“You mean, did the council have her killed?” he asked harshly. “I don’t know. I’ve refused to investigate the possibility. Thousands of pedestrians are killed by hit-and-run drivers every year. She’d walked out on me, and we might never have got back together. And if I did discover that one of my relatives was responsible, I’d have to kill them, wouldn’t I? You didn’t live through the war. Trust me, you don’t want to go there, to having assassins stepping out of thin air behind people and garotting them. Far better to let it lie.”

“That doesn’t sound like the same man speaking,” she speculated.

“Oh, but it does.” He smiled lopsidedly. “The half of me that is a cold-blooded import/export consultant, not the half of me that’s a misguided romantic reformer who thinks the Gruinmarkt could industrialize and develop in less than half a century if the Clan threw its weight behind the project. I’m hoping the duke is listening…”

“Well, he has you where he can keep an eye on you.” Miriam paused. “For your own good, to his way of thinking.”

“Politics.” Roland made it sound like a curse. “I don’t care about who gets the credit as long as the job gets done!” He shook his head distractedly. “That’s the problem. Too many vested interests, too many frightened little people who think any progress that breaks the pattern of Clan business activities is a personal attack on them. And that’s before we even get started talking about the old aristocracy, the ones who aren’t part of us.”

“He’s keeping you under his thumb until he can figure out a way to get a hold on you,” Miriam suggested. “Some way of tying you down, maybe?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He looked around, trying to catch the waiter’s eye. “I figured you’d understand,” he said.

“Yes, I guess I do,” she said regretfully. “And if that’s what he’s got in mind for you, what about me?”

They drove back to the house in the suburbs in companionable silence. From the outside, the doppelgängered mansion looked like a sedate business unit, possibly a software company or an accounting firm. As they rolled onto the down ramp, Roland cued the door remote, and the barrier rolled up into the ceiling. For the first time Miriam realized how thick it was. “That’s bombproof, isn’t it?”

“Yup.” He drove down the ramp without stopping and the shutters were already descending behind them. “We don’t have the luxury of a beaten fire zone on this side.”

“Oh.” She felt a chill. “The threats. It’s all real.”

“What were you expecting, lies?” He slid them nose-first into a parking spot next to the Jaguar, killed the engine, then systematically looked around before opening the door.