* * *
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 Bet
ula, 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?"