“Why should I get into trouble?”
Yo-Yo shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t say anything.
To give himself time to think, Blackie lit a cigarette. As he flicked out the match, he said, “It would be better if you didn’t go to the police. I’m thinking of the girl. I don’t let any of my girls get into trouble if I can help it.”
Yo-Yo’s grin widened.
“I know that, Mr. Blackie.”
“Well, okay. You keep away from the police. Just keep quiet about this. Police informers aren’t popular around here.”
Yo-Yo nodded.
There was a pause, then Blackie went on, “It’s time you settled down to a job of work. Come and see me tomorrow. I’ll find something for you: something good,” and he made a little flicking movement of dismissal.
Yo-Yo didn’t move.
“How about the reward, Mr. Blackie?”
I’ll have to give him the money, Blackie thought, but it won’t stop there. As soon as he has spent it, he’ll be back for more. I’ve got this little rat on my back now.
“The police won’t pay you,” he said. “They’ll listen to you, but they won’t pay you. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“I think they would, Mr. Blackie,” Yo-Yo said and a hard note came into his voice. “I want 20,000 piastres.”
Blackie looked at him for a long moment, then he got to his feet.
“Wait here,” he said, “and keep your hands off my things.”
He went out closing the door after him. He crossed to a door leading to his living-quarters at the back of the club, ignoring Yu-lan who was looking anxiously at him from across the hall. He went to Charlie’s bedroom and entered.
There was a flickering nightlight under a large photograph of Blackie’s and Charlie’s father that stood on a shelf on the wall. The nightlight provided enough light for Blackie to see his brother sleeping in the bunk across the room.
As Blackie shut the door, Charlie opened his eyes and sat up.
“What is it?” Charlie asked.
Quietly Blackie told him of his meeting with Jaffe.
“He has the diamonds,” he said. “He has given me one more.”
Charlie held out his hand and Blackie gave the screw of paper containing the diamond. Charlie examined the stone and nodded.
“This is another of mine,” he said. “He agrees to the price?”
Yes.”
“I fly to Phnom-Penh tomorrow morning.”
“There is a complication,” Blackie said and told Charlie about Yo-Yo.
“These things happen,” Charlie said philosophically. “You must pay him. He’ll come back for more, of course. When we have the diamonds we may have to do something about him, but not until we have the diamonds.”
“That’s what I thought. All right, I’ll pay him.”
“Do you think he’ll go to the police after you have paid him? He might be tempted to try for the reward as well.”
“No, he won’t do that,” Blackie said. “The police know too much about him. I don’t think they would give him anything: he knows that as well as I do.”
Charlie nodded.
Then pay him.”
Chapter Twelve
1
NHAN had passed a bad night. She had had a dream that had terrified her.
As soon as she had got her three brothers off to school and before her uncle had got out of bed, she took a pousse-pousse to the Tomb of Marshal Le-van-Duyet. At the entrance she bought an assortment of vegetables and fruit as gift offerings. She entered the Temple and laid her gifts among the other gifts already on the long table.
She knelt and prayed for some time, and then calmer in mind, she bought two candles, lit them and fixed them to the already overcrowded candle rack.
Then kneeling, she picked up a quiver containing a number of strips of thin wood, each strip bearing a number. Very gently and carefully she began to shake the quiver in both hands until one strip of wood toppled out and fell on the stone floor. She looked at the number and noted it was 16. She went over to a numbered rack on the wall and drew from a pigeon-hole numbered 16 a strip of pink paper.
She took this strip of paper to an old man who was sitting at the entrance to the tomb. He was one of the five fortunetellers attached to the tomb. He read what was printed on the pink paper, then he stared at Nhan for some minutes. He was the best as well as the oldest fortuneteller at the Tomb and Nhan had great faith in him.
He told her that she must be very careful what she did during the next two days. These two days, he said, were the most critical of her life. After the two days, she would have no need of fear, but it would be better for her to return home and pray and keep on praying until the two days had elapsed.
Instead of returning home, Nhan caught the nine o’clock bus to Thudaumot. She felt an urgent need to be with Steve to feel his arms around her. He could, she felt, give her more comfort and more hope than prayer.
While the bus was leaving the Central Market for Thudaumot, Lieutenant Hambley was arriving at his office. He found on his desk a number of files and a request for a comprehensive report on the pilfering of stores belonging to the Embassy. The report and the files would keep him fully occupied for at least two days, and as he got down to work, he remembered that he was to have gone to the Tomb of Marshal Le-van-Duyet to talk to Nhan Lee Quon’s uncle.
Well, I can’t do everything, he told himself. I’ll give her name to Ngoc-Linh and he can handle it.
It wasn’t until eleven o’clock when his secretary brought him a cup of coffee that he paused in his work to telephone the Inspector.
“Your theory that Jaffe was a degenerate is so much baloney,” Hambley said when the Inspector came on the line. “I have talked to his friends and there’s no evidence at all that he was queer or that he chased girls. He had a regular girl. You’d better talk to her. She’ll tell you there was nothing wrong with the guy.”
The Inspector, listening, half closed his eyes with exasperation.
“If I could find the girl, Lieutenant,” he said, controlling his irritation, “I would most certainly talk to her, but I don’t know who she is and I can’t find out who she is.”
Hambley grinned to himself.
“You surprise me, Inspector. I had no trouble finding out who she is. I got her name from that Chinese tart you found Wade with. As easy as that.”
The Inspector leaned forward, gripping the telephone. “Who is she?”
“She’s a taxi-dancer at the Paradise Club,” Hambley said. “Her name’s Nhan Lee Quon. I don’t know where she lives, but I do know her uncle is a fortune-teller at Marshal Levan-Duyet’s tomb. He’ll tell you where to find her.”
The Inspector drew in a long breath.
“Thank you, Lieutenant, I will act on your suggestion,” and he hung up.
For a long moment he sat still, staring in front of him, then he picked up the telephone and called Colonel Ondinh-Khuc. He told him he now knew who Jaffe’s girl was.
“I will question her myself,” the Colonel said, a grating note in his voice. “Arrest her quietly. Bring her to me immediately.”
It didn’t take the Inspector long to find Nhan’s address. A register of all the taxi-dancers was kept at headquarters. The Inspector took two plain-clothes men with him and drove in his car to Nhan’s home. Leaving the car at the corner of the street, he walked with one of his men to the apartment block.
Nhan’s mother came to the door.
Her daughter was out, she told the Inspector. She didn’t know where she had gone. She would be back at mid-day or failing this, then she was certain to be back at six.
The Inspector left his man at the apartment. He told him to wait for Nhan to arrive and that her mother was not to leave the apartment on any pretext until her daughter did arrive.
When the Inspector had gone, his man sat on the bench near the door and lit a cigarette. Nhan’s mother squatted on the floor looking at the man in terror. After a wh
ile the man got bored with smoking. He locked the door and then began to examine the contents of the apartment, opening and shutting cupboards, opening drawers and turning over their contents while Nhan’s mother continued to watch him.
Jaffe was surprised and pleased when his room door opened and Nhan came in. He thought she looked tired and he could tell by her kiss that she was nervous about something. He led her to the bed and sat on it, pulling her down beside him, his arm round her. He told her of his meeting with Blackie. He didn’t mention the policeman.
“We leave tomorrow night,” he said. The following morning we will be in Hong Kong.”
Nhan hesitated before saying, “Could we wait for two days, Steve? It would be better. I consulted the Oracle this morning and the next two days are very bad for me. Please wait. In two days time it will be all right.” She looked anxiously at him expecting him to be angry and impatient with her, but instead he grinned at her.
“Now look, Nhan, if you’re going to become an American citizen you’ve got to stop being superstitious, and that’s all this nonsense is: superstition Oracles are all very well for a little Vietnamese taxi-dancer, but not for an American citizen.
“I understand,” Nhan said helplessly. She wanted so much to gain Steve’s approval and to make the right impression. She was suddenly sure that she would never see Hong Kong. Hadn’t the fortune-teller told her the next two days were the most critical days of her life? “It isn’t possible to wait?”
“No. Everything is arranged,” Jaffe said. “Now don’t worry about it. It’s going to be all right.” He lay back across the bed, pulling her with him and he began to kiss her.
Nhan closed her eyes and tried to relax under his caresses, but her mind was darting with fear the way a trapped mouse will dart to escape the paw of a cat.
“Look, why not stay here with me?” Jaffe said. “Why go back to Saigon? We’ll leave here tomorrow night. Will you stay?”
He lifted himself up on his arm and leaned over her, tracing his finger gently down the side of her nose, touching her lips and moving up along her jawbone as he looked at her.
“I can’t stay,” she said, shaking her head. “I must prepare my mother for my going away. There are many things yet for me to do. I must pack. I couldn’t go without saying goodbye to my brothers.”
Families! Jaffe thought irritably. They were a ball and chain on the leg of a man who is trying to run. They were a blanket that stifled impulse.
He was glad he had no family: no mother to prepare for his going away: no brothers to say good-bye to.
His irritation showed on his face as he shrugged his shoulder.
“Well, all right. It’s your family. Blackie will come to your apartment at ten tomorrow night. He will bring you to me. It’s all arranged.”
“I will be ready,” Nhan said.
“We will meet at the ruined temple at eleven then he is driving us somewhere where the helicopter can land. Once we get to Kratie, we’ll be safe.”
Because of the growing presentiment of danger that persisted in haunting her mind, she took Jaffe’s face gently in her hands, smiling at him and she said, “Could we make a little love together, Steve? Now… It will be for the last time.” She paused, then went on, “before we reach Hong Kong.”
He looked down at her, puzzled.
“You’re still scared, aren’t you?” he said as he began to undo her tunic. “You mustn’t be scared. It’s going to work out all right. I know it is. You must trust me.”
She gave herself to him as she had never given herself to him before. It was as if she were trying desperately to express the love she felt for him so that it would make an indelible mark on his mind; something he would always remember her by in the years ahead when he would be living without her.
2
While Nhan was in the bus going to Thudaumot and Lieutenant Hambley was talking to Inspector Ngoc-Linh on the telephone, Blackie was driving his brother to the Saigon airport.
Charlie had been fortunate to get a scat on the Dakota going to Phnom-Penh at ten o’clock. He had already sent a telegram to Lee Watkins, the pilot on the Opium run, asking him to meet him at Phnom-Penh airport.
As the big American car drove along the main road, both brothers were silent, their minds active.
Blackie said suddenly, “Watkins should know a safe place to make his landing. It must he close to Thudaumot. I don’t want a long drive with Jaffe: it’s too risky.”
Charlie nodded.
“I’ll arrange that.” He paused as Blackie slowed down to edge past two buffalo being led along the road, then as Blackie accelerated, he went on, “It’s time we decided how we are to get the diamonds from the American when he leaves here.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Blackie said. “I don’t think it would be safe to let him get to Hong Kong with the diamonds. The time to take them from him is when he arrives in Kratie.”
Charlie thought about this. He realized Blackie was right. It would be almost impossible to get the diamonds from Jaffe in Hong Kong, but in Kratie, it would be fairly simple “Yes. Once the diamonds are out of Vietnam, it doesn’t matter. I could hire some men to take care of him after I have talked to Watkins.”
Blackie had been brooding over this problem during the early hours of the morning. He had come to a certain conclusion. He hesitated to tell his brother, but after a long pause, he forced himself to say, “We can’t trust any outsider in this, Charlie. They might steal the diamonds. I suggest you go with Jaffe to Kratie.” Again he paused, then, “You will have to get the diamonds from him.”
Charlie flinched.
“You are younger and stronger, Blackie,” he said. “I think you should do it.”
“I have thought about that too,” Blackie said, “but there are too many complications. How would I get back? We couldn’t expect Watkins to make a return trip. I have no Cambodian visa whereas you have. I would have to go on to Hong Kong with the diamonds. No, I’m sorry, Charlie, but you will have to do it.”
“This American is dangerous,” Charlie said, shifting uneasily. “I might not be able to get the diamonds from him.”
“I have also thought of that,” Blackie said. “You mustn’t take any chances with him. The way I see it is this: you will tell the American he is to be landed just outside Kratie. There will be a car waiting to take him to the airfield for his flight to Hong Kong. You will arrange with Watkins to land at some lonely place. You will also arrange for a car to be there to meet you. You will need a gun with a silencer. When Watkins has gone, you will go with Jaffe to where the car is waiting. It should be on the road, some little distance from your landing place. You will arrange it so Jaffe walks ahead of you. On the way you will shoot him. We can’t take any chances, Charlie. There’re two million dollars involved. If you held him up and tried to get the diamonds from him, he might outsmart you. I don’t like this plan very much, but we have no alternative. When he is dead, you will take the diamonds and go to the car. You will tell the driver your passenger was unable to come.”
Charlie considered what his brother had just said. Murder was no stranger to him. Fifteen years ago he had murdered a woman who had been blackmailing him. He had had no compunction about killing her. He had gone to her apartment late one night on the pretext of paying her her monthly blackmail. He had hit her on the back of the head, stripped her and drowned her in the bath. It was thought she had slipped, hit her head on the bath taps and had drowned herself.
The idea of murdering Jaffe didn’t disturb Charlie. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to lay his hands on two million dollars, but he wasn’t the same man as he had been fifteen years ago. His nerves weren’t as steady. He flinched at the idea of walking through a dark jungle with a man as dangerous as Jaffe. If Jaffe suspected what was going to happen and got in the first shot, the chances were he wouldn’t miss. Charlie had no wish to die. He would have liked a safer plan.
“We are forgetting the girl,” he said. “She�
�ll be there too.”
“I hadn’t forgotten her,” Blackie said. He deliberately hadn’t mentioned Nhan. He wanted his brother to get used to the idea of one murder first. “She’ll have to go too. I’m sorry, Charlie, but I don’t think the American will leave if the girl doesn’t go with him. I did think I would fix it so she didn’t join him, but on second thoughts, it’s too risky. He might refuse to go if she wasn’t with him. She’ll have to be wiped out too.”
Two murders! Charlie thought, and he felt sweat start out on his body.
He visualized the scene. Jaffe and the girl walking ahead; he following them. He would draw the gun and he would shoot Jaffe in the back. Jaffe would fall. He might not be killed, but at least he would be harmless. What would the girl do? She might run away. It would be dark. If she started to run before he could swing the gun in her direction, she could get away. Then he would be in trouble.
As if he were reading his thoughts, Blackie said gently, “She is in love with the American. When he falls, she will go to him. It’ll be an easy second shot, Charlie.”
“You seem to have thought of everything,” Charlie said, a note of bitterness coming into his voice. “There was a time when I did the thinking for the family.”
Blackie didn’t say anything. Everything depended now on whether Charlie would do this thing. He himself flinched from murder. He knew Charlie had one murder on his hands already. He knew he could never bring himself to shoot Jaffe and Nhan. That was another difference between Charlie and himself: there was a ruthless streak in Charlie that Blackie envied.
They were within sight of the airport now.
“The arrangement,” Charlie said, “is too one-sided. You take no risks, Blackie. I have to do all the work and take all the risks. When the bodies are found, Watkins will guess I killed them. He might try to blackmail me.”
“You in your turn can blackmail him,” Blackie said. “He could get ten years for running opium into Bangkok. You don’t have to worry about Watkins.”
A Lotus for Miss Quon Page 16