Free The Tenth Witness (Henri Poincare Mystery) by Leonard Rosen Page A

electronics. It’s 1978, Henri. I’m willing to make a large bet that this market will grow, and as it does, people will want newer and faster computers. They’ll be throwing away old ones. When they do that, Kraus Steel will be there to reclaim the gold and platinum from their used computers. I know the salvage business. I’m good at it. This will work.”
    I stared at him.
    “In twenty years personal computers will be in every home and on every desktop of every business in the developed world. If I understood a damn thing about electronics, I’d get into the computer business myself. But I’m going to stick to what I know: how to make steel and how to strip value from other people’s junk.”
    Anselm’s Munich estate opened onto a woodland fronted by a vast lawn on which his son and daughter were kicking a ball. Hermann and Albert, Schmidt’s Boerboels, ran and pranced with the children. Well to the left, in a formal garden, Theresa bent over rose bushes with pruning shears. She wore a broad-brimmed hat and gloves. When the ball flew and bounced into the rose patch, Hermann loped over and began to lick her face.
    Hard to miss was a full-sized vintage airplane mounted on a steel post and buried in what must have been several tons of concrete. “A Stuka dive bomber?” I said.
    “Very good. A beauty, isn’t she?”
    “On Terschelling, Friedrich pretended to be piloting a Stuka.”
    Kraus watched his son and daughter with obvious pride. “He learned to love the plane here. This was my father’s estate, and after he and Mother died we moved in. Otto had the plane moved here in the fifties. His steel from the Salzgitter mills went into that very one. He had the engine lifted, but the controls are intact, all the cables and the rudders. Friedrich doesn’t know it, but for his twelfth birthday I’m giving him flying lessons and for his sixteenth, a restored Stuka. I’ve got three in a hangar out by the airport, one in reasonable shape and the other two for parts. When he’s twelve, he and I and a mechanic will begin restoring the plane. By the time he’s ready to fly, he’ll know every bolt, gasket, and control switch. What do you think?”
    “He’s certain to love it,” I said.
    A father couldn’t have adored a son more. I liked this man. Rather, I wanted to like him despite everything I saw in Hong Kong. “What did you want to see me about?” I asked.
    “Anselm!”
    It was Schmidt, his voice booming from the entryway, around the corner.
    “I want you to consult on a project,” said Kraus.
    “Ah, there you are. And Henri! How did your meetings go in Hong Kong? I told Anselm all about our ride on the Eagle Maiden. Some fun, yes? But I tell you, it’s good to be back among the civilized peoples of the world. Did you get the contract?”
    I nodded.
    “ There’s a good man!” Schmidt looked at his son-in-law. “He’s on his way.”
    I was explaining the work in Hong Kong, when Schmidt interrupted and asked if I had any progress to report on the dive platform. In fact, on my return I’d spoken with Alec, who’d informed me the weather had improved and they’d found a few coins with the proper dating. Kraus proved himself as knowledgeable as he’d boasted, asking if they were half guineas or spade guineas.
    “They’d have to be dated somewhere between 1795 or so and 1600,” he said.
    In fact, they were: one showed George the Second in profile, and the other, George the Third.
    Schmidt was more interested in the drive shaft. He asked if we’d found any new junk from more recent ships. “You let me know, all right? And get me out to that platform! Tit for tat, remember?”
    Friedrich and Magda exploded into the room, the dogs right behind them. Magda took a running leap into her grandfather’s arms. Friedrich, stopping before me, said, “You’re the one I shot down on the beach. I’ll give you another chance. Come outside.”
    Hermann and Albert turned circles around me, sniffing.
    “Not