A Lotus for Miss Quon

1

IT took five hours of difficult driving to reach Dalat. The road wasn’t good, and although the Colonel kept urging the Inspector to drive faster, the Inspector was handicapped by the darkness, and the surface of the road.

They arrived at the Dalat railway station at two o’clock a.m. It took the Colonel a little over half an hour to convince himself there was no house near the station with a red roof and a yellow gate.

The violence of his fury when he realized that Nhan had lied to him made the Inspector recoil from him. It was fortunate for Nhan that his maniacal rage made rational thought impossible. His only desire was to get back to Saigon as fast as he could and get his hands on this woman who had dared to have sent him on a wild goose chase. If he had paused to think, he would have gone to the police post and telephoned Lam-Than telling him to re-commence torturing Nhan immediately, but he was past thinking.

He got back into the car and screamed at the Inspector to return to Saigon. The Inspector drove as fast as he dared, but it wasn’t fast enough. The Colonel suddenly yelled at him to stop and get out of the driving-seat. He got under the wheel himself, and for the next twenty miles the Inspector sat stiff with fear as the car roared madly down the winding road at a speed that invited disaster.

It wasn’t long before the accident happened. Coming out of a sharp bend at an impossible speed, the car suddenly skidded, the off-side tyre burst and the car slammed into the face of the mountain.

Although both men were severely shaken, neither of them were injured. It took them some minutes to recover. On inspection, the car was found to be wrecked beyond repair.

The accident had happened on a lonely stretch of the road. The Inspector knew there was no chance of any car passing at this time in the morning. The nearest police post was thirty miles away. There was nothing to do but to sit by the side of the road and wait for the first car to come from Dalat.

The two men waited seven hours before an old, dilapidated Citroen, driven by a Chinese peasant, came panting up the mountain road. The time now was ten o’clock and the heat of the sun had made the long wait unpleasant.

The Colonel hadn’t spoken a word to the Inspector during the wait. He had sat on a rock, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his cruel yellow face set in an expression that chilled the Inspector’s blood.

It took them another two hours to crawl to the police post in the panting Citroen. The Inspector telephoned for a fast car to be sent immediately.

The Colonel sent no message to Lam-Than. He wished now to deal with Nhan personally. Nothing else could satisfy the vicious fury that boiled inside him.

He arrived at Security Police Headquarters at half past one. He dismissed the Inspector, and then went to his private quarters where he took a shower, and changed his uniform. He had lunch. The atmosphere from his pent-up rage and the expression on his face terrified his servants.

Lam-Than, hearing that his master had returned, came into his room while the Colonel was eating his lunch.

The Colonel looked up. With his mouth crammed with food, he snarled, “Get out!”

Startled by the mad gleam in the small bloodshot eyes, Lam-Than hurriedly backed out of the room.

At twenty minutes past two, the Colonel finished his meal. He got to his feet. With thick, unsteady fingers, he undid the glittering buttons of his tunic which he took off and tossed on a chair. Then he went to the door, opened it and walked with a heavy measured tread down the passage, down the stairs to the room where Nhan still lay strapped to the steel table.

The two executioners were squatting patiently either side of the door. They stood up when they saw the Colonel. “You will wait here,” he said, “until I call you.”

He opened the door and went into the room, closing the door behind him. His hand groped for the light-switch and turned it on.

Nhan was blinded for some seconds when the violent cruel light beat down on her. Then she saw the Colonel standing looking down at her. The expression on his face turned her sick.

Steve! Steve! she thought wildly. Come and save me! Please; come and save me!

But she knew Steve wasn’t coming. This was the moment she had waited for when she had lain in the dark, knowing it would come. This was the moment she had gained time for, to gain strength to keep silent.

She stiffened her will.

He won’t make me talk, she said to herself. Whatever he does to me, I will keep silent. I want Steve to get away. I want him to be happy with his money. Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve, don’t forget me. Think of me sometimes. Please, please don’t forget me.

Then as the Colonel bent over her and put his hands on her, she began to scream.

Outside the room, the two executioners had squatted down again. It was cool and restful in the passage. There was nothing to disturb them for the room into which the Colonel had entered was sound-proof.

At half past two, the Dakota from Phnom-Penh arrived at the Saigon airport.

Blackie Lee sat in his car waiting for his brother to pass the Customs and Immigration barriers. He had to make a conscious effort not to look across the car park “where the black Citroen was parked. The car had followed him from the club. He had now identified the two detectives in the car. He knew they were from Security Police Headquarters.

He wasn’t unduly alarmed although he found it a little unnerving to be followed wherever he went. If they had a case against him, he argued to himself, they wouldn’t be wasting time following him. They would arrest him. Since he had survived so far, he didn’t intend to be stampeded into flight. He had, at first, thought that he would go with Charlie and Jaffe in the helicopter, but it would mean not only leaving his club, but also Yu-lan. There was too much money tied up in the dub to run away at the first sign of danger.

Charlie Lee came out of the airport. He walked with a springy step of a successful man as he crossed over to Blackie’s car.

“All right?” Blackie asked as he opened the off-side door.

“Very satisfactory,” Charlie said. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

Blackie drove the car out onto the main road. He glanced into the driving mirror. The black Citroen was moving slowly behind him.

He drove carefully back to Saigon. He didn’t tell Charlie about the following car. There would be time for that when they got back to the club. He listened to Charlie’s recital of his arrangement with Lee Watkins.

“There will be no hitch,” Charlie concluded. “He is trustworthy. Did you get the gun?”

Blackie nodded.

“When you have had a rest,” he said, “I think you should see Nhan and talk to her. Don’t tell her too many details, but warn her to be ready by ten. Make sure she doesn’t take too many things with her. These Vietnamese girls cling to their possessions.”

“It is a pity we have to bother with her,” Charlie said.

“We can’t avoid it. The American won’t leave without her. I am sure of that.”

The car pulled up outside the Club. As the two men got out, Blackie noticed the Citroen had already parked further down the road. He didn’t notice Yo-Yo watching them from the shade of the tree opposite the club.

When the two men had gone up the stairs and out of sight, Yo-Yo stood up and walking casually, his hands in his pockets, crossed the road and entered the club.

He had seen Yu-lan go out a few minutes before Blackie and his brother had arrived. It occurred to him the club might be empty, and he might just possibly get a chance to overhear a conversation between the two brothers that would give him a clue to what was going on.

Moving silently, he walked into the club. There was no one in the big hall. He tiptoed across the dance floor until he reached the door leading into Blackie’s office. He could hear voices. Pressing his ear against the panel of the door, he listened.

Blackie was telling his brother about the Security Police and being followed. Charlie listened with growing alarm.

“I don’t understand it,” Blackie said. “If they had any proof, they would arrest me. It may be nothing to do with Jaffe. There was that currency deal last month.”

“I don’t like it,” Charlie said. “I think you should come with me tonight. It may be nothing, but you mustn’t take risks. There will be room in the helicopter for the four of us.”

“I’ve thought of that, but what will happen to Yu-lan? If I leave now, they’ll never let her get out. Besides, I can’t just walk out of this place. When I do go, I intend to sell it. I must take a chance, Charlie.”

“You could be sorry. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either. I’ll think about it. There’s time. I have until ten tonight to make up my mind.” There was a pause, then he went on, “I have a million piastres in the safe, Charlie. I think you had better take the money with you. If anything goes wrong, it will be something for Yu-lan if she can get to Hong Kong. Will you do that for me?”

“Of course,” Charlie said. “I still think you should come with me. If they’ve found out you know about the diamonds and where Jaffe is hiding, they will wipe you out.”

“If they knew that,” Blackie said bleakly, “I wouldn’t be here talking to you now. I’ll let you know definitely by tonight what I am going to do. In the meantime, will you see the girl? She has got to be ready by ten. There must be no delay.”

Charlie got to his feet.

“I’ll go now,” he said, “then I’ll come back and have a nap. I won’t get much sleep tonight.”

Yo-Yo moved silently away from the door: his thin vicious face alight with excitement. He concealed himself behind a curtain that covered the entrance to the kitchens.

He heard Blackie and Charlie come out of the office. Blackie accompanied his brother as far as the entrance to the club.

“I don’t think they’re interested in you,” Blackie said, “but be careful you are not followed.”

When his brother had gone down the stairs, Blackie returned to his office. He looked through the shutters into the street. The two detectives still sat in the Citroen. He saw his brother walk briskly away. No one seemed to pay him any attention.

A slight sound behind him made him look sharply over his shoulder.

Yo-Yo stood in the doorway, smiling at him.

“Hello, Mr. Blackie,” he said and came into the office, closing the door behind him.

Blackie had a sudden premonition of danger. How long had this little rat been in the club? Had he heard anything?

“What do you want?”

“I’ve been listening, Mr. Blackie,” Yo-Yo said. “I want that million piastres you have in your safe. If you don’t give it to me, I’ll tell those two detectives out there you know where. Jaffe is. You know what they’ll do to you if I tell them that.” Blackie eyed Yo-Yo thoughtfully. Yo-Yo was slim and wiry, but Blackie knew that once he got his hands on the boy, he could easily master him. He would have to kill him. He had no other alternative. Already he had made up his mind that sooner or later he would have to murder the boy.

“What million piastres?” he asked, moving casually forward. “What are you talking about?”

Yo-Yo with the swiftness of a striking snake whipped a knife from his hip-pocket. Its long, glittering blade threatened Blackie.

“Don’t come any nearer,” Yo-Yo said. “Just give me the money.”

Sweat broke out on Blackie’s face. The sight of the knife filled him with sick fear. Then he remembered the gun in his safe. It was fitted with a silencer. He would open the safe, pretending to get the money, then he would grab the gun, turn and shoot.

He pretended to hesitate. He remained motionless, staring at Yo-Yo.

“Hurry!” Yo-Yo said. “Give me the money!”

Blackie lifted his shoulders in resigned surrender. He took from his pocket the safe key, crossed the room and unlocked the safe. He had to kneel to reach in the safe. His broad back covered his movements. His hand closed around the butt of the gun as Yo-Yo silently crept up behind him.

As Blackie lifted the gun and tensed his muscles to bring his body upright, an agonizing pain hit him between his shoulder blades. His hand slipped off the gun and he fell forward. The agony was repeated as Yo-Yo stabbed him again.

2

A little after five o’clock, the telephone bell rang in Lam-Than’s office. With an impatient exclamation, Lam-Than put down his pen and picked up the receiver. He listened to the excited voice on the line. What he heard made him stiffen in his chair.

He said, “You arc certain of this? There can be no mistake?” He listened while the voice beat against his ear-drum, then he said, “Very well,” and hung up.

He sat for a long moment staring down at his desk, then he got to his feet and went swiftly along the passage to Colonel On-dinh-Khuc’s office. He knocked and entered. The office was empty. He paused in the doorway, frowning and looking around. He saw the Colonel’s tunic lying on a chair and he immediately guessed where he was.

He hurried to the questioning-room. The two executioners, guarding the door, looked at him inquiringly.

“Is the Colonel in there?” Lam-Than asked.

One of them nodded.

Lam-Than turned the handle of the door and pushed the door open. He stepped into the room and immediately closed the door on the curious staring gaze of the two executioners.

With a growl like that of a wild animal, the Colonel turned quickly and glared at him. Lam-Than looked past the Colonel at the table and his mouth tightened.

“Get out!” the Colonel snarled.

“You must leave immediately, sir,” Lam-Than said, speaking distinctly and quickly. “A warrant for your arrest was signed half an hour ago. You are being charged with the murder of the woman, My-Lang-To. The driver of the jeep who killed her has confessed he did so on your instructions.”

The Colonel leaned forward and peered at Lam-Than. The muscles in his heavy face suddenly went slack.

“They can’t arrest me,” he snarled. “No one can arrest me!”

“The warrant has been signed by the President,” Lam-Than said. Did she tell you where the American is hiding?”

The Colonel leaned against the wall. He seemed crushed and defeated.

“I cannot understand it,” he said, and there was dazed wonder in his voice. “Nothing I did to her would make her speak. A woman like that… perhaps after all she really didn’t know.”

Lam-Than shrugged his shoulders.

If you can reach the Bien Hoa airport you have a chance of reaching Phnom-Penh,” he said. “They may not have thought of alerting the airport. You must go at once.”

Even as he spoke there came the sound of tramping feet down the passage and the two men looked at each other.

Lam-Than shrugged his shoulders. He moved away from the Colonel as if disassociating himself from him.

The door opened and Inspector Ngoc-Linh appeared in the doorway. Behind him were four policemen armed with rifles.

The Inspector looked from the Colonel to the body on the table. He felt the wall of his stomach tighten with horror. Then he turned and signalled to the policemen who filed into the room. He pointed to the Colonel.

“Arrest this man.”

As the police formed a group around the Colonel, the Inspector said to him, “In the name of the Republic, I arrest you for the murder of My-Lang-To. You will also be charged with the murder of this woman, Nhan Lee Quon.” He turned to Lam-Than. “You too are under arrest as an accessory to both murders.” He nodded to the policemen. Take them away.”

Colonel On-dinh-Khuc straightened himself and squared his shoulders. He marched out of the room at the head of his escort. Lam-Than limped after him.

The Inspector beckoned to one of the executioners who was standing in the doorway, staring.

“Get a blanket and cover this woman,” he said.

When the executioner had gone, the Inspector moved closer to the table. Because he was a devout Catholic and still had some pity left in him, he made the sign of the cross over Nhan’s body, then turning, he went out of the room, closing the door behind him.

3

Charlie Lee stood in the doorway of his brother’s office and stared unbelievingly at Blackie’s dead body lying before the open safe.

It was some minutes before he forced himself to move into the room. He closed the door and locked it, then he went over to his brother and made sure he was dead.

The shock made him feel weak and old. He went to the desk and sat down. He wept for a little while, his face buried in his hands. Blackie had been part of his life. He felt lonely and defenceless now. He could not imagine what his future would be like without his brother.

But after a while, he got over the shock. He suddenly realized now that Blackie was dead, there would be no need to share the two million American dollars, and with that sum of money, he should be able to face life without his brother.

Getting to his feet he went to the safe and peered into it. He saw the gun and took it from the safe. A quick glance told him the million piastres were missing. Some sneak-thief must have killed Blackie and taken the money, he thought, but there was no point in wasting regrets on this loss.

Everything was now going wrong. He had spoken to Nhan’s uncle who had told him Nhan had been arrested and had been taken to Security Police Headquarters for questioning. This information had alarmed him and he had hurried back to warn his brother that not only Jaffe’s hiding place was in danger but Blackie might expect to be arrested at any moment. Charlie had no doubt that when submitted to torture, the girl would betray them all.

There was still a slim chance of getting his hands on the diamonds if he acted quickly. He would take Blackie’s car and go immediately to Thudaumot. He would take Jaffe to the agreed landing place. They would wait there until the helicopter arrived. He was sure it would be fatal to tell Jaffe that Nhan had been arrested. He would say that Blackie was bringing her later. When the helicopter arrived, he would try to persuade Jaffe to leave. If he wouldn’t leave without the girl, then he would have to kill him.

Charlie put the gun in his briefcase: the long silencer made it impossible for him to carry the gun in his pocket.

He paused to look at his brother’s body. He was distressed to think that Yu-Ian would find Blackie, but he didn’t dare wait for her return. He would write to her from Hong Kong, he told himself, trying to ease his pricking conscience. He would invite her to come and live with him.

Carrying the briefcase under his arm, he left the club and went over to where Blackie’s car was parked. He glanced at the police car up the road. The two detectives looked at him indifferently and then returned to reading their newspapers. He wondered if they would follow him, but as he drove away, he saw the black Citroen hadn’t moved. “He reached Thudaumot after five o’clock. He parked the car by the lacquer factory and then walked over to the little wooden villa.

From his window, Jaffe saw him coming. Charlie was sufficiently like his brother for Jaffe to recognize him.

What was he doing here at this hour? Jaffe wondered. Had something gone wrong? Was there to be a new arrangement?

Nhan’s grandfather had gone out and Jaffe was alone in the villa. He hurried down the stairs and opened the front door.

Charlie entered, giving Jaffe a little bow.

“I am Charlie Lee,” he said. “Blackie has told you about me?”

“Yes. Why are you here? Has something gone wrong?”

“Not badly wrong,” Charlie said. During the drive to Thudaumot, he had carefully rehearsed his lies. “But it is necessary for you to leave here immediately. Blackie has heard from a friend at Police Headquarters that your hiding place is now known. The police are already on their way to arrest you.”

Jaffe stiffened.

“How did they find out?”

“I will explain everything later,” Charlie said. “You must leave immediately. There is not a minute to lose.”

“Where’s Nhan?” Jaffe asked.

“She is quite safe. Blackie is looking after her. She will join us in a few hours. If you have anything you want to take with you, please get it. I have the car here. We must leave at once.”

“You are sure she is safe?”

“Of course. Please hurry.”

Jaffe hesitated, then he mounted the stairs two at a time, went into his bedroom and threw his few possessions into his canvas hold-all. He put the police gun inside his shirt. He made sure he had the tin containing the diamonds in his hip pocket, then he picked up his hold-all and moved to the door. He paused for a final look round.

On the bedside table stood Nhan’s little ivory Buddha. Jaffe grinned as he went over to it and picked it up.

She said as long as I have it, no harm will come to me, he thought. I’d better take it along with me. Funny superstitious kid, but she means well.

He dropped the Buddha into his shirt pocket, then joined Charlie in the hall.

“Wait here,” Charlie said. “I’ll bring the car to the door. Get in the back and lie on the floor. You mustn’t be seen.”

While he waited for Charlie to bring the car, Jaffe tried to steady his alarmed mind and to assess the consequences of his hiding place now being known.

Nhan’s grandfather and her family were certain to suffer.

What have I done to these people? Jaffe thought. I am a crazy, selfish sonofabitch. Is Nhan really safe?

Charlie tapped the horn button of the car impatiently.

I won’t even be able to say good-bye to the old man, Jaffe thought as he moved into the hot sunshine. If I had any guts I would stay right here and warn him to get out when he comes back.

Charlie had opened the rear door of the car. He was beckoning to Jaffe.

“Come quickly,” he called.

With a feeling of shame, Jaffe ran down the path and scrambled into the back of the car. He lay on the floor of the car. Charlie slammed the door, then he trod on the gas and the car shot away.

As the car roared down the dusty road towards Ben Cat, Jaffe kept thinking of Nhan. He still had five and a half hours before the helicopter was due to arrive. Much could happen in that time.

Charlie had to stop once or twice to consult his map. He told Jaffe that the landing-ground couldn’t be far, but it was nearly seven o’clock and growing dusk by the time Charlie finally located the exact place.

He saw at once that it was a good place for concealment. There was a thick fringe of bamboo in a half circle before a disused rice-field which was burned into a hard mass of dark mud by the sun, and it was very suitable for a helicopter landing.

The rice-field was concealed from the road by trees and shrubs. As the car bumped over the rough ground, black and lemon butterflies as big as bats rose out of the bamboos while egrets flew in panic across the darkening sky.

Charlie brought the car to a halt and got out. Jaffe, his legs stiff and his body aching from the cramped ride, also got out.

“We must prepare two large bonfires,” Charlie said. “The pilot will have trouble locating this place. When we hear him coming, we will set fire to the bonfires.”

“He won’t be here for four hours,” Jaffe said. “There is plenty of time. How did the police find out I was at the old man’s place?”

“You were seen at the window,” Charlie said, remembering what YoYo had told Blackie. “There is a reward offered for information about you. This peasant who saw you claimed the reward.”

Jaffe cursed himself for being so careless.

“But how did you find this out?” he persisted.

“Blackie has a good friend at Police Headquarters,” Charlie lied.

“What will they do with the old man?”

“You needn’t worry about him. They will do nothing. The newspaper carrying the offer for the reward doesn’t circulate in Thudaumot. How was he to know you were wanted by the police?”

Jaffe relaxed slightly. It was the kind of news he wanted to hear so he readily accepted it.

“And Nhan? Where is she?”

“She is safe,” Charlie said. “She is with Blackie. When it is dark Blackie will bring her here.” He began to move away. “We should begin to build the bonfires.”

The two men parted and began to collect sticks and dried grass.

While he worked, Charlie wondered if he could persuade the American to leave without Nhan. It was a risk. He might refuse. Charlie realized that it would be safer to kill him before the helicopter arrived. He couldn’t kill him if Watkins was there. Watkins would blackmail him for the rest of his life.

He looked across the rice-field to where Jaffe was working. The American’s massive figure was outlined against the darkening sky.

Charlie decided he must wait until it was darker, then he would get the gun, conceal it by his side and when he was close to Jaffe, he would shoot him at point-blank range. He would tell Watkins his passenger had changed his mind and wasn’t coming. He would go with Watkins to Kratie. By this time tomorrow he would be safe in Hong Kong with two million dollars worth of diamonds.

He was glad to have the bonfire to build. It took his mind off Jaffe. It was just after eight when the two men completed their tasks. By then it was so dark, Charlie had difficulty in finding the car.

He could see Jaffe coming across the field by the red spar of his cigarette. He opened the car door and felt around on the floor for his briefcase, but he couldn’t find it. In a sudden sweating panic, he got into the car, turned on the dashlight and looked frantically on the floor, but his briefcase wasn’t there. He could have sworn he had put it on the floor just before he had got out of the car. Maybe it had fallen out of the car as he had got out. It must have fallen out As he got out of the car, Jaffe loomed out of the darkness.

What were you showing a light for?” Jaffe demanded. “It could have been seen from the road.”

Charlie felt a trickle of cold sweat run down his face. “Yes,” he said, trying to steady his voice. “I should have thought of that.”

He was cautiously moving his foot over the ground, trying to locate the briefcase, but he felt nothing. He moved back a few steps and again started searching the ground with his foot.

“What time will Nhan arrive?” Jaffe asked, coming round the car to join Charlie.

Suppose the American stumbled on the briefcase? Charlie thought, his heart beating so hard he felt stifled. If he picked it up, he would feel the gun through the thin leather of the case. He moved forward, meeting Jaffe before Jaffe reached the door of the car.

“She won’t be late,” Charlie said. “She’ll be here just before eleven.”

Jaffe peered at his wrist-watch.

“Nearly three hours to wait. I guess I’ll sit in the car.”

“The other side,” Charlie said, backing away to cover the driver’s door. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

“I wish I had a drink,” Jaffe said as he started around the car towards the passenger’s seat. “This is going to be a hell of a long wait.”

Charlie bent down and hurriedly searched the grass with his hands. It was so dark he could see nothing. Sweat ran into his eyes. He groped as far under the car as he could reach, but his questing hands failed to find the briefcase. Then suddenly he heard Jaffe say, “Hello… what’s this?”

With a feeling of sick dismay, Charlie realized somehow he must have kicked the briefcase across the car and it had fallen out on the passenger’s side.

Jaffe had found it!

He ran round the car.

“It’s my briefcase,” he said, his voice quivering with panic. “Let me have it please.”

“Wait a minute.” The hard note in Jaffe’s voice brought Charlie to a standstill. “You’ve got a gun in here. What do you want a gun for?”

“It belongs to the pilot,” Charlie said desperately. “He lent it to Blackie. I - I promised to return it. May I have it please?”

Jaffe was stiff with suspicion. He opened the briefcase and took out the gun. His fingers felt along the long barrel of the silencer.

“May I have it please?” Charlie repeated but without hope.

“No. I’ll give it to the pilot,” Jaffe said. “I don’t like guns lying around. Get in the car!”

Moving like an old man, Charlie opened the car door and got in. Jaffe went to the rear of the car and got in the back.

“You sit still,” Jaffe said. “I’m watching you.”

Charlie could have wept with despair. For the past fifteen years everything he had touched had gone wrong. Either he had handled his deals badly or else he never had any luck. This was crushing bad “Irk. If he hadn’t dropped the briefcase…

“This is a pretty convenient gun for a murder,” Jaffe said. “You weren’t thinking of murdering me, were you?”

“Such an idea never crossed my mind,” Charlie said, trying to speak with dignity. “Why should I murder you?”

“Just sit still and keep quiet,” Jaffe said. “If you make any sudden move, I’ll shoot you through the back of your head.”

Charlie slumped down in his seat, crushed. He had lost his brother, and through the worst of bad luck he had lost the gun. He was defenceless against the strength of the American. Now he would never lay his hands on the diamonds.

Watching him, Jaffe fingered the gun. He was trying to control a sick fear that was growing in his mind. Was Nhan really safe? he kept asking himself. Was this story that the gun belonged to the pilot a lie? If it was a lie, and this little Chinese had planned to kill him, something almost certainly had happened to Nhan.

But there was nothing he could do but wait to see if she arrived. Suppose she didn’t arrive? What was he going to do? What could he do? If he went to Saigon to look for her, he would walk into a hornet’s nest, and yet he couldn’t bear the idea of going without her.

The hours dragged by. Jaffe’s nerves became stretched to breaking point as he kept looking at his watch. Charlie had remained silent during the wait. He was past caring now about anything. All he wanted was to get back to his tiny sordid apartment in Hong Kong and forget the whole miserable adventure.

At twenty minutes to eleven, Jaffe could keep silent no longer.

“Damn you!” he suddenly burst out. “Where is she? Why doesn’t she come?”

The violence of his voice scared Charlie.

“What is the time?” he asked timidly.

“It’s twenty to eleven.”

Jaffe suddenly leaned forward and pressed the barrel of the gun against the back of Charlie’s neck.

“Listen to me,” he said viciously, “I think you’re lying! I think you planned to murder me to get the diamonds! What’s happened to Nhan? I’ll blow your damn head off if you don’t tell me!”

He sounds mad enough to do it, Charlie thought, stiff with terror. When he realizes she isn’t coming, he’ll kill me.

"She's not coming," he said, in a trembling voice. "I was afraid to tell you before…"

Jaffe hit him across the side of his face with the gun barrel. As Charlie cringed away, trying to protect his face with his; hands, Jaffe sprang out of the car. He threw the gun away into the darkness, then dragged Charlie out, holding him by his coat lapels, shaking him.

"What's happened to her, you yellow sonofabitch?" he shouted. "Tell me or I'll kill you!"

"They arrested her yesterday evening," Charlie gasped, trying to get his breath back. "She was taken to police headquarters."

Jaffe let the little man go. Charlie staggered back, then sat down abruptly on the hard ground. He remained there, blinking up at the vast shape standing over him.

"Police Headquarters?" Jaffe repeated. He felt a chill run up his spine and into his hair. He had heard stories of what happened to people who were taken to police headquarters. Colonel On-dinh-Khuc's reputation for cruelty was notorious.

He thought of what such a man would do to Nhan. The thought turned him sick.

"And Blackie?" he asked, trying not to believe anything as bad could have happened to Nhan.

"Blackie is dead," Charlie said. He was beyond caring now. "The girl is probably dead too by now."

No, Jaffe thought, she can't be dead: not Nhan, but I must find out. I must go to Saigon. I can't desert her. Damn it, I love her! I'll go back and rescue her. I'll offer the diamonds for her. She means more to me than anything I have ever owned.

But he didn't move. He was listening to the other voice t h a i spoke in his mind.

Suppose she is dead? By going back, you'll be just throwing' your own life away. Even if she isn't dead, this isn't something from a movie script. You will never reach Saigon. You have three police posts to pass before you get to Police Headquarters. You might possibly get past one, but not three. By going to Saigon, you'll be committing suicide.

Then he heard the distant but unmistakable sound of an approaching aircraft. He looked at his watch. The time was ten minutes to eleven. The helicopter was on time! He stared up at the dark sky, his heart beginning to thump with excitement.

Charlie also heard the sound. He got unsteadily to his feet.

"We'd better light the bonfires," he said.

He walked at first unsteadily, then more steadily towards the bonfire. He held the side of his face where Jaffe had hit him, moaning to himself.

Jaffe remained where he was. His fingers closed around the tin box containing the diamonds.

This is my only chance of escape, he thought. In a few days I shall be a rich man. I must go. It wouldn't have worked out. She was a nice kid, but I would be crazy to marry her. She would have been the wrong wife for a rich man. After all, she was only a Vietnamese taxi-dancer. She couldn't have mixed with people I shall be able to mix with now I am rich. It's not.as if I can do anything for her. I've got to think of myself. Going to Saigon would be a stupid, quixotic thing to do.

The bonfire suddenly burst into flames. Jaffa moved back as he felt the violence of its heat. The sound of the helicopter became louder.

He was thinking, she was such a poor little liar. I bet the moment they questioned her, she gave me away. It's no good thinking about it. I don't suppose they'll give her more than a year in jail. She'll be all right. It's not as if she is an American girl. These Vietnamese are used to a tough way of life.

Charlie had started the other bonfire. The helicopter was coming lower. It's whirling blade began to kick up the dust of the dry rice-field.

Jaffe walked slowly across the field to where Charlie waited.

They wouldn't hurt her, he told himself. Why should they? She was such a rotten little liar and she was as scared as a rabbit. She would tell them what they wanted to know. No, they wouldn't hurt her. I'm lucky to get away.

The helicopter settled in the middle of the field. Lee Watkins opened the cabin door. Charlie began to run towards the helicopter.

Jaffe took out his gun. He started to run too. He reached the helicopter before Charlie.

"Are you the guy I'm to take to Kratie?" Watkins asked, peering at him.

"That's right," Jaffe said.

"Hop in," Watkins said. "I want to get off."

Charlie came up, panting. Jaffe shoved his gun into Charlie's chest.

"You're not coming with me," he said. "Get the hell out of here! You can find your own way out of this damn place!"

Charlie started back, terrified at the sight of the gun.

Jaffe climbed into the cabin.

"Isn't he coming?" Watkins asked, shouting to get above the noise of the engine.

"No, he's not coming," Jaffe said. He kept the gun down by his side so Watkins couldn't see it.

Watkins leaned across him, waved to Charlie who stood miserably watching, then slammed the door.

What a stinking sonofabitch you are! the voice in Jaffe's mind said. You're not fit to be loved. You know she didn't betray you. They had her in their hands since yesterday evening. If she had betrayed you, they would have got you by now. Well, I hope you'll like living with yourself from now on. I hope you'll have fun with all your money. I hope you'll be able to get her out of your mind, but I don't think you will.

"Come on! Come on!" Jaffe shouted savagely. "Let's go!"

Charlie watched the helicopter rise into the air. He waited until it was out of sight, then he walked slowly and heavily to where he had left Blackie's car.

THE END