“You see,” Nhan said, “it is going to be all right. They don’t know what happened to Haum. They don’t know about the diamonds. They think you were kidnapped. It’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s good,” he lied. There was no point in frightening her until he had to. He went on to tell her about his meeting with Blackie. “He has agreed to let me take you with me,” he concluded. “It could be fixed by the end of the week. Who knows? In ten days, possibly less, we could be in Hong Kong.”
He saw her face cloud.
“What’s the matter? You want to go to Hong Kong with me, don’t you?”
Yes, she wanted to go, she said, but she had others to think of beside herself. There were her mother, her uncle and her three brothers. There would be no real happiness for her if she deserted them and left them to look after themselves.
Jaffe put his arm around her.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’ll fix it. I’ll get a lawyer in Hong Kong to arrange an allowance for them. Once we get out of here, I’ll be rich. You don’t have to worry about them, kid. I’ll fix it.”
While they were talking, Lieutenant Hambley and Inspector Ngoc-Linh were standing in the large sitting-room of Jaffe’s villa.
Hambley had gone all over the villa with a thoroughness that had made the Inspector uneasy.
“I knew there was more to it than kidnapping,” Hambley said, staring at the Inspector. “This guy was running away. I’ve checked with Pan Am. and I’ve dug out the record of his luggage when he first arrived here. He had three suitcases. One is missing. His shaving kit is missing. When he left here he took all his money.” He pointed his finger at the Inspector. “Jaffe was on the run. He never intended to come back here. That’s why he borrowed Wade’s car. He hoped he could bluff his way out with C.D. plates.”
This could be very awkward, the Inspector was thinking, if Hambley pursued this theory. He must convince this over-smart Lieutenant that his theory was wrong.
“I should like to speak frankly with you,” he said. “You haven’t been in Saigon very long, have you, Lieutenant?”
Hambley stared at him.
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“If I remember rightly, you came here two months ago. Two months is a very short time to get to understand the mentality and the methods of our enemy.”
Hambley shifted. He had been aware ever since he had arrived in Saigon that he wasn’t properly equipped for the job he had to do. It irritated him that he was unable to speak the language and had to work through interpreters all the time. He was continually finding the Vietnamese mentality utterly baffling.
“I don’t get any of this,” he said aggressively. “What are you driving at?”
“On the other hand,” the Inspector went on, ignoring the interruption, “we have had years of experience with these bandits. We know the sole purpose of their activities against us is to create political trouble. Nothing could please them more than to upset the good relations between your country and mine or create an unsavoury incident that would have repercussions in the world press.
Hambley became aware it was very hot in the room and that he was sweating. He took out his handkerchief and mopped his puzzled face.
“At the meeting last night,” the Inspector went on, “you raised several interesting points that you said were both mysterious and sinister. You were right in saying they were mysterious, but wrong to say they were sinister.”
“Don’t you think it’s sinister that the girl was killed as she left your headquarters and the cook has disappeared?”
“The cook hasn’t disappeared,” the Inspector said gravely. “He was found a few hours ago in the river.”
Hambley started. “He’s dead?”
“Oh yes, he’s dead.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me he committed suicide?” Hambley said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Well, this makes it even more sinister. The houseboy, his girl and now the cook - all dead. Each of them would have been able to have given me a lead. It’s damn sinister!”
The Inspector smiled patiently.
“If I were in your place, Lieutenant, I would think the same thing, but with the information I have, it is not sinister at all. It would appear to be the most natural sequence of events imaginable.”
Hambley drew in a deep breath. He felt his temper rising, but he controlled himself with an effort.
“Look, suppose we cut the cackle and get down to facts? If you know so much, let’s hear what it is!”
“The key to this apparent mystery,” the Inspector said smoothly, “is that Haum, his girl and Dong Ham were agents of Viet Minh. Once you know that, the situation is neither mysterious nor sinister.”
Hambley felt suddenly deflated and unsure of himself. To give himself time to think, he took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.
“Why didn’t you say so at the meeting?” he demanded.
“My dear Lieutenant, if I had known then I would naturally have said so, but it was only this morning that I learned of this.”
“How did you learn it?”
“There are many Viet Minh agents in Saigon. Every now and then some of them realize how much better life is here than in Hanoi. They become converts. It is through these converts we get some of our information. This particular informant was unwilling to give Haum, the girl and Dong Ham away while they were alive, but when he learned they were dead, he came to me and told me all had been active agents of the Viet Minh.”
Hambley groaned to himself. He was sure he was getting tangled up in a web of lies, but all the same, he would now have to step warily. This fantastic story just could be true.
“But what has all this to do with Jaffe’s disappearance?” he asked. “You’re not going to tell me Jaffe was a Viet Minh agent too, are you? Because frankly, if you do, I won’t believe it.”
The Inspector shook his head.
“Oh no, Lieutenant, nothing as childish as that. Tell me, what do you know about Mr. Jaffe? He is a countryman of yours. He has lived in Saigon for three years. What sort of man would you say he is or perhaps it would be more correct to say what sort of man would you say he was?”
Hambley had never met Jaffe to talk to. He had seen him a few times over a period of two months in various bars and nightclubs, but he had never taken enough interest in him to inquire about him. He realized with angry irritation that he knew absolutely nothing about,Jaffe.
Watching him, the Inspector was pleased the way the conversation was going. This over-smart young man was being steadily pushed on the defensive. He wasn’t nearly so sure of himself as he had been.
“Well, I know he was a pretty successful business man,” Hambley hedged. “He hasn’t been in trouble as far as I know, He…”
“I mean what sort of private life did he lead, Lieutenant?” the Inspector interrupted. “It is only by a man’s private life that he should be judged.”
Hambley wiped his face again.
“I know nothing of his private life,” he admitted sullenly.
The Inspector was now ready to produce one of several aces his agile mind had created during this conversation.
“You mentioned that Mr. Jaffe had drawn all his money out of the bank,” he said. “This withdrawal was done hurriedly and on a Sunday evening and through two hotels since the bank was shut. To you, Mr. Jaffe’s action suggested a man in flight. Would you not say, however, that there could be another explanation for his action?”
Hambley looked startled. He felt the blood rise to his face.
“You mean blackmail?”
“Exactly. I myself would say this is an action of a man under pressure and in need of a large sum of money and when a situation like that arises I always think of blackmail.”
Hambley found himself excusing himself.
“I had no reason to think Jaffe was a man who could be blackmailed,” he said slowly. “Have you any good reason to think so?”
The Inspect
or appeared to hesitate.
“Yes, unfortunately, Mr. Jaffe was without any doubt a pervert and a degenerate.”
Hambley stared at him. “What makes you say that?”
“There is a very simple explanation why he wanted to borrow Mr. Wade’s car and I assure you it had nothing to do with the car being equipped with C.D. plates. For some time now, Mr. Jaffe has been seen by my men trying to pick up girls in his car. For several weeks, he was unsuccessful. It seems to me to be an acceptable theory that, frustrated by his lack of success he might easily have blamed his failure on the smallness of his Dauphine rather than on the decency of the girls he tried to molest. I think Mr. Jaffe borrowed Mr. Wade’s big and rather ostentatious car in the hope of changing his luck. After all he did mention to Mr Wade he wished to use the car for an immoral purpose.”
Hambley stubbed out his cigarette.
“If he was annoying women in the streets,” he said curtly, “why didn’t your men pick him up?”
The Inspector lifted his shoulders.
“We naturally avoid arresting Americans where we can. The girls paid no attention to him. They came to no harm, and there was no official complaint made, so our men sensibly took no action although a report was sent to me.”
“This still doesn’t explain where Haum comes into it or why Jaffe was being blackmailed or why he took a gun with him or why he packed a bag. Are you suggesting he got some girl into trouble and decided to make a bolt for it?”
“Nothing of the kind, Lieutenant. This is a little more complicated than that. You may be surprised to learn that Haum was a homosexual.”
Hambley stiffened. For Pete’s sake! he thought. What’s coming next?
“I think it had been decided some time ago that Mr. Jaffe should be kidnapped and held to ransom. I think Haum and Dong Ham were planted in Mr. Jaffe’s villa for the express purpose of carrying out this kidnapping at the convenient time. However, I think Haum decided to make himself some money on the side. He demanded money from Mr. Jaffe.”
Hambley grimaced.
“You mean Jaffe and the houseboy…?”
“I think there is no doubt about that,” the Inspector said quietly. “This man was a degenerate. You will remember Mr. Wade said when he met Mr. Jaffe in the bar of the Majestic hotel he seemed ill at ease and worried? Later, he cashed the two cheques. While he was doing this, I think Haum received a telephone call. He was told to bring Mr. Jaffe to the Bien Hoa road police post. The idea was to kill two birds with one stone. To attack a police post very close to Saigon and while the bandits had men in the vicinity, to kidnap Mr. Jaffe.”
“How the hell do you know all this?” Hambley demanded. “How could Haum force Jaffe to go to the police post?”
“I don’t know all this as you put it, Lieutenant,” the Inspector said mildly. “I am advancing what seems to me to be a reasonable explanation based on my years of experience with these bandits. I suggest Haum knew Mr. Jaffe owned a gun. I think he took the gun and forced Mr. Jaffe to drive to the police post. The attack was made, but in the confusion, Mr. Jaffe tried to escape. I think he most certainly killed Haum. There are fingerprints on Haum’s face and neck. Mr. Jaffe was a very powerful man. He had only to give the boy one good shake to break his neck. I believe Mr. Jaffe was then murdered. My experience tells me that by his attack on Haum, he automatically forfeited his life.
Our enemies work like that: a life for a life. You must remember also Mr. Jaffe had 8,000 piastres on him..?
“What makes you say that?” Hambley snapped. “If your theory is right, he drew the money out to give to the boy. Surely the boy would have taken it before forcing Jaffe to drive to the police post?”
The Inspector inclined his head. He warned himself to be careful. This young man wasn’t quite the fool the Inspector thought he was.
“It is immaterial, Lieutenant, whether Mr. Jaffe or the boy had the money. One of them had it during the drive because there is no trace of it in the villa. I think Mr. Jaffe retained it when he was threatened with the gun. He could have said he hadn’t been able to raise such a sum. I think when the bandits found he had killed Haum and when they searched him and found the money, they killed him. The bandits would divide up the money between themselves before returning to headquarters. If they took Mr. Jaffe back alive, he would tell their leader about the money and the leader would recover it from his men and keep it for himself. It would be more convenient for the bandits for Mr. Jaffe to die. I feel certain that is what happened.”
Hambley rubbed his jaw while he stared at the Inspector.
“You sure have got this buttoned up haven’t you?” he said. “How about the suitcase and the shaving kit?”
“It was the intention of the Viet Minh to hold Mr. Jaffe to ransom. He would have been well cared for: naturally he would want his shaving things and a change of clothing. No doubt Haum had these packed ready when Mr. Jaffe returned to the villa.”
“And the girl and the cook?”
“They were waverers, Lieutenant. My converted informant told me that both of them would have become converts but for Haum’s influence. Once they knew he was dead, there was nothing to stop them leaving the Viet Minh influence. They were killed no doubt by orders from Hanoi as examples to waverers.”
Hambley took off his service cap and ran his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. This little monkey could be right, he was thinking. It’s a fantastic story but it holds together. If Jaffe was a queer we don’t want it spread around. It wouldn’t look so hot to have all that dirt in the newspapers.
Watching him, the Inspector saw that he had succeeded in switching the Lieutenant’s attention and interest into much less dangerous channels. He would have to see the Colonel immediately and report the interview. He only hoped the Colonel would agree and support the story he had manufactured.
Hambley got to his feet.
“I’ll have to report this,” he said.
“Of course,” the Inspector said. “Colonel On-dinh-Khuc will send in a confidential report covering all these points I have raised. Your Embassy can be sure there will be no undesirable publicity given to this unfortunate affair. If it is thought necessary we can produce proof that Mr. Jaffe was a degenerate. The reward in this morning’s papers has brought forward a number of people who have had associations with Mr. Jaffe and they would be prepared to testify, but I suggest it would be better to let the matter rest where it is. In the meantime you can rely on me to continue my search for Mr. Jaffe’s body.”
“Yeah,” Hambley said. “Well, okay. Be seeing you, Inspector,” and straightenening his cap, he shook hands with the Inspector and left.
The Inspector stood for some moments looking through the window until he heard the jeep drive away, then he walked slowly over to the picture on the wall and regarded it. It was fortunate, he thought, that the Lieutenant hadn’t thought of taking the picture down. It would have been very awkward if he had found the hole in the wall.
He stepped up to the picture and lifted it slightly, looking under it. The solid wall that met his gaze came as a shock to him. There was no sign that yesterday there had been a hole in the wall. Whoever had repaired the wall had been a highly skilled craftsman.
As he settled the picture back into place, the Inspector remembered that Lam-Than’s brother was an interior decorator.
With a troubled expression in his small black eyes, he left the villa and drove rapidly back to Security Police Headquarters.
2
Outside the Saigon airport, Blackie Lee sat in his car and picked his teeth with a splinter of bamboo. He was waiting impatiently for the passengers from the newly-arrived aircraft from Hong Kong to pass through the Customs and Immigration barriers.
He had already caught sight of his brother, Charlie, as he had left the aircraft. It was a great weight off Blackie’s mind that Charlie had answered his S 0 S so promptly.
Charlie Lee was five years older than his brother: a more serious and ambitious man, but not
nearly so well off as Blackie.
The trouble with Charlie, Blackie had often said to Yu-lan, is he won’t get down to a real job of work. He’s always looking for quick, big, easy money. He is always messing around with white elephants hoping that one of his crack-brain schemes will land him into the big money. He is always spoiling his chances by chasing the gold at the foot of a rainbow when he should have opened up a dance hall in Hong Kong the way I wanted him to.
But with a job like this one - the job of getting the American to Hong Kong - Blackie could think of no one more likely to find a solution to the problem than Charlie. If Charlie couldn’t dream up something, then the American was as good as dead.
He watched Charlie come out of the airport, pause and look around. He thought his brother looked a trifle thinner and a little more shabby than when he had last seen him four months ago.
Charlie spotted the American car and came over; Blackie got out and greeted him. The two men stood in the hot sun and talked for a few minutes. They inquired after each other’s health, then Charlie inquired after Yu-lan who he liked. Neither of them mentioned the urgent cable Blackie had sent asking his brother to drop everything and come at once.
They got into the car and drove without haste back to the club. During the drive, Blackie asked how business was, and Charlie, with a resigned lift of his hands, admitted it wasn’t good at the moment. He was having trouble with his team of rickshaw boys. Sooner or later the rickshaw would go: traffic in Hong Kong was becoming increasingly congested and was gradually edging the rickshaw off the streets. The boys knew this. They were demanding higher pay to have something to fall back on when they could no longer work. The four girls Charlie protected were also making trouble. Since the publication of that book about a prostitute in Hong Kong, the American authorities had forbidden all.American sailors in uniform to enter any of the hotels where he girls worked. This ruling had a had effect on business and to make matters worse the girls were demanding a higher percentage.
A Lotus for Miss Quon Page 12
