James Chase - A Lotus for Miss Quon

The Colonel sat at his desk, waiting. At another desk by the window Lam-Than was busy with a bulky file. He didn’t bother to look up when Nhan came in.

She stared at the Colonel, feeling a prickle of horror over her skin.

The Inspector pushed her in front of the desk.

“Nhan Lee Quon, sir,” he said.

The Colonel looked at his wrist watch. The time was fourteen minutes past six.

“You are late,” he said.

The Inspector didn’t say anything. There was a pause, then the Colonel waved him away. The Inspector went out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

The Colonel stared for a long moment at Nhan, then he leaned forward, resting his fat hands on the blotter.

“You are Nhan Lee Quon?”

Nhan nodded.

“You are a taxi-dancer at the Paradise Club?”

Again she nodded.

“You have associated with an American, Steve Jaffe?”

Her heart contracted. The sound of Steve’s name stiffened her courage. For the first time since she had entered her apartment and had been confronted by the detective, her mind began to work. This man, sitting at the desk, wanted to know where Steve was. She would have to be very careful what she said. Whatever happened to her, this man mustn’t find Steve.

“Yes.”

“When did you last see him?”

She hesitated, then said, “Sunday evening.”

“You haven’t seen him since?”

“No.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

The Colonel made an impatient movement.

“I asked you where he is.”

“I don’t know.” This time there was no hesitation. “Where were you this afternoon?”

Be careful, Nhan told herself. Be very, very careful.

“I went for a walk.”

“Where?”

“I just walked.”

The Colonel reached out for a cigarette. He lit it while he stared at the girl.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I know you are lying. I intend to find the American. You know where he is. If you tell me and when I have found him, you will be released and you can return to your family. If you don’t tell me, I will force you to speak. It is important to the State that the American should be found. It is of no importance to the State what happens to you. There are many ways of making the most obstinate person tell us what we want to know. You will save yourself a great deal of suffering, if you tell the truth now and at once. If you are obstinate, I will hand you over to men who are experts at making people talk. Do you understand?”

In twenty-nine hours, Nhan thought, Steve will be safe. If I can only keep silent until then, he will be out of their reach. Twenty-nine hours! The thought of those long hours stretching ahead of her like eternity filled her with cold despair.

“Do you understand?” the Colonel asked.

“Yes.”

“Very well.” He leaned further forward. “Where is the American, Jaffe?”

She raised her head and looked directly into the black eyes staring at her.

“I don’t know.”

The Colonel stubbed out his cigarette, then pressed a button on the side of his desk.

There was a long pause while he began to examine some papers lying before him. Lam-Than got up and brought the file over. He put it down close to the Colonel’s hand.

“You need only sign this, sir,” he said. “It is of no importance.”

Nhan felt tears running down her face. She brushed them away with the back of her hand. The sound of a door opening made her stiffen. The two little men who had drowned Dong Ham in a bucket of water came in. They paused just inside the room, waiting.

The Colonel signed the paper and handed the file to Lam-Than who returned to his desk, then he looked at the two little men.

“This woman has information I want quickly,” he said. “Take her away and break her obstinacy. Work quickly, but whatever you have to do to her to make her talk, be very sure she does not die.”

As the two little men moved towards her, Nhan began to scream.

Colonel On-dinh-Khuc was finishing a meal of Cha Gio and crab-meat which he washed down with warm Chinese wine. From time to time he glanced at the gold clock on his desk. The time was twenty minutes to nine.

The woman had been in the hands of his men now for three hours. The fact that the information he was waiting for hadn’t already been conveyed to him surprised him. Up to now his men had been able to obtain information from their victims very speedily. This delay irritated him, but he had considerable confidence in his men. It was this woman and her ridiculous obstinacy that irritated him. He made a snarling grimace. Well, she was paying dearly for her obstinacy. His men were without pity. He wouldn’t wish to be a woman in their hands.

He pushed aside his bowl and reached for an apple. This he polished on his sleeve before sinking his teeth into it. He was chewing slowly, relishing the taste of the apple when there came a tap on the door and Lam-Than came in.

“The woman is now ready to talk,” he said. “Do you wish to question her yourself?”

The Colonel took another bite from the apple.

“She has taken her time. What degree of severity was used?”

“The maximum,” Lam-Than said. “Knowing you wanted the information quickly, she was subjected to continuous pressure. She has only given in a few moments ago.”

The Colonel finished his apple, then pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

“I will question her myself,” he said. “Come with me.”

They left the office and walked down a passage, down a flight of stairs to the room where prisoners were questioned.

It was a small room: its floor and walls tiled in white. A steel table, its feet clamped to the floor, stood under a powerful ceiling lamp.

Nhan lay on the table, her wrists and ankles held by straps. Her eyes were closed. Her face drawn and lined was greenish yellow. She breathed unevenly in short shuddering gasps.

The two little men squatted side by side away from her.

Both of them looked sweaty and bored. They stood up when the Colonel came in.

He went over to Nhan and stood looking down at her.

“Well? Where is the American, Jaffe?”

Nhan’s eyes opened slowly: they were misty as if she were only half conscious. She mumbled something the Colonel couldn’t hear.

One of the little men came over to her and slapped her face. Her eyes opened wider and she cringed. Tears began to run down her face.

“Where is the American, Jaffe?”

The continuous torture she had been subjected to and the resulting agony had warned Nhan that further resistance was out of the question. She might, she told herself, be able to remain silent for perhaps another hour, but sooner or later, unless she gained a respite, she would break down and betray Steve. Already by suffering and resisting she had gained three hours for him, but the twenty-six remaining hours that stretched ahead of her before he would be safe was, she knew, an impossible test of endurance: she had to gain time. She had to convince this man bending over her that Steve was somewhere far from Thudaumot. While they were looking for him in this place, she would be able to gain strength to resist the next assault on her shuddering body.

“In Dalat,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

A few months ago Steve had taken her for a week-end to Dalat; a summer resort in the mountains where people went to escape the heat of the City. She remembered it well enough to lie about it.

“Where in Dalat?” the Colonel asked, scowling.

“In a house.”

“Who owns the house?”

“An American.”

“Where is the house?”

“It is the third house by the railway station: a house with a red roof and a yellow gate,” Nhan said, keeping her eyes closed, terrified he would know she was lying.