Chapter 9: Harwick

Harwick arrived in Rotterdam on the third day. Crane was watching from the window of a coffee house across the street from Vinclair Mechanics when the man arrived in a private carriage — not ostentatious, but expensive in the specific way of things that are expensive by design rather than display. The carriage's panels were unmarked. The driver was professional and incurious. Harwick himself was fifty, broad-shouldered, with the bearing of someone who had been important for long enough that importance had become a physical quality. He entered the machine shop without knocking. Van Cleef had warned Crane: Harwick made inspection visits to the shop twice yearly. He held a commercial contract for certain mechanical components that justified his access and gave him legitimate reason to be present. The contract had been Harwick's insurance against Van Cleef — a financial dependency that made it complicated for Van Cleef to refuse the visits or restrict what Harwick saw. Crane watched the window of the shop's front room. Forty minutes. He catalogued what he could from outside: the conversation through the glass had the body language of commerce rather than conflict. Harwick was comfortable. Van Cleef was controlled. When Harwick left, Crane gave him two streets of lead time and followed. Harwick went directly to a hotel in the city's commercial district. Third floor, corner room — Crane confirmed the assignment from the concierge with a business card that was accurate in every detail except the name. He went back to Van Cleef. 'He visits,' Van Cleef said. 'He checks the work. He ensures I continue to produce what the Society needs. And he watches to see if I'm doing anything that would inconvenience him.' 'Does he know you've spoken to me?' 'Not yet,' Van Cleef said. 'But he will know I've had a visitor. He has sources in this neighborhood.' He looked at Crane steadily. 'How fast can you move?'