burners" at the up-timer high school. However, that would have to wait until he had access to gas. He knew there had been talk of producing "propane," but for now that was as far off as his much-needed aluminum. As for the alcohol burner the Kubiak Country people had given him, it was very clever. But he could never see the flame, and the alcohol was always evaporating, and it always ran out at the most inconvenient moment. At least with candles he could easily add more, and the heat they put out was greater than that of the single alcohol burner.
He returned to checking the bills. "There must be a better way."
1633, Jena, the new HDG Enterprizes facility
Dr. Gribbleflotz walked around the site of what would soon be the head office and main manufactory of HDG Enterprizes. The new facility was a large compound with buildings for the various production lines, accommodations for laborants and other employees who lived on site, the head office, and the new apartment building for himself and his household. Finally, there was the set of rooms that were his personal office and laboratory.
The current area of interest was the large waterwheel, or more precisely, the area where the waterwheel would be installed. Phillip could see the men clambering around the heavy structure that would eventually support the wheel. He joined the small crowd watching an older man slapping clay around the joints in the steel. Confused, he continued to watch.
"You might want to step back, Dr. Gribbleflotz."
Phillip turned and looked up to see Ted Kubiak. "What is he doing?" He pointed to Erwin O'Keefe.
Ted followed Phillip's pointing arm. "We want to weld the steel frame together. Erwin is going to thermite weld. Right now he's slapping on clay to contain the molten steel until it cools."
"Molten steel? How can you melt steel without a furnace?"
"It's a chemical reaction, Dr.. I can ask Erwin to explain if you like, but for now, just watch. This is really cool."
Phillip watched as Erwin set an odd package over one of the clay covered joints, lit a fuse and jogged back a considerable distance. After a few moments, the brightest light Phillip had ever seen burst from the package. White-hot droplets leaked from the bottom of the clay seals.
Ted pointed. "Those droplets are molten iron from the thermite. The clay holds it in, and the iron cools in place to make a weld. It's really neat to watch."
Phillip stared, awe struck. "Yes, please, Herr Kubiak. Do ask Erwin to explain."
Dr. Gribbleflotz idly fondled a crude iron ingot while he read the letter from Erwin O'Keefe. The ingot was the product of a final demonstration of the thermite reaction that Herr O'Keefe had conducted with one of the remaining thermite kits he had brought with him. The demonstration had so impressed Phillip that he had asked for a "cheat sheet." Herr O'Keefe's letter described the thermite reaction in such detail that he was sure he could easily duplicate it. Herr O'Keefe had even included a couple of alternative methods of initiating the reaction.
Phillip looked over at his cabinet of chemicals in their jars and bottles. He selected a couple of jars and walked to his fume cupboard. He placed a watch glass on a dished firebrick and carefully measured out a small amount of the purple crystals from the up-time "chemistry set." Then he added just a drop of the oily liquid, clicking the stopwatch function of his pocket watch at the same time.
While he waited Phillip admired the "Buick" logo on the door of the fume cupboard. He watched through the safety glass of the fume cupboard door as the purple powder ignited. With the first signs of ignition Phillip stopped his watch. After observing the whole pile of crystals burn, he retreated to his desk where he made notes in his journal. The observed time for the reaction to occur was within the range Herr O'Keefe had written. It was a most interesting experiment, but not as interesting as melting iron in a ceramic pot would be.
As he read Erwin O'Keefe's directions, Phillip could see a potential problem. The thermite reaction used aluminum. Aluminum was a rare and strategic resource. The Kubiak people had indicated he was lucky to get the few pounds they had been able to provide.
Unlike his aluminum pyramid, the thermite reaction could use any aluminum. Minor impurities did not matter. Phillip looked along his bookshelf, toward the model pyramid with its faceted gems. He sighed. He had had such hopes when the Kubiak Country people had provided him with the ingots of aluminum. However, his tests with the scale model had failed to invigorate the Quinta Essentia of the small rodents he had tested it on. It was the aluminum he had concluded. It wasn't pure. The Kubiak Country people had admitted that there were other elements in the mix.
Phillip already knew that pure aluminum would not be available until the up-timers were able to mine the ore. Well, they had admitted that there might be a way to purify the aluminum. However, it required a chemical he wanted nothing to do with. After reading the up-timer handling instructions and warnings, he was happy to let others play with hydrofluoric acid.
He walked over to his store cupboard. Once there, he picked up the few remaining ingots of aluminum. At a guess he had half a pound left. Biting his lip, he turned his gaze to his dysfunctional model pyramid. Make that two pounds.
Seated back at his desk he caressed the iron ingot while he re-read Erwin's letter. An image appeared in his mind. He could see it vividly. He, Dr. Phillip Theophrastus Gribbleflotz, the World's Greatest Alchemist, giving one of his justly famous seminars, and as the piece de resistance, a demonstration of thermite with… Phillip looked down at the iron ingot in his hand… a specially molded shape. Something special. Something of distinction.
Thinking of distinction, he looked down at Erwin O'Keefe's letter. No. "Thermite Reaction" didn't have the right ring to it. It needed something more. A real name. Phillip allowed his mind to wander as he searched for inspiration. The molten iron could obviously be molded into any shape. It would take a little experimentation to get it right, but imagine, in a haze of the brightest light, forming an ingot of pure iron from the dross of rust. Phillip shivered. It was almost a holy event. Then it struck him. The "Gribbleflotz Candles of the Essence of Light." Nobody else in Jena would be able to duplicate the demonstration, and if people should want to buy the iron ingot… Maybe if it was formed into some significant shape? The ideas ran through his mind while he visualized the demand for his demonstrations.
With a sigh he came back to reality. He didn't have enough aluminum to demonstrate the Gribbleflotz Candles of the Essence of Light at all of his regular seminars. It was a pity, but he would just have to limit the demonstration to maybe one a month. Maybe by the time he used up his small store of aluminum, the up-timers would be mining the ore for more. But first things first. Before he could do any demonstrations he had to be sure he could make the Gribbleflotz Candles of the Essence of Light work reliably. To have one fail would be humiliating. He walked over to the door of his personal laboratory, opened it and called out for his laborant. "Hans. We have work to do."
Several months later, HDG Enterprizes, Jena, the new facility
The first demonstrations had gone well. The audiences had been most impressed by his Gribbleflotz Candles of the Essence of Light. The molds his personal laborant, Hans Saltzman, had prepared had produced finely detailed animals. The rabbit, the lamb, even a ram. Phillip smiled at the memories of his success and turned back to watch Hans preparing for his next lesson in alchemy.
With the electricity from the water driven generator, Dr. Gribbleflotz had been able to experiment with electrolysis. His first experiments had duplicated the work he had seen demonstrated at the water works in Grantville. Since then he had been adding things to the basic "bleach" to see what he could make.
Phillip withdrew the jar containing his latest creation. So far he hadn't had time to examine the white powder the laborants had scraped from the wash filters. This was… he looked at his notes again.. . this was the twenty third result from mixing something with "bleach." Bleach was such an ugly word. It did nothing to describe the substance. "The Ethereal Essence of Common Salt." Much more satisfying.
"Light the candle, Hans." Phillip was standing just behind his laborant while he instructed him on laboratory procedures.
"Now, using the wood split like a spoon, scoop a small amount of the compound onto the splint." Hans held the loaded splint just above the jar. "That is a little too much. Tap it gently on the jar to reduce the amount. Yes. That is enough. Now hold the tip of the splint over the flame."
Their eyes followed the loaded tip of the wood splint as it was placed over the flame. Phillip waited to see what would happen.
"What!" Hans dropped the suddenly flaring splint. He slammed the sliding door of the fume cupboard down, sealing the still burning chemical inside. He was shaking a little.
"What happened, Hans?" Dr. Gribbleflotz' voice was remarkably calm.
Hans' voice shook. "I was holding the compound over the flame when suddenly it burst into a violent flame. I am sorry I dropped the splint, Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz. Should I repeat the experiment?"
"No, Hans. You did well. Even I, with my years of experience, was surprised at the vigor with which the compound burnt. I compliment you on your quick thinking in shutting the safety door. I want you to write up what you did, what happened, and your conclusions. We will compare our observations and conclusions over dinner."
"Thank you, Herr Doctor." Hans grabbed his notes before making his escape.
Phillip smiled at the retreating back. Hans was proving himself a suitable student of alchemy. He certainly had the right reflexes. Shutting the safety door of the fume cupboard and letting the splint burn rather than try to pick it up again had been the right thing to do.
He made his way over to his desk and sat down. He considered the experiment they had just conducted. It had been a most vigorous reaction. Excepting the Candles of the Essence of Light reaction, and the self-ignition of the Flowers of Hartshorn, it was one of the most vigorous he had ever seen. He wrote up his observations and conclusions.
The noise in the courtyard attracted Phillip's attention. Looking through the window he was in time to see Frau Mittelhausen greeting the up-timer, Ted Kubiak. A couple of men helped Ted unload the wagon. There were a number of large bottles of something. Ted took one handle of a large basket that contained a bottle, and, with Hans Saltzman, carried the bottle into the building.
Moments later he could hear them in the corridor outside his laboratory. Quickly he hurried over to open the door for them.
"Where do you want it?" Ted asked. "This sucker is pretty heavy."
"Over there on that table, please, Herr Kubiak." Dr. Gribbleflotz waved towards a table set against a wall. "What is in the bottle?"
Ted smiled and patted the five-gallon bottle. "This is some of the new waters of formalin you were asking about when you visited the gas works."
Phillip looked at the size of the container. "That is much more than I usually deal with in my experiments, Herr Kubiak."
"Sorry about that." Ted shrugged. "But the gas works were going to charge about the same price to fill the big bottle as they would if we filled a little bottle. So I went for the big one. You never know, you might find a use for it all."
Dr. Gribbleflotz smiled in return. Yes, if the price was much the same it was silly to buy just a small bottle.
Ted had been looking around the laboratory. Right at the moment he was sniffing the air around the fume cupboard. "What are you working on at the moment, Dr. Gribbleflotz? If you don't mind me asking."
Phillip looked from the fume cupboard to his notes. "Nothing much. Just before you arrived, I was supervising Hans as he tested a new compound. It was something I created using the new electrolysis equipment, 'The Salt of the Ethereal Essence of Common Salt and Ash.' However, it was most disappointing. All it did was increase the rate at which a splint of wood burnt."
"Oh, well. Not everything you discover has an immediate use. Maybe sometime in the future you'll find something it's good for."
Phillip smiled at the up-timer's attempt to raise his spirits. He rested his eyes on the bottle of waters of formalin. "I now have something new to experiment with. Thank you for bringing me the waters of formalin, Herr Kubiak. To make a special trip to Jena just to make the delivery was most kind."
Ted's ears showed a red tinge. "Actually, Dr. Gribbleflotz, I'm on my way to Magdeburg and points north on a buying and selling trip. I had to stop by anyway, to stock up here before I left." Ted shot a gaze at his wristwatch. "Is that the time? I really must get on my way. Your people should have filled the wagon by now."
Phillip smiled broadly while the tall up-timer made his hasty escape. Then, with a contented sigh, he turned his attention back to his laboratory. That fume cupboard needed to be cleaned out first. "Hans, please clean the fume cupboard while I gather my notes from the gas works. We will both have to do some reading."
Hans, who had been hanging back while the good doctor talked to the up-timer, hastened to clean up the fume cupboard. He was interested in finding out what Dr. Gribbleflotz intended doing with his new "waters of formalin."
Dr. Gribbleflotz took notes as Hans carefully added the spirits of hartshorn or "ammonia" to the formalin. In accordance with the recommendation of his up-timer contacts he had been concentrating the solution. At higher concentrations, less of the spirits were needed.
Hans gently stirred the mixture as he added the spirits of hartshorn.
"Stop!" Phillip had seen the first signs that something was precipitating out of the solution. Stepping forward, he read the level from the titration tube and recorded the information.
"Notice, Hans, how something is 'precipitating out' of the solution. Under the up-timer chemistry, we should be able to calculate something about the nature of the product. That will be an assignment for you."
"Thank you, Herr Doctor."
Dr. Gribbleflotz smiled at Hans' less than enthusiastic response. Both of them were finding the up-timer chemistry difficult. "Continue to add the spirits of hartshorn until you are sure there will be no more precipitate produced. Then run it through a filter paper and we will see what we have."
Phillip stood back and observed while Hans added some more spirits of hartshorn. When his laborant thought the reaction was complete, he selected a piece of filter paper from a drawer, folded it, and placed it into a funnel. He then poured the contents of the beaker through the funnel. Then he placed the filter paper on a clean watch glass. Turning to check that Dr. Gribbleflotz approved of his actions, he then opened the folds of the filter paper to expose the precipitate. Then he used his fingers to squeeze it.
"It is waxy, Herr Doctor. And…" Hans touched his fingers to his tongue. "It is sweet."
"Hans!" Dr. Gribbleflotz was shocked. "What is the first rule of safe alchemy?"
Sucking his finger still, Hans looked at Dr. Gribbleflotz. "Everything is considered dangerous until proven to be safe?"
"Yes. And do you know that compound is safe?"
Hans took his finger from his mouth and looked at it. The implication of what Dr. Gribbleflotz was saying finally hit him. "No, Herr Doctor."
"Then why did you use your bare finger to test the texture of the compound, and then put it into your mouth?"
"But it should be safe, Herr Doctor. The waters of formalin and the spirits of hartshorn are not poisonous." Hans hesitated a moment. "Are they?"
Dr. Gribbleflotz looked down at his watch. It had been only a couple of minutes since Hans introduced the compound to his mouth. Much too soon to be sure of anything. "We will wait. How do you feel?"
Hans was starting to sweat a little. Using the front of his lab apron he mopped the sweat from his brow. "I do not feel unwell, Herr Doctor."
They waited for several minutes.
"You are still with us, Hans?"
"Yes, Herr Doctor. I still do not feel unwell."
"Then I believe we can conclude, that in the dosage you took, the compound is not poisonous. But let that be a lesson to you. Do not take unnecessary risks." Phillip paused and looked from Hans to the compound sitting on the watch glass. "Sweet, you said?"
Hans nodded.
"Could it be 'sugar'?"
Hans thought for a moment then shook his head. "No, Herr Doctor. It is not that sweet."
"A pity. A great pity, Hans. To be able to make sugar by mixing chemicals would have ranked as a glorious discovery. Especially given the cost of sugar. Now, I guess I must taste it myself."
Phillip stood behind Hans. They were back testing their new compound. Hans had loaded the tip of a wood splint and was about to place it over the burning candle.
Both of them paid close attention. The reaction, when it occurred, was most interesting. The compound, whatever it was, caught fire before the thin splint of wood.
Hans took some of the remaining precipitate and rolled it in his fingers. Then, holding it between two splints, he held it over the candle until it caught fire. He then passed his left hand above the burning compound. "It gives off a good heat, Herr Doctor."
"Drop in onto a clean watch glass and see how cleanly it burns."
Hans dropped the burning compound onto a clean watch glass and held a second clean watch glass over the burning compound. He had to put it down quickly because of the heat. He slid a clean piece of paper under the watch glass so any soot would show up better.
"It is less soot than from even a wax candle, Herr Doctor." Hans turned excited eyes to Dr. Gribbleflotz. "Could it be a wickless candle?"
Phillip thought for a moment, then shook his head slowly. "No, Hans. I don't think it will give off the light of a true candle. However, you say it gives off heat. Maybe we have discovered a replacement for the expensive candles we currently use in our experiments. Come. Let us make a bigger batch. We have many more tests to conduct."
Winter 1633, Magdeburg
"Hi, Mike. We've got something for you." Greg Ferrara and Christie Penzey slipped into Mike's office. Greg delved into a paper bag and extracted a package from it. He slid it across Mike's desk.
Mike poked suspiciously at the waxed paper bundle. "So, what is it?"
"Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine."
Mike looked to Christie. "Could you translate that, please?"
"Its RDX, or Cylonite. One of the main ingredients in military C-4 high explosive."
"I thought you said you couldn't make anything other than nitro or dynamite without benzene from the coal tar process?"
Greg grinned a bit sheepishly. "We did. We were wrong. Not about getting benzene from the coal tar process. But we were wrong about the benzene."
"So when did you start making this RDX?"
"We aren't making it, Mike. There's a small company that was making small lots for the Thuringian Rifles." Greg nodded to the package on the desk. "That's where we got that package."
"Well, how much more can they make? And how come the Thuringian Rifles got it first?"
Greg shrugged. "They're only set up to make pounds per week. The RDX is a sideline from their main product." Greg shuddered as he remembered the main product of Brennerei und Chemiefabrik Schwarza, or the Distillery and Chemical Factory of Schwarza. "Percussion caps."
Mike pulled back from his desk and stood up. "I thought you said we couldn't make percussion caps. Wasn't that the reason we went for flintlock over caplock?" Greg nodded. "So how is it that some back woods down-timer operation can make percussion caps when you say you can't?"
Greg shuddered. "You have to understand. They are using mercury, Mike. They're making fulminate of mercury percussion caps, for God's sake. Believe me. That stuff is lethal. It's not that we can't make percussion caps, Mike. We could easily make fulminate of mercury percussion caps. Just tell me how many lives I can budget for. What's my death quota?"
Mike glared at him. "What's with this 'death quota' and 'lives budget' nonsense?"
Christie spoke up. "What Greg is trying to say, Mike, is that people are literally dying to make percussion caps. Sure, we could make percussion caps. But we would have accidents, and probably deaths. Neither Greg nor I want to be responsible for people dying while they make percussion caps. Fulminates are very sensitive. If they're less than pure they become unstable. Hell. Copper fulminate will explode as soon as look at you. That's the problem. To make fulminates you need pure ingredients. Trouble is, we can't just call up our friendly chemicals supplier and ask for a few hundred gallons of pure nitric acid. We have to triple distil everything, even the water we use."
Greg took over. "Then there is the matter of volumes. The best of the backwoods outfits is making maybe an ounce of fulminate of mercury a day. That's enough for about five hundred caps. The army needs millions. There's just no way we can safely make enough caps using fulminate of mercury."
Mike collapsed into his chair. "Okay. I think I understand. We can make caps, but not safely. Certainly not as many caps as the army would need." At Greg and Christie's nods, he settled and returned his gaze to the RDX. "So, how did these folks make this RDX before anybody else?"
"Fuel tablets." At Mike's raised eyebrows Greg smiled. "Yep. Initially they developed the technique using fuel tablets from Tracy Kubiak's old stock from before the Ring of Fire. Apparently, she still had a few cases left. Anyway, they picked up a cheat sheet for RDX from somewhere and started making it. The real break, though… that came from Jena." Greg grinned and drew another packet from his bag and presented it to Mike.
"Gribbleflotz Essence of Fire Tablets?"
"Yeah. Maybe you don't know the connection between the Kubiaks and Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz? Anyway, Ted, Tracy's husband, discovered that their Dr. Gribbleflotz was making some kind of fuel tablet. So he got some and turned it over to the people making the RDX."
"So we can start volume production of RDX?"
"It depends on what you call volume, Mike. Kubiak Country Industries has built a facility just outside the Ring to make the fuel tablets. Actual production will depend on the demand. Ted said that there should be good demand from the soldiers who will want something that they can use to cook or start fires with. But for high explosives, the problem is still the pure acid needed to convert it from fuel tablet to explosive. Besides, neither they nor Brennerei und Chemiefabrik Schwarza want to touch volume high explosives. The Chemiefabrik guys are happy to license their methods to anybody who is interested." Greg paused to collect his thoughts, "The question then is, what's the government's priority here? Do we buy a license, set up a plant, and set money aside for widow's benefits? Or we can pay a premium and convince our contractors to up their production. The miners could certainly use it. So could the military. This decision is, as Frank says 'above my pay grade.' So, what do you want us to do?"
Dr. Phil Zinkens A Bundle
By Kerryn Offord
Jena, 1633
The new chemical "battery" was most interesting. Just by adding two electrodes of different metal into a glass container of weak oil of vitriol one could generate enough of the new electricity to light the small light bulb.
Dr. Phillip Theophrastus Gribbleflotz returned his attention to the up-time science book. The large printing and colorful pictures gave clear directions on the process and explained everything in the simplest of English. Just what was needed for the World's Greatest Alchemist, especially as he had only learnt English because those silly up-time females from the town of Grantville could only provide reference material in English.
Phillip looked back at his "wet cell battery." The zinc electrode was wasting away before his very eyes. He had been warned about this. He pulled the electrodes from the oil of vitriol and wiped them with a rag. Then he turned to the collection of chemicals the Grantville females had given him when they presented him with the up-time science books. One jar caught his eye. It was labeled "Zinc Zn." There was less than half a jar of the precious metal left.
With a heavy heart he turned back to survey his laboratory. There were a number of electricity experiments that really needed zinc. However, zinc was not available in Europe except as an expensive import from the distant East Indies.
Dragging his feet, Phillip made his way to his study. In there were all of his reference books. Maybe there was something in there about zinc.
There was nothing on sources of zinc in his library. He sighed heavily. He had been afraid that would be the case. He moved over to the window and looked out over the crowded streets of Jena towards the university. No. That would never do. He would not go begging those people for help. Phillip conceded defeat. He collapsed into his chair. Reached for his pens and ink. Pulled a sheet of paper from a drawer and sat and chewed the end of the iron tipped pen while he debated how to start the letter to Frau Kubiak. If any of the up-timers knew how to get zinc, he was sure Frau Kubiak would be able to obtain the necessary information. His only worry was what the dratted woman would ask in return.
Grantville Canvas and Outdoor, Mahan Run
Tracy Kubiak carefully placed the letter from Dr. Gribbleflotz on the kitchen table. She stepped back from it and walked around the kitchen. All the while, she kept an eye on the letter, expecting it to get up and bite her, or try to escape. She had had sufficient dealings with Dr. Gribbleflotz to know just how hard he must have found it to write that letter. The fact that there were no errors or blots suggested that it wasn't a first draft. A lot of care and attention had been invested in it.
Tracy searched high and low for her husband, calling out as she searched. She finally ran him to ground in his workshop. "Ted. There you are. Why didn't you answer when I called?"
Ted very carefully didn't say that he had answered. "What's the problem, Trace?"
"I just got a letter from Dr. Phil. He wants to know about zinc. What do we know about zinc?"
Ted smiled at his wife and shrugged his shoulders. "Somewhere between nothing and not a lot. What does he want to know?"
"He says he's afraid of running out of zinc for his electricity experiments. I think he wants us to find him some more."
"That's not going to happen. Every bit of spare zinc, even up-time coins, is being melted down for use in industry. They don't make it in Europe yet. They import it from the Far East, as far as I know. Do you want me to check out the library?"
"Please. If there's nothing else you need to do, I'd like you to see what you can find."
Ted smiled wryly. "So, what is it you want from Dr. Phil this time?"
"Actually…" She smiled back. "Nothing. I can't think of a thing, but it won't hurt to have Dr. Phil owe us. You never know. Maybe one day we'll get something really good out of him."
"Yeah, right." There was only a hint of skepticism in his voice. "I'll finish cleaning up in here then head over to the library. While I'm out that way, I might as well drop in on the ammonia plant and see how Dr. Phil's crew are doing."
HDG Enterprizes, Jena
Dr. Gribbleflotz and his personal laborant, Hans Saltzman, carefully read over the large bundle of notes Tracy Kubiak had sent. They described zinc and the extraction process, but the notes created more questions than they answered.
"I shall have to journey to Grantville and examine the research material myself, Hans. Please see that everything is made ready."
"Of course, Herr Doctor. Will you be visiting the spirits of hartshorn facility?"
Phillip paused to think for a moment. "Yes. If I include an inspection of the facility, I will be able to claim the cost of the trip against the company."
"Very reasonable, Herr Doctor. Will you be requiring my presence on this journey?"
"No." Phillip shook his head. "Not unless you wish to come. You could visit some of the up-time facilities if you wish. I am sure Michael Siebenhorn and Kurt Stoltz will be only too happy to make arrangements."
Once in Grantville, his duty visit to the spirits of hartshorn plant complete, Phillip had set out to complete his real mission. Michael Siebenhorn, the ex-laborant in charge of the facility, had introduced Phillip to a most excellent specialist library researcher and a copyist to do the hard work of the actual library search and the taking of notes. While the two specialists visited the various libraries around Grantville, Phillip, with time heavy on his hands, had taken the opportunity to investigate the clothing and shoe stores of Grantville. Hans was left to amuse himself touring some of the up-time facilities
Jena
The copious notes assembled by the researcher and copyist sat in piles on Dr. Gribbleflotz' desk. Both Phillip and Hans worked away in silence, reading and taking notes.
"'Both sphalerite and calamine are ores of zinc.' Well, that is old news." Phillip looked across to Hans, a look of disgust on his face. "You would think, for the exorbitant fees those leeches charged, that they would tell me something I didn't already know. Why, I've made brass using both of those self same ores many a time."
"But, Herr Doctor. Read this." Hans waved the sheet he had just finished reading. "It says here that it is from the vapors of those ores that one can obtain the zinc."
"What? Let me see that." Phillip grabbed the sheet and quickly read it. He dropped his head into his hands. "So close." He looked up at Hans. "So many times I have been so close to discovering zinc. If only I had thought to trap the vapors. I would have earned my rightful place beside my great grandfather, the great Paracelsus."
"Herr Doctor, one of the notes says that the great Paracelsus named the metal zinken." Hans hurriedly flicked through the researcher's notes. "Yes, here it is."
Phillip read the note. "Then in honor of my great grandfather, from now on, I shall call the metal zinken."
Phillip started to walk around his study. "We will need to prove that we can isolate the zinken. Either of the ores will do for that. However…" Phillip paused to read from the sheet he held. " It appears that 'pure' oil of vitriol can be made by catching the vapors from the zinken ore sphalerite. As the process to isolate zinken is the same for both ores, we shall experiment with sphalerite."
Phillip stopped to read further. "I believe ten thousand Pfennige should be enough. According to this paper, that is sufficient to produce four thousand Pfennige of metallic zinken and two gallons of strong oil of vitriol."
Phillip made for the door. "Hans, start making a list of what else we will need while I instruct Frau Mittelhausen to place an order for some sphalerite. We will start designing the new retorts we will need when I return."
Phillip found his housekeeper-cum-business-manager in the kitchen. After stopping to slip a couple of cookies out of the cookie barrel, he approached her. "Frau Mittelhausen."
"Yes, Herr Doctor?"
"Frau Mittelhausen, please place an order of ten thousand Pfennige of sphalerite ore. I believe it should come from the Harz region. Please be sure to insist on only the best quality ore, and ask that it be delivered as soon as possible. For such a trifling amount the transport cost should not be excessive."
"I will pass on the order to Herr Ostermann when I collect the bread and pies from the bakery, Herr Doctor." Frau Mittelhausen added a note to her shopping list.
Ostermann Transport, Jena
"Good afternoon, Frau Mittelhausen. What can we do for you today?" Joachim Ostermann asked.
"Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz wishes to purchase some material from Harz." Frau Mittelhausen checked her shopping list. "Ten thousand Pfennige of sphalerite."
"Sphalerite, ten thousand Pfennige?" Herr Ostermann checked to confirm he had heard correctly.
"Yes. Only the best premium grade ore mind, Herr Ostermann."
"Of course, Frau. For the good Herr Doctor, only the best of the best. For such a small amount the supplier might charge a premium price. Will that be agreeable?"
"Yes, Herr Ostermann. If you would prepare a contract, I will sign it when I return from the bakery."
December 1633, Ostermann Transport, Jena
Joachim Ostermann passed a horrified gaze along lines of pack mules carrying what the mule skinner leading them claimed was Dr. Gribbleflotz' order of sphalerite. "How did it happen?" he demanded of the world.
Hans Ostermann, his son, checked the bill of lading the skinner had presented. Confused, he looked at his father. "What is the problem, Papa? The order was for ten thousand Pfundt of premium ore, to be delivered as soon as possible. That is exactly what we have here."
"Let me see that." Joachim grabbed the bill of lading from his son's hand. A quick glance confirmed what his son had said. Someone, somewhere, had converted the order from Pfennige to Pfundt.
"How did you pay for the ore, Hans?"
"I sent a signed money order, Papa. Just like we always do. You saw me collect Frau Mittelhausen's signature before I took the authorization to the banker."
Joachim slumped against the first of the more than fifty pack mules that carried the premium quality ore and sighed. "Hans, my son. We have a problem. We could be bankrupted over this error."
"Bankrupted? But the Frau signed for it. We have a signed contract." Hans took time to have another look at the bill of lading. He waved it like a talisman towards his father. "Yes, Dieter correctly calculated the estimated cost of freight. So even the freight has been mostly paid. How can we be bankrupted?"
Joachim mopped his sweating forehead. "Hans…" He paused as he struggled to find the words. "Hans, the order should have been for ten thousand Pfennige, a little less than twenty Pfundt. Not ten thousand Pfundt. We have over-ordered by a factor of more than five hundred, and the freight is inflated more than a thousand fold. I do not know that Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz will accept the mistake."
"But Frau Mittelhausen signed confirming the order, Papa."
"Yes." Joachim shook his head. "Someone made a mistake. Somehow the order was prepared using Pfundt rather than Pfennige." Suddenly Joachim jerked upright. His eyes opened wide. "That fool Beyer. It must have been him. Dr. Gribbleflotz' order was the last one he processed before he became so ill he had to be taken to Saint Jakob's infirmary. Come, let's check his desk."
Hans passed a sheaf of papers towards his father. "Papa, I think this explains what happened."
Joachim read the notes taken by the late Dieter Beyer. He could only nod his head in agreement. "It is obvious what happened. There is a drop of something, I hope it is just water and not whatever killed Dieter, on the word Pfennige. It is smudged so badly that it could be read as either Pfennige or Pfundt."
Hans nodded. "He hadn't been with us long enough to be aware of the small units Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz uses and read it as ten thousand Pfundt."
Father and son exchanged grim looks. "Well, we know how the mistake was made, but that doesn't get us any further forward. There is no way we can repay the cost of the ore and its priority transport."
"But, Papa! It was an honest mistake, and we have a signed contract."
"I know, son. But a signed contract will not save our reputation. I will have to go to him, cap in hand, and ask for understanding."
HDG Enterprizes, Jena
"Ten thousand Pfundt? How is this possible? What was the cost?" Frau Mittelhausen all but roared.
Originally, when he discovered that Dr. Gribbleflotz was out of town, Joachim Ostermann had felt happily confident to be dealing with the housekeeper. However, that was before he felt the full force of an outraged Frau Mittelhausen. Anybody would have thought the money spent had been her own.
"Frau, it was an honest mistake. My clerk was ill when he prepared the contract. However." Joachim was careful to emphasis this part. "The contract you signed clearly stated ten thousand Pfundt. If you had read the contract before signing it, the problem would have been detected and easily corrected before the order was sent out."
Miffed at being blamed for someone else's mistake, Frau Mittelhausen looked down her nose at Joachim. "And where is this clerk who so conveniently made such a mistake?"
"Dead. Dead of fever at the infirmary that same night."
Stymied, Frau Mittelhausen sighed heavily. "Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz will not like this."
Joachim nodded his head in agreement. "No, he will not be happy. However, I am hoping that we may come to some kind of arrangement. If Dr. Gribbleflotz were to honor the contract, I am willing to refund some of the cost of transporting the ore. I am sorry, Frau, but that is the best I can do. The only other alternative is I try to sell the excess ore elsewhere. There have been rumors that the staff at the University might be interested."
Joachim sneaked a quick look at her when he said that last. There were no such rumors, yet. However, if necessary, he would start one himself. One never knew. The university faculty might even want to buy the ore. The animosity between Dr. Gribbleflotz and the faculty of the University was well known and a source of constant amusement to the good people of Jena.
"Humph!" Frau Mittelhausen eyed Joachim skeptically. "I will leave it for Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz to decide."
"That is all I ask, Frau. A fair hearing with Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz."
"Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz. Herr Ostermann has the sphalerite ore you ordered." Frau Mittelhausen had been waiting for Phillip to return to his office.
"At last. What took so long? I expected delivery weeks ago."
"There has been a slight mix up, Herr Doctor."
"What? A mix up? It is the ore I ordered?"
"I believe the ore is sphalerite, Herr Doctor, and all premium quality. The problem is the quantity. There is significantly more than you asked for."
"Where is it? Where is my ore? I wish to start my experiments immediately."
"Herr Doctor, Please listen to me. The ore is still at Herr Ostermann's. I have declined to take delivery of it."
"Declined to take delivery? Why ever not?"
Frau Mittelhausen sighed heavily. Getting through to Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz was often a trial. "Because it is significantly more than you asked for, Herr Doctor. I felt that only you could acknowledge delivery."
"Only I could acknowledge delivery?" Phillip paused, something of the sense of what Frau Mittelhausen was trying to say finally penetrated. "How much ore did Herr Ostermann try to deliver?"
"Enough to require some fifty pack mules, Herr Doctor. Ten thousand Pfundt."
"But that's…" Phillip looked at Frau Mittelhausen in shock. If Herr Ostermann had tried to deliver that much ore… "You haven't already paid for the ore yet? Have you?"
"Yes, Herr Doctor. I signed the contract and the request for the banker's draft at Herr Ostermann's at the time of ordering. Apparently, they were correct for the amount of ore delivered."
"Didn't you…" Phillip started, only to stop. Of course Frau Mittelhausen hadn't checked the documents. If she had, she would have detected the mistake. He couldn't really blame her for not checking. He himself usually signed without really confirming that the amounts were correct. It wasn't as if Joachim would have deliberately inflated the order. His livelihood depended on his honesty.
"Someone at Herr Ostermann's made a mistake processing the order?"
His housekeeper nodded. "Herr Ostermann says it was a new clerk, ill with fever. The order form was smudged and the clerk calculated the order based on quantities he normally dealt with."
Phillip collapsed into a chair opposite Frau Mittelhausen and buried his head in his hands. "With a signed contract Herr Ostermann is legally entitled to keep our payment, unless…" Phillip looked up hopefully. "Unless Herr Ostermann can find an alternative buyer. Is there a chance that Herr Ostermann can find a buyer for the excess ore?"
"Herr Ostermann suggested that there were rumors that the Jena faculty might be interested, Herr Doctor."
Shocked, Phillip shot to his feet. " No. I will not let them get ahead of me in the discovery of zinken."
"Herr Doctor, I suspect your reaction is exactly what Herr Ostermann is hoping for."
Phillip nodded agreement and lowered himself back into his chair. "Yes. He is probably hoping that I will not take the risk." He slammed his fist onto the arm of his chair. "He is right. I am unwilling to risk that the university might be interested. If Herr Ostermann is willing to keep the mistake secret, I will accept the ore. Please confirm delivery with Herr Ostermann, Frau Mittelhausen."
Frau Mittelhausen issued a loud sniff of disgust. "You shouldn't let Herr Ostermann get away with his incompetence so easily, Herr Doctor."
"You may renegotiate a new price if that will make you feel better, Frau. But please take delivery of the ore. My research is already much delayed. Why, there is the chance that someone else, maybe even from the university, might isolate the zinken before I do."
"If you insist, Herr Doctor. But what are you going to do about the drain on company finances? Frau Kubiak is sure to question the magnitude of the expenditure."
"How much did the ore cost, Frau?" Phillip had an idea that it was going to be a truly terrifying amount.
Frau Mittelhausen answered by passing over the statement from Ostermann transport. The long string of zeros had Phillip almost choking.
Defeated for the moment, Phillip pulled himself to his feet and stumbled up the stairs to his rooms. In the draft created by his departure, the statement gently floated to the floor. Frau Mittelhausen watched him struggle up the stairs. Then, with a sigh, she picked up the statement and filed it.
December 1633, HDG Enterprizes, Jena.
"I have called you all to meet here to address an emergency situation." Frau Mittelhausen looked around the collected faces of Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz's senior laborants. All of them had started with the original baking soda production line. These were the smart ones. Some of them were responsible for the production lines producing the various products of HDG Enterprizes and Kubiak Country Industries.
"Recently, at considerable cost, Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz took delivery of ten thousand Pfundt of premium quality sphalerite. That purchase has created an enormous hole in the accounts. Such a big hole that, unless something is done, we will not be receiving any bonus this year, and probably not next year either."
"Why would Dr. Gribbleflotz purchase so much ore, Frau Mittelhausen? That is much more than he would ever need for his experiments," Michael Siebenhorn asked.
Frau Mittelhausen looked everywhere but at Michael. "A trifling mistake was made in the preparation and confirmation of the order. But the how is no longer important. The Herr Doctor has barely left his laboratory for the last two weeks. Isn't that right, Hans?"
Hans Saltzman, Dr. Gribbleflotz's trusted personal laborant of nearly two years nodded. "Yes. Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz feels that he is responsible for the problem. Even as we speak he is driving himself hard making the zinken and oil of vitriol."
"Zinken?" Maria Anna Siebenhorn, Michael's younger sister, looked up with some excitement. "Chemical symbol Zn?" They were all aware of the way Dr. Gribbleflotz used his own naming methodology.
"Yes. 'Zn.' Why? Is it important?"
"Yes, Hans. It is important." Maria Anna looked around the dinner table. "You all do know that I'm working for a company making percussion caps?" The people at the table nodded. "What you might not know is that the company has up-timer partners."
Kurt Stoltz lifted his eyebrows in a scowl. "Some of us know, and are fully aware that the up-timers are happy to let down-timers risk their lives with fulminate of mercury. You don't see them risking their own lives."
"Kurt, settle down. They pay well and they provide the best safety equipment they can. I earn over a hundred dollars a day for less than five hours work. Where else can I earn that kind of money, plus free bed and board in an up-time house?" Maria Anna turned back to the group. "Anyway, the up-timers are really interested in zinc. Hans, can the Herr Doctor really make pure metallic zinc?"
"Zinken, Maria Anna. He calls it zinken. Apparently his great grandfather Paracelsus first used that name for the metal. Yes, he has managed to make zinken and oil of vitriol. However, he will take years to convert all of the ore to zinken and oil of vitriol."
Frau Mittelhausen stood to attract attention. "That is why I asked you all to meet here. The Herr Doctor is good at what he does. However, he works only in small amounts. I have been following the progress of all of you and the facilities you are running. I have noticed that production volumes have increased while running costs have declined." Frau Mittelhausen looked almost fondly over the young faces. "I can only assume you have been able to modify the processes so as to increase batch sizes."
"We have introduced a few continuous processes, Frau Mittelhausen," Kurt admitted. Michael and a couple of others nodded. The up-timers had been very helpful when it came to improving the production techniques.
"My question of all of you is: can you take whatever process Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz has created and increase the volumes?"
"Will Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz let us help him?" Maria Anna asked.
In silence everybody waited for Frau Mittelhausen to respond. Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz was a proud man. Would he accept help from his students?
With a resigned sigh, Frau Mittelhausen looked up the stairs towards Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz's laboratory. "I will ask."
February 1634, Kubiak Country
"Hey, Tracy. Wasn't the geek working on zinc?"
"Tasha, please don't call him 'the geek.' Yes, Dr. Phil was interested in zinc. Why do you ask?"
"But he is a geek. Okay, I'll try not to call him a geek. Anyway, there's an article in the newspaper by one of those Jena doctor guys. He's written something about how to make zinc. Do you think he's beaten Dr. Phil to the punch?"
"Could you show me the article, Tasha?" Tracy looked over Tasha's shoulder.
"There, that one." Tasha pointed out the article before she passed the folded newspaper to Tracy.
It took only a few minutes to read the article. Tracy grimaced. Dr. Phil was not going to be happy. It was possible that the author had only been interpreting what he had found in up-time books, but the way the article read did suggest the he had actually tried the process.
"Oh, heck. I think a trip to Jena might be on the cards. Dr. Phil isn't going to be happy having a Jena academic alchemist beating him to produce zinc."
February 1634, HDG Enterprizes, Jena
"Ted. Why do you suppose everyone is looking at us so guiltily?"
"I have no idea, dear. Do you suppose we could just ask Frau Mittelhausen how Dr. Phil is taking the publication of that article on the secrets of zinc?"
"But, Ted. Haven't you noticed the people? There are too many laborants. I'm sure there weren't this many last time I visited. What about when you last visited?"
"Pardon? Oh, the new faces. Well, Dr. Phil was working on his fuel tablets. I'm sure he's just training up some more people to work on them."
"The fuel tablets…" Tracy nodded as if the information confirmed something, "Yes. That would explain why I saw Michael Siebenhorn and Kurt Stoltz."
"What?" Ted searched around the central compound of the HDG Enterprizes facility. "Both Michael and Kurt?"
"Yes. Over by the west wing. Why? What's so special about those two being here? I thought they were two of the company's best production alchemists."
"They are. But converting Dr. Phil's test tube level production to volume production shouldn't need both of them. Besides, if they're here, who's minding the store back in Grantville? No. Something is going on. Come on. I want to talk to Dr. Phil and find out." Ted strode off toward Dr. Phil's office.
"Herr Kubiak, Frau Kubiak. How can I help you?" Frau Mittelhausen's not inconsiderable bulk blocked their way into the office.
"You can tell us what is going on, Frau Mittelhausen. Why are both Michael and Kurt here in Jena? What is so important that both of them had to be called in from Grantville? And why weren't we notified?" Tracy's voice was cross.
Frau Mittelhausen looked from Ted to Tracy. They were obviously after answers and wouldn't leave without them. With a heavy sigh of resignation, she guided them into the office.
"Frau Kubiak, if you will remember, Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz and I can sign for goods without limit…"
"Yes, yes. I know that. With you both in Jena, it was silly to require everything to go through Grantville. Please get to the point."
"Frau Kubiak, that is the point. If either the Doctor or I sign a contract there is no further check. There is no book keeper to question any purchase…"
Ted frowned. "Hold it. Are you suggesting either you or Dr. Gribbleflotz have ordered something you shouldn't have?"
"No, Herr Kubiak. The order was for sphalerite ore for Dr. Gribbleflotz's zinken experiments. No. The problem was not what was ordered, but rather, how much was ordered."
Confused, Tracy searched Frau Mittelhausen's face. "But why would there be a problem? We have never complained about what Dr. Gribbleflotz has ordered yet."
Frau Mittelhausen went to a cabinet and removed a folder. Opening it she selected a sheet of paper and passed it to Tracy. Tracy took a while to read the invoice, finally reaching the bottom where the costs were tallied. Horrified, she looked at Frau Mittelhausen. "You paid that much for zinc ore?" She waved the invoice in the air. "Why?"
"There was a mistake, Frau. The doctor only asked for a fraction of the amount. Such a quantity, barely a small shopping basket full, should have been easily conveyed by the fastest method for only a few dollars. However, the mistake resulted in ten thousand Pfundt being delivered by pack mule." Frau Mittelhausen stopped speaking, unable to convey in words the significance difference in cost of transporting a small basket of ore as part of someone else's cargo compared with the cost of more than fifty pack mules and their handlers.
"The actual cost of the ore, Frau, was a mere pittance compared with the cost of transporting it all the way from the Harz Mountains."
Tracy slapped the invoice onto a table. "How badly does this effect the books, Frau Mittelhausen? Are we in debt?"
"No, Frau Kubiak. We had sufficient reserves from the sales of Gribbleflotz Sal Vin Betula, although expenses have increased considerably."
Tracy winced. Sales of Dr. Gribbleflotz' Sal Vin Betula, better known as Dr. Gribbleflotz' Little Blue Pill of Happiness, had been very profitable. So profitable that others had started making aspirin in competition. Prices were stable at about a dollar a pill, but they had been forced to invest in advertising to maintain market growth.
Ted read the invoice, then turned to Frau Mittelhausen. "What is being done with the ore?"
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."