James Chase - A Lotus for Miss Quon

He glanced at Nhan who was pedalling away, the split sheath of her tunic floating behind her.

The chances are, he went on thinking, the police will find the car before Sam knows it’s missing. They’ll get onto the Embassy. Hell! This is really going to start something. The Embassy will try to find Sam. They’ll jump to the conclusion it was Sam driving the car. When he does turn up, maybe he’ll have to tell the police he spent the night with that Chinese girl. He’ll love that! How he’ll curse me!

Then with a slight pang of regret, he realized it now didn’t matter what Sam would think of him. He would probably never see Sam again if he had any luck. Then he had another thought that excited him.

When it’s known I was in the car and the car’s found, he reasoned, they’ll all jump to the conclusion I’ve been kidnapped by the Viet Minh. It’s the most obvious conclusion they could jump to.

He remembered two American tourists, some months ago, who had driven to Angkor and had never been heard of since. Their car had been found, but there had been no trace of them. The Vietnamese authorities had said they had been kidnapped by Viet Minh bandits and had regretfully told the Embassy there was nothing they could do about it.

Jaffe suddenly felt much more cheerful. This could mean the hunt for him would be very half-hearted. Once the Vietnam police had convinced themselves he was in the hands of the Viet Minh, they weren’t likely to exert themselves, looking for him. They would put on a face-saving show for the benefit of the American Embassy, but it wouldn’t last long.

For the first time since he had found the diamonds, he felt quite light-hearted.

Ann Fai Wah woke with a start and sat up abruptly in bed. She could hear the front door-bell ringing loudly and persistently.

She groped for the switch of the bedside lamp and turned on the light, looking at the travelling clock under the lamp as she did so. The time was twenty minutes to five.

Her almond-shaped eyes widened in alarm and she shook the fat sleeping form of Sam Wade, digging her long fingernails into the flesh of his arm.

Wade cursed sleepily, then raised his head and blinked at her.

“What’s the matter? What the hell…?”

Then he too heard the continuous ringing of the bell and he sat up, his mind suddenly awake and alarmed.

“What’s that?”

“Someone is ringing the front door-bell,” Ann Fai Wah said.

“That’s nothing to do with me,” Wade said, but the persistent and continuous sound of the bell was alarming him. Had this girl a lover or a husband? Was this the first move of the Badger game? He cursed himself for having spent the night with her. It had been a damn flop anyway: she had been as passionate and as active as a sack of rice. “What’s the time?”

Ann Fai Wah told him as she slipped out of bed. She looked deceptively beautiful in her nakedness, but Wade was far too alarmed even to look at her.

“It will wake up the whole block,” she said as she put on a silk wrap. “Please come with me.”

“To hell with that,” Wade said. “You stay right where you are!”

But she had already crossed the room and, after a moment’s hesitation, she disappeared into the sitting-room.

Cursing, Wade scrambled out of bed and got into his trousers. He looked around wildly for something he could use for a weapon, but found nothing substantial enough. He was pulling on his shirt when the bell abruptly ceased ringing.

Tucking in his shirt-tails, he tip-toed to the bedroom door to listen.

He could hear a man’s voice, then Ann Fai Wah said something, and there was a long pause.

Judas Priest! he thought, she’s let the punk in!

He was dragging his shoes on as the bedroom door pushed open and Ann Fai Wah came in. Her face was frozen into an expression of such fury that Wade quailed.

“What is it?” he said thickly, backing away from her.

“It’s the police!” she hissed at him and for a moment he thought she was going to scratch his eyes out. “They want you!”

He couldn’t believe he had heard aright.

“The police?” he stammered, turning hot, then cold. “Me?”

With a furious gesture, she waved him to the door.

“Get out of here!”

The police! he thought. They can’t pinch me for sleeping with a Chink, can they? I must have been out of my mind to have come here! There’ll be an awful stink!

He went past her into the sitting-room and she slammed the door after him. He expected to find the room full of white-uniformed policemen, but the one small man who was standing apologetically in the middle of the room came as a ridiculous anti-climax.

This man was very small and thin and shabbily dressed. His brown-skinned face was typically Vietnamese. His black hair was cut in a bad imitation of a crew-cut. His shoes were dusty, his white shirt soiled and his wine-coloured tie frayed from constant knotting and re-knotting.

Wade stared at him as he ran his sweating hand over his dishevelled hair. He knew he must look pretty awful. He never did look much until he had had a shower and a shave.

“Mr. Wade?” the little man asked politely.

“Yeah,” Wade said. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I am Inspector Ngoc-Linh of Security police. Please excuse this visit. I would not have disturbed you, but the matter is very urgent.”

Security police! Wade thought. That jolted him. This could be serious. To cover up his agitation, he moved over to an occasional table and helped himself to one of Ann Fai Wah’s cigarettes.

“How the hell did you know I was here?” he demanded. The Inspector made an apologetic gesture.

“One of my men saw you last night with the Chinese woman. Having tried to find you at your house, I came here.”

Damn yellow spies! Wade thought. You can’t even blow your nose without them knowing!

“Well, what do you want?” he asked, glaring at the Inspector.

“Your car has been stolen.”

Wade felt a rush of blood to his head. He was suddenly so angry he could have taken the little man by his throat and thrown him out of the window.

“Do you mean you came here and woke me up to tell me that?” he bellowed. “Hell! I’ll report you, for this! “I’ll… I’ll…”

“The car has been found wrecked on the Bien Hoa road,” the Inspector said quietly.

“My car?” Wade stared stupidly at the Inspector. His rage oozed out of him like air out of a pricked balloon. “Wrecked?”

“That is so,” the Inspector said, his flat black eyes never leaving Wade’s face.

That damned Jaffe! Wade thought. Wrecking my car! I must have a hole in my head to have lent it to him!

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said angrily. “The car wasn’t stolen. I lent it to a friend of mine. Where is the car? I’ll collect it sometime today.” Then a sudden thought struck him and he stiffened. “Was anyone hurt?”

“There was no one in the car,” the Inspector said. “It was abandoned.”

Well, for the love of mike! Wade thought, lashing himself into another rage. The sonofabitch wrecks my car and then calmly walks off. He hadn’t even the decency to telephone me!

”I can’t do anything about it now,” he said. “Not at this hour. You don’t expect that, do you?”

“Who was the person you lent the car to, Mr. Wade?” Wade scowled at him.

“That’s none of your damned business. I lend my car to whoever I want.”

“There has been a bad accident and it hasn’t been reported. That is a serious offence, Mr. Wade.”

That was a fact, Wade thought. All members of the diplomatic corps had been repeatedly warned that any infringement of the traffic regulations unless reported could be a serious offence. He thought viciously: serves the punk right! Smashes my car and then walks off! They’ll chew his damn cars off!”