A Lotus for Miss Quon

by James Hadley Chase

  “What contacts have you in Hong Kong?” Jaffe asked abruptly.

  Blackie’s face remained expressionless and sleepy-looking.

  “Hong Kong? I have many friends in Hong Kong,” he said. “What kind of contacts do you mean?”

  Jaffe felt like a man standing on the edge of a swimming pool, preparing to dive in. Could he trust this fat Chinese? he asked himself and hesitated.

  Seeing him hesitate, Blackie said encouragingly, “Besides my many friends, my brother also lives in Hong Kong.” There was another long pause while Blackie probed his teeth with a gold tooth-pick and,Jaffe stared out across the crowded dance floor while he tried to make up his mind whether to trust Blackie or not.

  Finally, he said, “A situation has arisen: it’s tricky and strictly confidential. A friend of mine may need a false passport.”

  Blackie gave an imperceptible start but enough to puncture his gum with the sharp point of the tooth-pick.

  “A passport?” he repeated as if he had never heard of the word.

  “I guess it would be easier to get a passport in Hong Kong than here,” Jaffe said, trying to speak casually. “I was wondering if you knew someone who could get it.”

  “An American passport?”

  “A British passport would be better.”

  “It is an illegal and dangerous business meddling with passports,” Blackie said softly. He was frankly worried. He didn’t believe Jaffe’s friend existed. This big man wanted a British passport for himself. Why? Obviously he planned to leave Vietnam, but why a false passport?

  “I know all that,” Jaffe said impatiently. “Have you any contacts who could get me a British passport?”

  “For your friend?” Blackie asked.

  “That’s what I said. He’ll he willing to pay for it.”

  “If it could be arranged it would be expensive,” Blackie said.

  “But can it be arranged?”

  Blackie put his tooth-pick into his shirt pocket.

  “It is possible. I would have to make inquiries. It would cost a lot of money.”

  “It’s urgent,” Jaffe said. “How soon could you know?”

  “I would have to write to my brother. As you know letters are often censored here. I would have to find someone I could trust to take the letter personally to my brother. He would have to find someone to bring his reply personally to me. This would take time,”

  Jaffe suddenly realized how difficult it was all going to be. His estimate of ten days before he could get away suddenly seemed ridiculously optimistic. He might have to remain in hiding for a month; even longer.

  Blackie went on, “Your friend is in trouble I suppose?”

  “Never mind the details,” Jaffe said curtly. “The less you know about it, the safer for you.”

  “That isn’t entirely correct. If it is very serious trouble and it is discovered I had something to do with it, I could also get into trouble,” Blackie said quietly. “It is unwise to walk into something you don’t know about. Besides, if the trouble was very bad, it would effect the cost of the passport. Naturally, your friend would have to pay more.”

  Out of sight, under the table, Jaffe’s big hands turned into fists. Goddam it! he thought, this is going to be a hell of a complicated thing! As soon as he reads the paper tomorrow, he’ll know I’m up against a murder rap. He’ll either be too scared to help or he’ll jack up the price to some hopeless figure. Then he remembered he had the diamonds. He could pay for the passport with a diamond or two, but if he did that, he would be tipping Blackie off he had the stones. That could be dangerous. If Blackie once discovered he had General Nguyen Van Tho’s diamonds, he might be tempted to steal them. He would have to be very careful. He was rushing into this without thinking the thing out.

  “I’ll have to talk to my friend again,” he said, not looking at Blackie. “I would have to get his permission before I could tell you more about this business.”

  “That I understand,” Blackie said. “A good friend doesn’t betray confidences recklessly.”

  Jaffe looked sharply at him, but the fat yellow face told him nothing. Jaffe thought: he’s no fool. He guesses the passport is for me. Should I admit it? He’ll certainly know when he reads the papers tomorrow. Better not. I’ve still got a little free time. I better talk to Nhan first.

  “I suppose your friend wants to leave the country?” Blackie said mildly. “He must know it is a very complicated business. The passport to be of any use would first have to have an entrance visa stamp and then an exit visa stamp would have to be obtained. There would have to be photographs of your friend for the Immigration authorities. It would be necessary to bribe a number of people. This can, of course, be arranged, but not if the trouble is serious. For instance if your friend is in trouble with the police for issuing bad cheques or for molesting some girl or for taking something that doesn’t belong to him or for running someone over, then it could be arranged, but if it is a political or a capital crime your friend has committed, then it could not be arranged.”

  Well, that’s that! Jaffe thought and he felt a restriction around his throat.

  “I’ll talk to him,” he said and Blackie recognizing the finality in his voice, got to his feet.

  “You can, of course, rely on me to help where I can,” he said, “but naturally I must avoid any trouble.”

  “That’s okay,” Jaffe said. “I understand.”

  When Blackie had gone away, Jaffe looked at his watch. The time was half past nine. It was unlikely Nhan would arrive before ten-thirty. He suddenly realized he was hungry.

  He pushed back his chair, got to his feet and moved around the dance floor to the exit.

  Across the street, was a Chinese restaurant where he often ate. He went in, nodding to the proprietor who was flicking the beads of his calculator with that incredible swiftness that made the whole operation a complete mystery to any European mind. He paused, bobbed his head and revealed big yellow teeth in a smile.

  A Chinese girl, wearing what looked like an air hostess’s uniform, led Jaffe behind screens to a single table.

  Every table in this restaurant was hidden by screens from which came the raucous sound of Chinese laughter and the clatter of numerous dishes.

  Jaffe ordered Chinese soup, sweet sour pork and fried rice. He wiped his face and hands on the hot towel offered to him by the girl who handed him the steaming towel in a pair of chromium tongs.

  While waiting for the meal to be served, Jaffe considered his problem. He was nervous of Blackie in spite of his wife’s assurance. He saw now that the problem of getting out of Vietnam would be even more complicated if he tried to buy a passport.

  So what was he going to do? He felt sure that if he had enough ready cash, he would be able to get out of Vietnam. To get the necessary cash, he would have to sell some of the diamonds. But who would buy them in Saigon?

  He was still brooding over this problem when the meal Was served. He ate hungrily, washing the food down with warm Chinese wine. When he had finished, the girl gave him another hot towel and he wiped his hands, then asked for the bill.

  The girl went away, leaving his screen half open. While he waited for the bill, he saw Sam Wade and a Chinese girl come out from behind a screen and move to the head of the stairs.

  Jaffe studied the girl with Wade. She was tall, with an exceptional figure. She was wearing a scarlet Cheongsam that accentuated the curves of her figure. She was sophisticated and looked very bored and sharply aware of her physical attractions. Jaffe decided she wasn’t the kind of woman who would appeal to him. She would be complicated. Comparing her to Nhan’s simplicity, he was suddenly very thankful and grateful that he had been lucky enough to have found Nhan.

  He waited until the two had disappeared down the stairs, then he paid his bill and went down into the street to find Nhan.

  2

  It was just on ten-thirty o’clock when Jaffe saw Nhan coming briskly along the sidewalk, weaving her way through the jostling
crowd, a slightly worried expression on her delicately-featured face. She was wearing white silk trousers and a red wine-coloured tunic sheath.

  Jaffe tapped his horn button three times, paused then tapped it again. It was their understood signal. She immediately looked in his direction and when she saw the red Dauphine her face lit up and she smiled. She started towards the car as Jaffe got out.

  It is a damn funny thing, Jaffe thought as he stood by the car waiting for her, but every time I meet her, I get a real bang out of it.

  Nhan ran up to him and looked up at him as he took her hand.

  There was that extraordinary look of adoration in her dark eyes that always startled Jaffe. It was a look he had never seen in any other woman’s eyes: it said plainly: you are the centre of my universe, without you there would be no sun, no moon, no stars, no nothing. It was a look of complete and candid love.

  Although it flattered his ego to know she loved him so completely at the same time it often embarrassed him; knowing that he himself wasn’t capable of loving her in the same way.

  “Hello,” Nhan said. “Are you feeling very fine?”

  She was very proud of the fact that she was learning English. She could speak fairly fluent French, but since she had met Jaffe she was now concentrating on English.

  “Hello,” Jaffe said and felt a constriction in his throat as he looked down at her. Her doll-like features, her smallness, and her love moved him as nothing else could move him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Tell Blackie you won’t be working tonight. I want to talk to you.” He took out his wallet and gave her some money. “Here, give this to him, and hurry, will you?”

  Her almond-shaped eyes widened as she looked at the money.

  “But, Steve, why don’t you come up? We can dance and talk. It’ll save your money.”

  “Give it to him,” Jaffe said curtly. “I can’t talk to you up there.”

  She gave him a quick, puzzled stare, then went quickly up the stairs to the club.

  Jaffe got into the Dauphine and lit a cigarette. In spite of the slight breeze, the heat oppressed him. Every now and then his mind would jump to Haum in the clothes closet. The thought of the dead man made him flinch.

  Nhan came out of the club and got into the car. As she slammed the door, Jaffe pressed the starter button and eased the car into the stream of pousse-pousse and cars.

  He drove as fast as he could towards the river. Nhan sat silent, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes on the flow of traffic.

  When they reached the ornamental gardens by the bridge, Jaffe stopped the car.

  “Let’s get out,” he said, sliding out of the car.

  She followed him over to the seat under the trees where the young Vietnamese couple had sat and they sat down. The moon floated in a cloudless sky, shedding its light on the sampans and the small rowing-boats that still moved on the river.

  As Nhan settled herself beside Jaffe, he put his arm around her slender body and kissed her. He held her against him, his mouth on hers for a long moment, then releasing her, he lit a cigarette, snapping the match into the river.

  “What’s the matter, Steve?”

  She spoke in French now, and he was aware her expression was anxious.

  He hesitated to admit anything was the matter, then realizing he was wasting time, he said, “Something’s happened. I’m in trouble. Don’t ask questions. It’s better that you don’t know. The point is I’m in bad trouble with the police. I have to get away.”

  She went rigid, her hands gripping her silk-clad knees. He could hear her quick breathing. He watched her, pitying her. As she didn’t speak, he said, “It’s bad, Nhan. I’ve got to get out of the country somehow.”

  She drew in a deep breath.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Please explain this thing to me.”

  “Something happened this afternoon. The police will be looking for me by tomorrow.”

  “What happened?”

  Jaffe hesitated, then decided to tell her. The newspapers were certain to carry the story tomorrow or the day after; then everyone would know.

  So he told her.

  Her fingers tightened on his wrist.

  “But it was an accident!” she said breathlessly. “You must tell the police! It was an accident!”

  He moved impatiently.

  “They’ll think I killed him. Don’t you understand? I’ve got to get out or I’m sunk!”

  “But it was an accident!” she exclaimed. “You must go to the police at once! They will be pleased when you give them the diamonds. Let us go to the police now!” and she started to get up.

  “I’m keeping the diamonds and I’m not going to the police,” he said in a hard, cold voice.

  She dropped back on to the seat. She lowered her head so he couldn’t see her face.

  “Don’t you see?” he said angrily. “Once I get away, I can sell the diamonds. They are worth a million dollars - probably more. It’s a chance in a lifetime. I’ve always wanted to get my hands on really big money!”

  She rocked herself to and fro in her agony of fear.

  “If you run away, they will think you killed him.” She moaned. “You mustn’t do it. No money is worth this. You must give them the diamonds!”

  “I did kill him,” he said, growing impatient. “I’m not such a fool as to risk a trial. They could put me in their stinking jail for years. We’re wasting time. Somehow, I’ve got to get out. It’ll take time to organize. I’ve got to find some safe place where I can hide. Do you know where I could hide?”

  “Hide?” She lifted her head and stared at him, terror made her look ugly. The word sparked off a panic that was pitiful to see. “What about me? Are you going to leave me?”

  “I didn’t say anything about leaving you. When I go, you’ll come with me.”

  “But I can’t! They won’t give me permission to leave. No Vietnamese can leave the country! Besides, what will happen to my mother, my brothers, my uncle, if I did leave?”

  Complications, Jaffe thought. Always complications.

  “If you want to come with me, you’ll have to leave them. But skip it: we’ll solve that one when we have to. I must find some safe place to stay for a week or so. Do you know anyone I can go to? Not in Saigon: somewhere outside.”

  She went off into a panic again.

  “But you mustn’t hide! You must go to the police!”

  She began to beg him in a torrent of hysterical words to give up the diamonds, to go to the police, to tell them the truth.

  He let her run on for a minute or so, then abruptly he stood up.

  She stopped speaking and watched him, terror making her eyes large and glistening in the moonlight.

  “Okay, okay,” he said harshly. “If you don’t want to help me, then I’ll find someone who will. I’m not going to the police and I’m not giving up the diamonds!”

  She shuddered and closed her eyes.

  He felt sorry for her, but at the same time irritated and impatient. She was wasting precious time.

  “I shouldn’t have told you about this,” he went on. “Come on: I’ll drive you back to the club. You mustn’t think any more about it. I’ll find someone else to help me.”

  She jumped up and throwing her arms around his neck, pressing her slim figure against him, she clung frantically to him.

  “I will help you!” she said wildly. “I’ll come with you when you leave! I’ll do anything you want!”

  “Okay, now relax. Sit down. If someone sees us…”

  She instantly released him and sat down. She was shaking and tears were running down her face. He sat by her side, not touching her and waited. After a while, she controlled herself and she timidly put her hand in his.

  She said suddenly, “My grandfather has a house in Thudaumot. You would be safe there. I think I could persuade him to have you.”

  Jaffe drew in a long deep breath. He put his arm around her and hugged her.

  “I knew you could help me,” he said. �
��I was relying on you. It’s going to be all right. In three or four months you and I will be in Hong Kong: we’ll be rich.”

  She leaned against him, clutching his hand. He could feel she was still shaking “I’ll buy you a mink coat,” he said. “That’s the first thing we’ll buy, and pearls. You’ll look lovely in mink. You can have a car too: a car of your own.”

  “It will be very difficult for you to leave Vietnam,” she said. “There are many restrictions and regulations.”

  He was irritated that she hadn’t reacted to the dream-he had tried to create for her. Mink, pearls and a car! She should have been excited at such a prospect, but instead she was underlining the one problem he had no idea how to solve.

  “First things first,” he said. “Let’s go and talk to your grandfather. I will pay him well. You mustn’t tell him about the police. It would be better to say I have a political enemy who is looking for me.”

  “I will tell him the truth,” Nhan said simply. “When he knows I love you, he will help you.”

  Jaffe shrugged.

  “Well, all right. I’ll leave it to you, but be sure he doesn’t rush off to the police.”

  “He would never do anything to make me unhappy,” Nhan said with so much hurt dignity that Jaffe felt slightly ashamed. “I can persuade him to help you.”

  Jaffe suddenly saw the snag in this plan.

  Thudaumot was twenty-two kilometres outside Saigon. He remembered there was a police post on the road and all cars had to stop at the post for a police check. It would be fatal to his plans if his car was checked. When the police found Haum’s body, they would check up on his car. As soon as they learned he had passed along the Thudaumot road, they would concentrate their hunt for him there.

  “There’s a police post on that road,” he said. “This could be difficult.”

  Nhan stared at him, remaining motionless, waiting while he concentrated on a solution to this snag.

  He realized after a moment’s thought that his only hope of passing through the police post was to use another car and not his own. He did know cars with C.D. plates were rarely stopped at the police posts, and he immediately thought of Sam Wade and his big Chrysler car. If he could borrow the Chrysler he stood a good chance of covering his tracks.