“She was the general’s woman,” Haum said con-temptuously.”When he died, she went to prison. This was her house. The general must have hidden these stones here for safety.”
“If the authorities knew the woman lived here, why didn’t they come and find the diamonds?” Jaffe asked.
“It was thought the diamonds had been stolen,” Haum said, reaching under a chair to pick up a stray diamond. “It was supposed the general had them on him when the bomb went off, and in the confusion, someone took them from his body.”
“What bomb?” Jaffe asked, merely to gain a little time. He was wondering how he could persuade Haum to keep quiet about the diamonds. He would have to be very tactful. He would have to give Haum a face-saving reason why he should hand the diamonds over to him and to persuade him to accept some of the proceeds. Jaffe couldn’t imagine Haum would refuse a sum of money if it were offered to him in a diplomatic way.
“It was while the general was trying to escape that someone threw a bomb at him,” Haum said. He stood up and stared at the diamonds glittering in his hand.
Jaffe moved to his desk and took out a white envelope from the paper rack. Casually, he approached Haum. Tut them in here,” he said, pinching open the envelope. Haum hesitated, then he poured the diamonds into the envelope. He made a tentative move to take the envelope from Jaffe, but Jaffe had already started to move away from him. Jaffe licked the flap of the envelope, then sealed it. He put the envelope in the hip pocket of his shorts.
A worried expression came over Haum’s brown face.
“It would be better, sir, to call the police,” he said. “They will want to see the wall. I will tell them how you found the diamonds. In this way, there will be no complications.”
Jaffe stubbed out his cigarette. He was feeling slightly more relaxed. At least he had got the diamonds away from Haum. That was a step in the right direction. He must now attempt to persuade Haum to keep his mouth shut.
“Don’t let’s be in too great a hurry about this,” he said, and moving over to an armchair, he sat down. “I don’t believe these diamonds did belong to the general. If I took the trouble to check on the various owners of this house, I’m sure I’d find the diamonds belonged to someone long dead and who lived here long before the general came here. It is more than possible that the general’s diamonds were stolen at the time of his death.”
Haum gazed at him; his face expressionless. Jaffe could see the little man wasn’t impressed by what he had said and he felt a wave of irritation run through him.
“That is for the police to decide, sir,” Haum said. “If the diamonds belong to the general, his Excellency will be very pleased to recover them, and you will be highly honoured.”
“Well, that’s nice to know,” Jaffe said sarcastically, “but it so happens I’m not interested in honours. Besides, the police will naturally claim they do belong to the general.” He attempted a stiff smile. “You know what policemen are like.”
He saw this was a mistake for Haum lost his worried expression and became suddenly hostile.
The diamonds, sir, belong to the State whether or not they once belonged to the general. It is not for anyone except the State to decide what to do with them.”
“That’s your opinion,” Jaffe said, his voice curt. “I could sell these diamonds. Naturally, I would give you a share. You could become a rich man, Haum.”
Well, there it is, he thought. Now the cards are on the table. What’s the little bastard going to do?
Haum stiffened. His black eyes opened to their widest extent.
“It would be against the regulations to sell the diamonds,” he said.
“The authorities won’t know about it,” Jaffe said. “I can sell the diamonds and I will give you a share.”
“I think it would be better to tell the police, sir,” Haum said stiffly.
“Don’t you want to become rich?” Jaffe felt the hopelessness of trying to corrupt this little man, but he wasn’t going to give up without a struggle. “You could have a house of your own and servants. You could marry that girl of yours who is always hanging around here. You could buy a car.”
Haum lifted his shoulders.
“The diamonds, sir, are not mine to sell, nor yours. They belong to the State.”
Well, that’s that, Jaffe thought. He felt a sudden vicious rage take hold of him. Here I have a million bucks in my pocket and because of this damn yellow monkey, the money’s going down the drain. There must be some way out of this jam. To give up a million dollars!
Haum said, “If you will excuse me, sir, it is my afternoon off. I have an appointment.”
It suddenly flashed into Jaffe’s mind that once Haum left the room, he would first tell Dong Ham, the cook, about the diamonds, then dash off to the police station and within ten minutes, the house would be full of trigger-happy policemen. He got quickly to his feet and stepped between Haum and the door leading to the courtyard.
“Now, wait a minute,” he said, “you’re going to keep your goddam mouth shut about this or I’ll skin you alive!”
He had no idea how menacing he looked when he was angry. His huge, towering figure, his hard, angry expression and the viciousness in his voice struck terror into Haum. The Vietnamese had now only one thought: to get out of the room and tell the police about the diamonds. He darted around the table, along the wall, putting the table between himself and Jaffe, and then made a wild dash for the door.
In spite of his size, Jaffe had perfect balance and his body, still hard in spite of his drinking and his lack of exercise, responded to his quick mind to a degree Haum hadn’t suspected.
As Haum’s sweating fingers closed over the door handle, Jaffe’s fingers closed over his shoulder and jerked him around. Haum was horrified by the strength of those fingers. It was as if his flesh was being squeezed in steel pincers. The agony of the grip made him cry out: a thin scream like that of a terrified rabbit. He tried to break free, struck feebly at Jaffe’s wrist, then opened his mouth to scream again.
Jaffe clamped his hand over Haum’s mouth, digging his fingers into the Vietnamese’s face, cutting off his scream. Haum writhed in the grip, trying to bite Jaffe’s hand while he kicked at Jaffe’s legs: his soft soled shoes making no impression on Jaffe’s hard muscles.
“Shut up!” Jaffe snarled and gave the Vietnamese a vicious shake.
He heard a faint dry sound like the snapping of a stick. Haum’s face suddenly became heavy in his fingers and seemed to come adrift from his thin neck. Jaffe saw his eyes roll back and felt his knees sag. He found he was holding the Vietnamese up by his face and that his legs were no longer supporting him.
In sudden panic, Jaffe released his grip and watched Haum slide down against the wall and spread out on the floor like a doll whose sawdust had leaked away.
He saw a trickle of bright-red blood coming from Haum’s half-open mouth. He knelt beside the Vietnamese and touched him cautiously.
“Hey… Haum! Hell! What’s the matter with you?”
Then with a shudder, he stood up.
The full force of his predicament struck him.
Haum was dead, and he had murdered him!
Chapter Two
1
With a violently thumping heart, Jaffe stared down at Haum’s crumpled body. His immediate reaction was to get help. He turned to the telephone, but paused, frowning and shaking his head.
There was nothing anyone could do now for Haum. He was dead. This was not the moment to think of him, but of himself.
He looked at the ladder standing against the wall. Suppose he told the police that Haum had fallen off the ladder and had accidentally broken his neck?
His eyes shifted to the hole in the wall. The moment the police saw that hole they would suspect it had been a hiding-place for something. They would remember that this house had once belonged to Mai Chang, General Nguyen Van Tho’s mistress. It wouldn’t take them long to assume that the general’s diamonds had been hidden in the wall.<
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Jaffe moved over to Haum’s body. He peered down at the little man. He saw the skin around Haum’s mouth and throat was bruised and broken. These tell-tale marks would rule out any story of an accident with the ladder.
Suppose he told the police that he had come upon Haum stealing the diamonds and that Haum had attacked him and that during the struggle, Haum had been accidentally killed? Such a story might get him off a murder charge, but it would mean giving up the diamonds, and there was always the risk he would receive a prison sentence.
It was at this moment that Jaffe made up his mind that whatever the risk, he was going to stick to the diamonds, and having decided this, his panic subsided and he began to think more clearly.
If he could get to Hong Kong with the diamonds, he could get lost without any difficulty. He would be a very rich man. He could begin a new life. With the money from the sale of the diamonds, he would be free to do anything he liked. But the trick question was, of course: how to get to Hong Kong?
He poured himself a stiff shot of whisky, drank half of it, then after he had lit a cigarette, he finished the drink.
You couldn’t leave Vietnam just when you thought you would, he reminded himself. The authorities entangled all travellers in a web of restrictions and regulations. You first had to apply for an exit visa, and the granting of this could take a week. Then there were forms to fill in regarding the movement of currency. There were photographs to be supplied. He couldn’t hope to get out under ten days, and in the meantime, what would be happening to Haum’s body?
A sudden sound broke in on his thoughts that made him stiffen and set his heart thumping again. Someone was knocking on the back door!
He stood motionless, scarcely breathing while he listened.
The gentle knock came again, then he heard the back door creak open.
In a surge of panic, he stepped over Haum’s body and moved into the kitchen, closing the sitting-room door behind him.
Dong Ham, his cook, was standing on the top step, the back door half open and he peered cautiously into the kitchen.
The two men stared at each other.
Dong Ham appeared to be very old. His brown face was a network of wrinkles, like crushed parchment. His thin white hair grew in straggly wisps from his bony skull. Wisps of white hair sprouted from his chin. He wore a black high-collared jacket and black trousers.
Had he heard Haum’s cry for help? Jaffe wondered. It was possible that he had; why else should he be standing here? He never entered the house. His place was in the cookhouse across the courtyard, and yet here he was about to walk in, and Jaffe was sure if he hadn’t moved so quickly, the old man would have come into the sitting-room.
“What is it?” Jaffe asked, aware his voice sounded husky.
Dong Ham picked at a lump of hard skin on the side of his hand. His watery black eyes shifted from Jaffe to the door leading to the sitting-room.
“Haum is wanted, sir,” he said. He spoke French badly and slowly. He pushed back the door and moved to one side so Jaffe had a clear view of the outer courtyard and the cookhouse.
Standing in the shade of the cookhouse building was a Vietnamese girl. She was in white and her conical straw hat hid her face. For a moment, Jaffe thought she was Nhan, and his heart gave a little lurch of surprise, then the girl looked up and he saw she was Haum’s fiancée.
Jaffe had often seen this girl waiting with Asian patience for Haum to finish his work. Haum had told him he planned to marry the girl when he had finished his political studies.
Jaffe had never paid any attention to the girl. He had only been vaguely aware of her when he went out to get the car from the garage, but now, he stared at her, realizing how dangerous she could be to him.
How long had she been here? he wondered. Had she too heard Haum’s cry?
The girl looked very young. She wore her hair in a ponytail that hung in a black thick rope to her tiny waist. For a Vietnamese, he thought, she was very plain and unattractive.
By the tense way she was standing and by her staring alarmed eyes, Jaffe was sure she had heard the cry, but had she recognized Haum’s voice?
Jaffe suddenly became aware that both the old man and the girl were regarding him in a hostile, suspicious way, although both of them were obviously uncertain of themselves and frightened.
Jaffe said the first thing that came into his mind: “Haum has gone out. I have lent him to a friend to help with a dinner party. It’s no use you waiting for him. He won’t be back until late.”
Dong Ham slowly backed down the three steps that led up to the kitchen. His wrinkled face was expressionless. Jaffe looked quickly at the girl. She had lowered her head. The straw hat hid her face.
He crossed to the back door and shut it gently, then very quietly he slid home the bolt. Then he stepped to the shuttered window and peered through one of the slits into the courtyard.
The old man was staring blankly at the closed door and he picked nervously at the hard skin of his hand. The girl too was staring at the door. She said something. The old man went to her with slow, shuffling steps. They began jabbering together: their voices discordant and loud in the hot silence of the courtyard.
Not a good lie, Jaffe thought uneasily, but the best he could have thought of in the circumstances. He had had to say something. It was true that from time to time he did lend Haum to one or the other of his friends who happened to be throwing a party. On these occasions Haum always wore his white drill coat and trousers. He always spent some time in preparing himself. He enjoyed these outings, and invariably boasted to Dong Ham where he was going.
This Sunday, he had worn his blue working dress. He would never have gone to any of Jaffe’s friends in this dress. The old man would know that. He and the girl had only to go to Haum’s sleeping quarters, to find the white drill clothes and nail Jaffe’s lie to the mast. Then what would they do? Jaffe wondered. He felt pretty certain they wouldn’t have the initiative nor the courage to call the police. Even if they had heard Haum’s cry and knew he was lying about Haum going out, they wouldn’t go to the police. Probably they would wrangle and talk together for the rest of the evening. They would try to persuade each other they hadn’t heard the cry. They would try to believe that Haum had gone out wearing his blue working ciothes. But eventually, of course, they would be forced to accept the fact that something had happened to Haum, and then trouble would begin for Jaffe.
At least he had a little time. He felt certain these two would wait to see if Haum returned. They would wait until the morning, then, possibly,
the girl would go to the police.
Jaffe returned to the sitting-room. He stood looking down at Hum’s body with revulsion. He felt tempted to go to someone and ask for help. Maybe if he went to the Embassy…
He took a grip on himself.
I’ve got to keep my nerve, he said to himself. I’ve got to gain time. I’ve got to work out a way to get out of this goddam country. But first things first. I can’t leave him lying here. Suppose someone called? You never knew who might drop in on a Sunday afternoon. I must get him upstairs and out of sight.
Steeling himself, he picked Haum up and carried him upstairs. The little man was a pathetically light burden: it was like carrying a child.
Jaffe went into his bedroom. He put Haum down gently on the floor, then he went over to his big clothes closet, opened it, made space at the bottom of the closet and then put Haum in a sitting position in the closet, his back against the wall. He hastily shut the closet door. He turned the key and put it in his pocket.
Although the bedroom was cool, he went over to the air conditioner and turned the machine on fully. He was feeling slightly sick, and it irritated him that his legs felt boneless, and the muscles in his thighs were fluttering.
He went down the stairs and bolted the front door, then he went into the sitting-room. Several large bottle flies were buzzing excitedly around the small patch of drying blood on the parquet floor. Grimacing, Jaffe looked
from the blood to the hole in the wall and at the mess of dust and plaster on the floor. He must clear up this mess, he told himself. If someone came…
He went into the kitchen but there was nothing there he could use to sweep up the dust or wipe off the blood. All the house things were kept in the cookhouse. This discovery worried him. He glanced through the slit in the shutter.
Dong Ham and the girl were out of sight, but he could hear their voices coming through the open window of Haum’s room. They had probably discovered by now that Haum hadn’t changed his clothes.
Jaffe took out his handkerchief, dipped it in water and then went back into the sitting-room. He squatted down and wiped away the patch of blood. It left a brownish stain on the polished parquet, and although he scrubbed at it for some minutes, he couldn’t get rid of it.
After he had flushed the soiled handkerchief down the toilet, he returned to pick up the largest pieces of plaster. Then he knelt and blew at the plaster dust, distributing it about the floor. It now didn’t look quite so obvious. It was the best he could do. He wrapped the bits of plaster in a sheet of newspaper and left the small bundle on the table.
He would have to do something about the hole in the wall, he told himself. When the police eventually came and when they saw the hole, they would guess very quickly what had been in the hole.
He searched for and found the nail, then he climbed the ladder and gently tapped the nail into the wall, just above the hole. He reached down and picked up the picture and hung it in place, concealing the hole.
He stepped back and looked at the picture. There was just a chance the police wouldn’t think to look behind it: not much of a chance, but still, a chance.
He carried the ladder into the kitchen and put the hammer in the tool drawer. He felt the need for a drink and he went back into the sitting-room and poured himself another stiff shot of whisky. As he lifted the glass to his lips, the telephone bell began to ring: a violent, persistent sound that shattered the silence in the room and made Jaffe start so violently the glass of whisky jumped out of his hand and smashed to pieces on the floor, spraying whisky and water over his bare feet.
A Lotus for Miss Quon Page 2
