A Lotus for Miss Quon

by James Hadley Chase

  The rice-field was concealed from the road by trees and shrubs. As the car bumped over the rough ground, black and lemon butterflies as big as bats rose out of the bamboos while egrets flew in panic across the darkening sky.

  Charlie brought the car to a halt and got out. Jaffe, his legs stiff and his body aching from the cramped ride, also got out.

  “We must prepare two large bonfires,” Charlie said. “The pilot will have trouble locating this place. When we hear him coming, we will set fire to the bonfires.”

  “He won’t be here for four hours,” Jaffe said. “There is plenty of time. How did the police find out I was at the old man’s place?”

  “You were seen at the window,” Charlie said, remembering what YoYo had told Blackie. “There is a reward offered for information about you. This peasant who saw you claimed the reward.”

  Jaffe cursed himself for being so careless.

  “But how did you find this out?” he persisted.

  “Blackie has a good friend at Police Headquarters,” Charlie lied.

  “What will they do with the old man?”

  “You needn’t worry about him. They will do nothing. The newspaper carrying the offer for the reward doesn’t circulate in Thudaumot. How was he to know you were wanted by the police?”

  Jaffe relaxed slightly. It was the kind of news he wanted to hear so he readily accepted it.

  “And Nhan? Where is she?”

  “She is safe,” Charlie said. “She is with Blackie. When it is dark Blackie will bring her here.” He began to move away. “We should begin to build the bonfires.”

  The two men parted and began to collect sticks and dried grass.

  While he worked, Charlie wondered if he could persuade the American to leave without Nhan. It was a risk. He might refuse. Charlie realized that it would be safer to kill him before the helicopter arrived. He couldn’t kill him if Watkins was there. Watkins would blackmail him for the rest of his life.

  He looked across the rice-field to where Jaffe was working. The American’s massive figure was outlined against the darkening sky.

  Charlie decided he must wait until it was darker, then he would get the gun, conceal it by his side and when he was close to Jaffe, he would shoot him at point-blank range. He would tell Watkins his passenger had changed his mind and wasn’t coming. He would go with Watkins to Kratie. By this time tomorrow he would be safe in Hong Kong with two million dollars worth of diamonds.

  He was glad to have the bonfire to build. It took his mind off Jaffe. It was just after eight when the two men completed their tasks. By then it was so dark, Charlie had difficulty in finding the car.

  He could see Jaffe coming across the field by the red spar of his cigarette. He opened the car door and felt around on the floor for his briefcase, but he couldn’t find it. In a sudden sweating panic, he got into the car, turned on the dashlight and looked frantically on the floor, but his briefcase wasn’t there. He could have sworn he had put it on the floor just before he had got out of the car. Maybe it had fallen out of the car as he had got out. It must have fallen out As he got out of the car, Jaffe loomed out of the darkness.

  What were you showing a light for?” Jaffe demanded. “It could have been seen from the road.”

  Charlie felt a trickle of cold sweat run down his face. “Yes,” he said, trying to steady his voice. “I should have thought of that.”

  He was cautiously moving his foot over the ground, trying to locate the briefcase, but he felt nothing. He moved back a few steps and again started searching the ground with his foot.

  “What time will Nhan arrive?” Jaffe asked, coming round the car to join Charlie.

  Suppose the American stumbled on the briefcase? Charlie thought, his heart beating so hard he felt stifled. If he picked it up, he would feel the gun through the thin leather of the case. He moved forward, meeting Jaffe before Jaffe reached the door of the car.

  “She won’t be late,” Charlie said. “She’ll be here just before eleven.”

  Jaffe peered at his wrist-watch.

  “Nearly three hours to wait. I guess I’ll sit in the car.”

  “The other side,” Charlie said, backing away to cover the driver’s door. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

  “I wish I had a drink,” Jaffe said as he started around the car towards the passenger’s seat. “This is going to be a hell of a long wait.”

  Charlie bent down and hurriedly searched the grass with his hands. It was so dark he could see nothing. Sweat ran into his eyes. He groped as far under the car as he could reach, but his questing hands failed to find the briefcase. Then suddenly he heard Jaffe say, “Hello… what’s this?”

  With a feeling of sick dismay, Charlie realized somehow he must have kicked the briefcase across the car and it had fallen out on the passenger’s side.

  Jaffe had found it!

  He ran round the car.

  “It’s my briefcase,” he said, his voice quivering with panic. “Let me have it please.”

  “Wait a minute.” The hard note in Jaffe’s voice brought Charlie to a standstill. “You’ve got a gun in here. What do you want a gun for?”

  “It belongs to the pilot,” Charlie said desperately. “He lent it to Blackie. I - I promised to return it. May I have it please?”

  Jaffe was stiff with suspicion. He opened the briefcase and took out the gun. His fingers felt along the long barrel of the silencer.

  “May I have it please?” Charlie repeated but without hope.

  “No. I’ll give it to the pilot,” Jaffe said. “I don’t like guns lying around. Get in the car!”

  Moving like an old man, Charlie opened the car door and got in. Jaffe went to the rear of the car and got in the back.

  “You sit still,” Jaffe said. “I’m watching you.”

  Charlie could have wept with despair. For the past fifteen years everything he had touched had gone wrong. Either he had handled his deals badly or else he never had any luck. This was crushing bad “Irk. If he hadn’t dropped the briefcase…

  “This is a pretty convenient gun for a murder,” Jaffe said. “You weren’t thinking of murdering me, were you?”

  “Such an idea never crossed my mind,” Charlie said, trying to speak with dignity. “Why should I murder you?”

  “Just sit still and keep quiet,” Jaffe said. “If you make any sudden move, I’ll shoot you through the back of your head.”

  Charlie slumped down in his seat, crushed. He had lost his brother, and through the worst of bad luck he had lost the gun. He was defenceless against the strength of the American. Now he would never lay his hands on the diamonds.

  Watching him, Jaffe fingered the gun. He was trying to control a sick fear that was growing in his mind. Was Nhan really safe? he kept asking himself. Was this story that the gun belonged to the pilot a lie? If it was a lie, and this little Chinese had planned to kill him, something almost certainly had happened to Nhan.

  But there was nothing he could do but wait to see if she arrived. Suppose she didn’t arrive? What was he going to do? What could he do? If he went to Saigon to look for her, he would walk into a hornet’s nest, and yet he couldn’t bear the idea of going without her.

  The hours dragged by. Jaffe’s nerves became stretched to breaking point as he kept looking at his watch. Charlie had remained silent during the wait. He was past caring now about anything. All he wanted was to get back to his tiny sordid apartment in Hong Kong and forget the whole miserable adventure.

  At twenty minutes to eleven, Jaffe could keep silent no longer.

  “Damn you!” he suddenly burst out. “Where is she? Why doesn’t she come?”

  The violence of his voice scared Charlie.

  “What is the time?” he asked timidly.

  “It’s twenty to eleven.”

  Jaffe suddenly leaned forward and pressed the barrel of the gun against the back of Charlie’s neck.

  “Listen to me,” he said viciously, “I think you’re lying! I thin
k you planned to murder me to get the diamonds! What’s happened to Nhan? I’ll blow your damn head off if you don’t tell me!”

  He sounds mad enough to do it, Charlie thought, stiff with terror. When he realizes she isn’t coming, he’ll kill me.

  "She's not coming," he said, in a trembling voice. "I was afraid to tell you before…"

  Jaffe hit him across the side of his face with the gun barrel. As Charlie cringed away, trying to protect his face with his; hands, Jaffe sprang out of the car. He threw the gun away into the darkness, then dragged Charlie out, holding him by his coat lapels, shaking him.

  "What's happened to her, you yellow sonofabitch?" he shouted. "Tell me or I'll kill you!"

  "They arrested her yesterday evening," Charlie gasped, trying to get his breath back. "She was taken to police headquarters."

  Jaffe let the little man go. Charlie staggered back, then sat down abruptly on the hard ground. He remained there, blinking up at the vast shape standing over him.

  "Police Headquarters?" Jaffe repeated. He felt a chill run up his spine and into his hair. He had heard stories of what happened to people who were taken to police headquarters. Colonel On-dinh-Khuc's reputation for cruelty was notorious.

  He thought of what such a man would do to Nhan. The thought turned him sick.

  "And Blackie?" he asked, trying not to believe anything as bad could have happened to Nhan.

  "Blackie is dead," Charlie said. He was beyond caring now. "The girl is probably dead too by now."

  No, Jaffe thought, she can't be dead: not Nhan, but I must find out. I must go to Saigon. I can't desert her. Damn it, I love her! I'll go back and rescue her. I'll offer the diamonds for her. She means more to me than anything I have ever owned.

  But he didn't move. He was listening to the other voice t h a i spoke in his mind.

  Suppose she is dead? By going back, you'll be just throwing' your own life away. Even if she isn't dead, this isn't something from a movie script. You will never reach Saigon. You have three police posts to pass before you get to Police Headquarters. You might possibly get past one, but not three. By going to Saigon, you'll be committing suicide.

  Then he heard the distant but unmistakable sound of an approaching aircraft. He looked at his watch. The time was ten minutes to eleven. The helicopter was on time! He stared up at the dark sky, his heart beginning to thump with excitement.

  Charlie also heard the sound. He got unsteadily to his feet.

  "We'd better light the bonfires," he said.

  He walked at first unsteadily, then more steadily towards the bonfire. He held the side of his face where Jaffe had hit him, moaning to himself.

  Jaffe remained where he was. His fingers closed around the tin box containing the diamonds.

  This is my only chance of escape, he thought. In a few days I shall be a rich man. I must go. It wouldn't have worked out. She was a nice kid, but I would be crazy to marry her. She would have been the wrong wife for a rich man. After all, she was only a Vietnamese taxi-dancer. She couldn't have mixed with people I shall be able to mix with now I am rich. It's not.as if I can do anything for her. I've got to think of myself. Going to Saigon would be a stupid, quixotic thing to do.

  The bonfire suddenly burst into flames. Jaffa moved back as he felt the violence of its heat. The sound of the helicopter became louder.

  He was thinking, she was such a poor little liar. I bet the moment they questioned her, she gave me away. It's no good thinking about it. I don't suppose they'll give her more than a year in jail. She'll be all right. It's not as if she is an American girl. These Vietnamese are used to a tough way of life.

  Charlie had started the other bonfire. The helicopter was coming lower. It's whirling blade began to kick up the dust of the dry rice-field.

  Jaffe walked slowly across the field to where Charlie waited.

  They wouldn't hurt her, he told himself. Why should they? She was such a rotten little liar and she was as scared as a rabbit. She would tell them what they wanted to know. No, they wouldn't hurt her. I'm lucky to get away.

  The helicopter settled in the middle of the field. Lee Watkins opened the cabin door. Charlie began to run towards the helicopter.

  Jaffe took out his gun. He started to run too. He reached the helicopter before Charlie.

  "Are you the guy I'm to take to Kratie?" Watkins asked, peering at him.

  "That's right," Jaffe said.

  "Hop in," Watkins said. "I want to get off."

  Charlie came up, panting. Jaffe shoved his gun into Charlie's chest.

  "You're not coming with me," he said. "Get the hell out of here! You can find your own way out of this damn place!"

  Charlie started back, terrified at the sight of the gun.

  Jaffe climbed into the cabin.

  "Isn't he coming?" Watkins asked, shouting to get above the noise of the engine.

  "No, he's not coming," Jaffe said. He kept the gun down by his side so Watkins couldn't see it.

  Watkins leaned across him, waved to Charlie who stood miserably watching, then slammed the door.

  What a stinking sonofabitch you are! the voice in Jaffe's mind said. You're not fit to be loved. You know she didn't betray you. They had her in their hands since yesterday evening. If she had betrayed you, they would have got you by now. Well, I hope you'll like living with yourself from now on. I hope you'll have fun with all your money. I hope you'll be able to get her out of your mind, but I don't think you will.

  "Come on! Come on!" Jaffe shouted savagely. "Let's go!"

  Charlie watched the helicopter rise into the air. He waited until it was out of sight, then he walked slowly and heavily to where he had left Blackie's car.

  THE END

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