James Chase - A Lotus for Miss Quon

He had told her she must get back to Saigon as quickly as possible. He had already asked her grandfather about the buses back. There was one at six o’clock - in an hour’s time. She must go on that. On no account must she tell her mother or her uncle or her three brothers where she had been.

Nhan sat huddled up against the wall, staring at Steve while he talked. Cold terror again paralysed her mind. She kept nodding her head as he talked, trying to appear to be listening intelligently. She wanted so desperately to be strong and win Steve’s approval, but she could see, as he talked to her, there was that exasperated, angry expression that came to his face whenever he talked to her about anything she didn’t grasp immediately.

“Are you listening?” he demanded. “Don’t sit there, for Pete’s sake, looking like a damn mesmerized rabbit! All you have to tell them is we went to the river, we talked and I took you home at eleven o’clock. I drove away and you haven’t seen me since. That’s simple enough, isn’t it?”

Was it? She thought with hopeless despair of her mother and her uncle when she tried to persuade them to believe that she had slept in her bed from eleven onwards when they would know she hadn’t slept in her bed at all. Her uncle was a simple and difficult man. He always waited up for her until she returned from Paradise Club. She knew she would have to talk for hours before there was a hope of persuading him that she had been in bed by eleven. Unless she told him the truth, and that was unthinkable, she didn’t think she could convince him.

“Wake up!” Steve had said sharply, shaking her arm. “It’s simple enough, isn’t it?”

Because she was afraid to excite his contempt, she had nodded dumbly.

“And you mustn’t tell anyone about the diamonds,” he went on, lowering his voice. “No one. You understand that, don’t you?”

Again she nodded.

He made a movement of exasperation, then stood up and began to pace up and down the small room.

“I’ll want some cigarettes,” he said. “Get me two hundred Luckies. I expect you’ll find a bus that comes out here this afternoon, and don’t forget to bring a newspaper with you.”

Again she nodded.

“I’ll probably have decided by the time you come again what I’m to do,” he went on. “Be careful of Blackie Lee. He’s certain to ask questions. I’ve got to decide if I can trust him or not. If he questions you, be careful you don’t let on where I am.” He had looked around the small, skimpily-furnished room. The quicker I’m out of this dump the better, but I mustn’t take risks… You rest for a while. You have nearly an hour before the bus goes. I’m going to get rid of those two bicycles.”

He had started for the door. In a panic, Nhan had flung her arms around him.

“Don’t leave me,” she had begged. “I’m frightened! Isn’t there some other way? Wouldn’t it be better to go to the police? If you gave them the…”

“Stop it!” he had said roughly, pushing her away. “I told you: not a word about the diamonds! I’m keeping them! Do what I’m telling you and it’ll work out all right!”

He had left her, her head in her hands, hopeless in her misery.

Ten minutes before the bus was due to leave, just when it was beginning to get light, he had returned. He had told her he had dumped the two bicycles in the river.

As the bus arrived at the Saigon Central Market, she thought of her parting with him. He had suddenly become tender, but his tenderness hadn’t reduced her terror. With him she was sure she could face anything, but to have to cope with this deception alone filled her with hopeless despair.

As she hurried along the narrow streets towards her apartment, wondering how she could persuade her mother and her uncle to believe the lies she had to tell, Colonel On-dinh-Khuc was completing his instructions to Inspector Ngoc-Linh.

He was saying that he had reason to believe that the American, Steve Jaffe, hadn’t been kidnapped by the Viet Minh. For reasons as yet unknown, Jaffe had murdered his houseboy. That was an established fact. It would be very convenient for Jaffe if it were believed he had been kidnapped. There was a possibility that Jaffe had gone into hiding and would attempt to leave the country, he must be prevented from doing so.

The Inspector was to make inquiries. He was to satisfy the Colonel that either Jaffe had been kidnapped or was hiding. If he was in hiding, the Inspector was to discover his hiding place. When the hiding place was discovered, he was to make no move to arrest the American. He was to tell the Colonel where the American was hiding and the Colonel would then decide what action to take.

Dong-Ham and My-Lang-To were to be taken to Security Police Headquarters. They were to talk to no one, but put in separate cells and to remain under lock and key until the Colonel interrogated them personally. Any information he obtained from them would be passed on to the Inspector to assist him in his search for the American.

The Colonel would report to the President that the American had been kidnapped, and no doubt, the President would have this information conveyed to the American Ambassador. The Inspector should understand it would be against the interests of the State for the American Ambassador to be told that Jaffe had murdered his houseboy. This unfortunate incident must remain a secret, and the Colonel would hold the Inspector responsible for keeping it a secret.

There was a pause, then the Colonel went on, “The body of the houseboy must be discovered near the police post. It will be presumed that he was with the American when they were attacked by the bandits. While the American was kidnapped, the boy was killed. Is that understood?”

Inspector Ngoc-Linh’s small black eyes flickered, but he said stolidly, “It is understood, sir.”

He watched Colonel Khuc and Lam-Than leave the villa, get into the police car and drive away. As soon as they had gone, he relaxed and moved around the room, his brownface puzzled. Then he looked at the picture on the wall. He pulled up a chair, stepped up on it and raised the picture. He stared at the hole in the wall, then he settled the picture back in its place, replaced the chair and moved thoughtfully across the room and into the kitchen.

On the other side of the town in a small sparsely-furnished room, Nhan squatted in front of her mother and her uncle and explained for the second time what they were to say if the police questioned them about her whereabouts the previous night.

Nhan’s mother was a tiny woman of forty-six. She had on a shabby wrap and her hair hung loose, framing her dried-up wrinkled face. She looked a lot older than her years. Her husband had been a waiter at the Majestic Hotel. He had been killed in a road accident some years ago and she had had a struggle to keep the home together which she had done by selling flowers in the market. It had been a fortunate thing when Blackie Lee had come to her and suggested that Nhan should work at his club. Since Nhan had been at the club, her mother had given up flower selling. She had even invited her brother to live with them.

Her brother was considerably older than her. He was a fat, stupid man who told fortunes outside the Tomb of Marshal Le-van-Duyet. He wasn’t a good fortune teller and consequently he made very little money. He was glad to have free board and lodging.

“If the police come here,” Nhan said, speaking slowly, “you must say that I came home at eleven and went to bed. It is most important that you should say this.”

Her uncle squinted at her, frowning.

“How can I say such a thing when you were out all night?” he finally asked. “I was here all the evening. Your bed hasn’t been slept in.”