“Wake up!” Steve had said sharply, shaking her arm. “It’s simple enough, isn’t it?”
Because she was afraid to excite his contempt, she had nodded dumbly.
“And you mustn’t tell anyone about the diamonds,” he went on, lowering his voice. “No one. You understand that, don’t you?”
Again she nodded.
He made a movement of exasperation, then stood up and began to pace up and down the small room.
“I’ll want some cigarettes,” he said. “Get me two hundred Luckies. I expect you’ll find a bus that comes out here this afternoon, and don’t forget to bring a newspaper with you.”
Again she nodded.
“I’ll probably have decided by the time you come again what I’m to do,” he went on. “Be careful of Blackie Lee. He’s certain to ask questions. I’ve got to decide if I can trust him or not. If he questions you, be careful you don’t let on where I am.” He had looked around the small, skimpily-furnished room. The quicker I’m out of this dump the better, but I mustn’t take risks… You rest for a while. You have nearly an hour before the bus goes. I’m going to get rid of those two bicycles.”
He had started for the door. In a panic, Nhan had flung her arms around him.
“Don’t leave me,” she had begged. “I’m frightened! Isn’t there some other way? Wouldn’t it be better to go to the police? If you gave them the…”
“Stop it!” he had said roughly, pushing her away. “I told you: not a word about the diamonds! I’m keeping them! Do what I’m telling you and it’ll work out all right!”
He had left her, her head in her hands, hopeless in her misery.
Ten minutes before the bus was due to leave, just when it was beginning to get light, he had returned. He had told her he had dumped the two bicycles in the river.
As the bus arrived at the Saigon Central Market, she thought of her parting with him. He had suddenly become tender, but his tenderness hadn’t reduced her terror. With him she was sure she could face anything, but to have to cope with this deception alone filled her with hopeless despair.
As she hurried along the narrow streets towards her apartment, wondering how she could persuade her mother and her uncle to believe the lies she had to tell, Colonel On-dinh-Khuc was completing his instructions to Inspector Ngoc-Linh.
He was saying that he had reason to believe that the American, Steve Jaffe, hadn’t been kidnapped by the Viet Minh. For reasons as yet unknown, Jaffe had murdered his houseboy. That was an established fact. It would be very convenient for Jaffe if it were believed he had been kidnapped. There was a possibility that Jaffe had gone into hiding and would attempt to leave the country, he must be prevented from doing so.
The Inspector was to make inquiries. He was to satisfy the Colonel that either Jaffe had been kidnapped or was hiding. If he was in hiding, the Inspector was to discover his hiding place. When the hiding place was discovered, he was to make no move to arrest the American. He was to tell the Colonel where the American was hiding and the Colonel would then decide what action to take.
Dong-Ham and My-Lang-To were to be taken to Security Police Headquarters. They were to talk to no one, but put in separate cells and to remain under lock and key until the Colonel interrogated them personally. Any information he obtained from them would be passed on to the Inspector to assist him in his search for the American.
The Colonel would report to the President that the American had been kidnapped, and no doubt, the President would have this information conveyed to the American Ambassador. The Inspector should understand it would be against the interests of the State for the American Ambassador to be told that Jaffe had murdered his houseboy. This unfortunate incident must remain a secret, and the Colonel would hold the Inspector responsible for keeping it a secret.
There was a pause, then the Colonel went on, “The body of the houseboy must be discovered near the police post. It will be presumed that he was with the American when they were attacked by the bandits. While the American was kidnapped, the boy was killed. Is that understood?”
Inspector Ngoc-Linh’s small black eyes flickered, but he said stolidly, “It is understood, sir.”
He watched Colonel Khuc and Lam-Than leave the villa, get into the police car and drive away. As soon as they had gone, he relaxed and moved around the room, his brownface puzzled. Then he looked at the picture on the wall. He pulled up a chair, stepped up on it and raised the picture. He stared at the hole in the wall, then he settled the picture back in its place, replaced the chair and moved thoughtfully across the room and into the kitchen.
On the other side of the town in a small sparsely-furnished room, Nhan squatted in front of her mother and her uncle and explained for the second time what they were to say if the police questioned them about her whereabouts the previous night.
Nhan’s mother was a tiny woman of forty-six. She had on a shabby wrap and her hair hung loose, framing her dried-up wrinkled face. She looked a lot older than her years. Her husband had been a waiter at the Majestic Hotel. He had been killed in a road accident some years ago and she had had a struggle to keep the home together which she had done by selling flowers in the market. It had been a fortunate thing when Blackie Lee had come to her and suggested that Nhan should work at his club. Since Nhan had been at the club, her mother had given up flower selling. She had even invited her brother to live with them.
Her brother was considerably older than her. He was a fat, stupid man who told fortunes outside the Tomb of Marshal Le-van-Duyet. He wasn’t a good fortune teller and consequently he made very little money. He was glad to have free board and lodging.
“If the police come here,” Nhan said, speaking slowly, “you must say that I came home at eleven and went to bed. It is most important that you should say this.”
Her uncle squinted at her, frowning.
“How can I say such a thing when you were out all night?” he finally asked. “I was here all the evening. Your bed hasn’t been slept in.”
“That is true,” Nhan’s mother said. “Lies lead to trouble. We don’t want trouble in this house.”
“If you don’t tell this lie,” Nhan said desperately, “there will be bad trouble in this house.”
Her uncle put his hand under his coat and scratched his ribs.
“If the police question me,” he said obstinately, “I shall say you were out all night. In this way I shall not become involved in your trouble. Your mother must also tell the truth. I have always thought that American would get you into trouble. I wish to have nothing to do with the matter.”
“If you don’t do what I am asking you to do,” Nhan said hopelessly, “I shall lose my job and go to prison. There will be no money in the house at the end of the week and my mother will have to sell flowers again.”
Her uncle blinked. This he hadn’t thought of. He might even have to leave this comfortable home.
“No matter how wicked your daughter is, it would not be right for her to lose her job,” he said after some thought, addressing Nhan’s mother. “Besides, you have your sons to consider. If there is no money, who will feed them? Perhaps, after all, it would be better to tell this lie.”
Her mother had no wish to sell flowers again. With a show of reluctance, she agreed that perhaps her brother was right.
Watching them, Nhan saw with relief she had used the right tactics.
“Then if the police ask you you will tell them I returned at eleven and remained in bed all night?” she asked.
“If it will save this house the disgrace of you going to prison,” her uncle returned, “then we are compelled to tell this lie.” He turned to his sister. “Bring me the bamboo stick. This girl has a wicked devil in her. It is my duty to you and to your sons to drive this devil out of her.”
Her mother got up and went to the cupboard where the bamboo stick was kept. Her brother used the stick often on her three sons. She felt it was right for him now to use on her daughter.