The correspondence instructed de Villaine to leave one million euros in a suitcase in the corner of the Romanée-Conti vineyard, right near the area represented by the small circle on the drawing. By way of proof that he—she, they, whoever they were—meant business, the letter informed de Villaine that some 82 vines of Romanée-Conti had already been poisoned. According to the note, the two vines in the area marked on the sketch by two X’s in the small circle had been killed by poison. The other 80 vines were marked by X’s in the much larger, center circle; however, those could be spared with an antidote—that is, provided de Villaine paid up.

This time, de Villaine called the authorities. He did not call the local police. Burgundy is too small, too full of gossips and competitors who might use this fact or fiction against his Domaine. True or not, if the world thought the D.R.C. vineyards had been compromised … Well, de Villaine could not begin to imagine, or, rather, he could imagine what that might mean. He could not afford for this to be mishandled, and so he called a police official he’d met in Dijon who was now a senior official with the police based in Paris. Investigators arrived at the D.R.C. The two vines supposedly poisoned were removed. Quickly, it was determined they had been poisoned, and were dying. The other 80 or so vines in the large circle—while they had been drilled—in reality had not been poisoned. That part, at least so far, was a bluff.

Whoever was responsible, de Villaine was convinced, knew exactly what he was doing by targeting the D.R.C. It was clearly someone who had been sneaking around in his vineyard, and for quite some time, to produce such a detailed sketch. What’s more, it appeared to de Villaine that whoever it was likely knew a great deal about wine. The second letter included sophisticated wine-making terms, like décavaillonnage and démontage.

And there was this fact: from what the police had discovered, the criminal, or criminals, used a syringe to inject the poison. This was especially significant—over the centuries, vignerons had used such a pal or syringe-like technique to inject liquid carbon disulfide into the soil and save the vineyards from devastating infestations by the phylloxera insect. Meaning, the very methodology that had been used to preserve the vines was now being employed in an attempt to kill the vineyards of Romanée-Conti.

On the advice of investigators, de Villaine did not drop off the money as directed. Instead, a trusted employee, in the dark of night, left a note in the vineyard on the specified day, February 4. In the note, de Villaine relayed that he would pay as demanded, but it would take time to muster the euros; he’d have to call an emergency meeting of the shareholders from the Leroy and de Villaine families. Within a matter of days, de Villaine received another mailing—what would be the third and final piece of correspondence. The tone of this letter was polite, even grateful that payment would be made. It instructed de Villaine to please deliver the money in a valise to the cemetery in the neighboring town of Chambolle-Musigny. The suitcase was to be left inside the cemetery gates at 11 P.M. on February 12, 2010.

The week of the arranged drop-off, de Villaine was scheduled to be out of the country, in America, on a promotional tour for the D.R.C.’s 2007 vintages. The investigators assigned to the case encouraged de Villaine to go about his normal business. They told him it was important to act as if nothing unusual were afoot. They reminded him, too, that the same D.R.C. employee who had left the note at the vineyard could serve as the drop-off man. Jean-Charles Cuvelier, the deputy manager of the D.R.C., the police said, appears to “be capable and cold-blooded.” The latter part of the description was wry cop humor, for Cuvelier is about as cold and hard as a freshly baked croissant.