The Tenth Witness (Henri Poincare Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the side of the boat, I explained the technologies that had given Lloyd’s the confidence to undertake the project: side scan sonar, vacuum hoses that pumped sand through a screen that would catch the smallest artifacts, improvements in the design of scuba gear and underwater lights.
    “It’s all about the technology,” I managed. “If this salvage doesn’t work, Lloyd’s will wait another hundred years for better technology.”
    Behind Kraus, a dull line at the horizon cracked open like the eye of a drunk after a bad night. Soon I’d be able to attach a body to Anselm’s face, which meant that soon I, too, would be visible.
    He drove the boat hard and, after a few minutes, the sky brightened and he got a good look at me. “Good God, you’ve puked all over my new foul weather gear. Hose it off or buy me another set!”
    I saluted him and drank my soda water, looking for Isaac’s ghost in the darkness.
    “My sister doesn’t make friends easily,” said Kraus. “But here you are, and I got all of two hours of sleep because she found some man who happens to be connected to the Lutine. It’s my Achilles’ heel, you know. Actually both are: my sister and that ship. I’m forty-two, and my mind’s been stuck on the wreck since I was six. Once, my father had to send a boat to rescue me. I took an underpowered skiff out here because I wanted to be near her. I must have thought the Lutine would rise from the deep if I called her name. It means tormentress, you know. Lutine. Fitting as hell.”
    We hit a wave.
    “Did you drown?”
    “Damn near! By the time they found me, I was half swamped in a sea snottier than this one. Just so you know, I love my sister but you’re not the reason I’m out in this slop at five in the morning. I need to be near that wreck. You’re not offended, I hope. I give you a ride, you get me closer. It’s how business gets done.”
    Despite the seasickness, I enjoyed his company. Anselm’s passion for the Lutine explained a great deal about Friedrich’s passion for his Stuka. What a fine thing it was, I thought, for a son to resemble his father this way.
    We hit another wave that sent us sailing through the air. Anselm whooped when we landed with a satisfying thwack. “Really,” he said. “This little boat could take on a hurricane. And you truly look like hell.”
    I retched again.
    “You know, I tried checking you out, but I couldn’t find a damn thing on P&C Engineering or Consulting or whatever you call yourselves. Do you people even exist?”
    “I’m here,” I said. “We’re small. But yes, we exist.”
    “How small?”
    “Two of us for the moment.”
    “My father started small. You have to begin somewhere. What’s your next job?”
    “The canal authority in Bruges. Repairs. After that, nothing just yet. I’m fishing, you might say, and in a few days I leave for Hong Kong to bid on a project. We’ve made the final cut. The job could launch us.”
    The prospect of steady work lingered in the salt air for a time, as Anselm worked the throttle and studied a confused sea. The wheel on Blast Furnace had a knob at six o’clock, which he grabbed and spun hard as a wave the size of a two-story building rose off our stern and threatened to swamp us. Anselm spun the wheel hard and surfed down its face, whooping again.
    “How old are you?” he called.
    “Twenty-eight. And I honestly don’t see how I can make it another year. I feel awful.”
    “Right on schedule, Henri. I like it that you’re going fishing in the East. I’ve got a ship-breaking yard in Hong Kong. Viktor Schmidt is going out there in a few days to check on some things. If your visits overlap, he should show you around. Manufacturing’s moving east, you know. I can hire twelve men in Hong Kong for the price of one in Germany, and China’s going to be even cheaper. Deng Xiaoping has positioned the country to take on textiles and manufacturing. I’ve met him, you know.”
    I stared.
    “So Liesel’s