“You mean you thought the drugs might be destined for someone else?”

“That crossed my mind. Maria Cazarès seems the likelier candidate. There are rumors about her volatility, her health. She’s the linchpin of a billion-franc industry, of a company that Lazare was said to be trying to sell off last year. If he were still interested in selling, Cazarès herself has to function, and has to be seen to function. It’s of key importance that she actually appears, in apparent health, at the end of her show. If she didn’t do so, if the current rumors about her health, her design capabilities, proliferated, what would that do to the price of that company? It would fall. Now, if a small supply of White Doves not only ensured that she appeared, but ensured that she did so radiant with confidence—you do see?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Anyway…” Rowland reached for the handle of his door. “That’s all speculation at this stage. We should concentrate first on this lead. Locate Mina. Locate Star. Talk to Mina and Cassandra’s friends. Talk to that Dutch girl Anneke’s family—”

“And talk to your DEA contact,” Gini said quickly. “If I’m to go to Amsterdam, I should certainly talk to him.”

She broke off, sensing Rowland’s sudden unease. He left his door unopened; there was a brief silence; wind buffeted the car.

“No,” he said eventually. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. That’s—out of bounds.”

Gini stared at him in astonishment. “Out of bounds? Why? Rowland, all the information you’ve been getting has come from that one source. I have to talk to him. There have been developments—he might know something about Star.”

“I’m sorry. No. Any contact made with the DEA is made through me. Those are their terms, not mine, and I have to accept that. I’m a passenger here. They have my assurance, my word, that my investigations will do nothing to prejudice theirs.”

“But I wouldn’t prejudice them. I’ve been in this kind of situation before. I understand the drill, Rowland—”

“No.”

“That’s it? Just no? I have to accept that?”

“If you want to work with me—yes, you do.”

His tone was courteous and unyielding. Gini, who had been about to argue further, decided to wait; she would return to the attack at a more propitious time. She glanced once more at Rowland; his green and steady gaze was disconcerting, she found. She looked away, across the cobbled yard. From one of the barn roofs an owl took flight. She watched the white beat of its wings, then climbed down from the car.

Without speaking, Rowland led the way across the yard and through the gardens. When they came to a flight of steps, he politely held out his hand and guided her up them. Although it was so cold, his hand felt warm to the touch. Gini glanced at him fleetingly, wondering if his silence indicated some displeasure, but his face gave no indication of any emotion at all.

“Watch your step, it’s icy here,” he said as she stumbled at the top of the stairs.