James Chase - A Lotus for Miss Quon

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.

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.