2
Blackie Lee arrived back at the club at twenty minutes to one a.m. He parked his car, got out and stood for a moment breathing in the hot used-up air.
There was no movement in the street. Three rickshaws stood nearby along the kerb. The three rickshaw boys were sleeping in their vehicles. The neon lights that plastered the front of the club were out. They went out every night exactly at twelve. Looking up at the dark building, Blackie smiled to himself. In Hong Kong those lights would blaze until the early hours of the morning. There was no crippling curfew in Hong Kong.
He started towards the club, then paused as he saw a shadowy figure rise up out of a dark doorway and come towards him. He recognized the hard Mexican hat that Yo-Yo always wore and he frowned impatiently.
Yo-Yo sidled up to him.”
“Good evening, Mr. Blackie,” he said. “I wanted to speak to you.”
“Some other time,” Blackie said curtly. “It’s late. See me tomorrow,” and he walked across to the entrance of the club and fumbled in his pocket for his keys.
Yo-Yo followed him.
“It won’t wait until tomorrow, Mr. Blackie. I wanted your advice. It’s about the American, Jaffe.”
Blackie restrained a start of alarm with an effort. His agile mind worked swiftly. What a fool he had been! He had for-gotten he had sent Yo-Yo to follow Nhan. This little rat knew where Jaffe was hiding! He must have read about the reward in the newspapers.
“Jaffe?” he said, looking over his shoulder at Yo-Yo, his fat face expressionless. “Who’s Jaffe?”
“The American who was kidnapped, Mr. Blackie,” Yo-Yo said, a derisive sneer in his voice.
Blackie hesitated, then he said, “You’d better come up,” and he waved Yo-Yo to goon ahead.
As Blackie followed him up the stairs, his elation left him. If this little rat has put two and two together, he thought, and made it four, he can ruin the whole of our plans.
There was only one light on in the dance hall. It was over the cash desk where Yu-Ian was checking the cash. The desk was covered with money. She glanced up as the two men came in. Her head jerked up when she saw Yo-Yo.
Blackie didn’t say anything to her. He continued across the floor to his office, followed by Yo-Yo who had paused for a moment to stare at the money on the desk.
In his office, Blackie sat down behind his desk. Yo-Yo stood in front of the desk, chewing on the thin leather strap that hung from his hat.
“Well? What is it?” Blackie said.
“They’re offering 20,000 piastres for information about the American,” Yo-Yo said. “I know he hasn’t been kidnapped and I know where he is. I thought I’d better talk to you first before I claim the reward.”
“What makes you think it’s anything to do with me?” Yo-Yo picked at a food stain on his coat.
“Isn’t it?” he said, not looking at Blackie. “He’s the man I saw in the villa at Thudaumot. The man Nhan visited.”
“How do you know?”
Yo-Yo looked up and his thick lips parted in a sneering grin.
“I know, Mr. Blackie. I thought I’d come to you first. You’ve always been good to me. I didn’t want to get you into any trouble.”
Blackie breathed heavily through his wide nostrils. He felt a cold clutch of fear at his heart, but his face remained expressionless.
“Why should I get into trouble?”
Yo-Yo shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t say anything.
To give himself time to think, Blackie lit a cigarette. As he flicked out the match, he said, “It would be better if you didn’t go to the police. I’m thinking of the girl. I don’t let any of my girls get into trouble if I can help it.”
Yo-Yo’s grin widened.
“I know that, Mr. Blackie.”
“Well, okay. You keep away from the police. Just keep quiet about this. Police informers aren’t popular around here.”
Yo-Yo nodded.
There was a pause, then Blackie went on, “It’s time you settled down to a job of work. Come and see me tomorrow. I’ll find something for you: something good,” and he made a little flicking movement of dismissal.
Yo-Yo didn’t move.
“How about the reward, Mr. Blackie?”
I’ll have to give him the money, Blackie thought, but it won’t stop there. As soon as he has spent it, he’ll be back for more. I’ve got this little rat on my back now.
“The police won’t pay you,” he said. “They’ll listen to you, but they won’t pay you. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“I think they would, Mr. Blackie,” Yo-Yo said and a hard note came into his voice. “I want 20,000 piastres.”
Blackie looked at him for a long moment, then he got to his feet.
“Wait here,” he said, “and keep your hands off my things.”
He went out closing the door after him. He crossed to a door leading to his living-quarters at the back of the club, ignoring Yu-lan who was looking anxiously at him from across the hall. He went to Charlie’s bedroom and entered.
There was a flickering nightlight under a large photograph of Blackie’s and Charlie’s father that stood on a shelf on the wall. The nightlight provided enough light for Blackie to see his brother sleeping in the bunk across the room.
As Blackie shut the door, Charlie opened his eyes and sat up.
“What is it?” Charlie asked.
Quietly Blackie told him of his meeting with Jaffe.
“He has the diamonds,” he said. “He has given me one more.”
Charlie held out his hand and Blackie gave the screw of paper containing the diamond. Charlie examined the stone and nodded.
“This is another of mine,” he said. “He agrees to the price?”
Yes.”
“I fly to Phnom-Penh tomorrow morning.”
“There is a complication,” Blackie said and told Charlie about Yo-Yo.
“These things happen,” Charlie said philosophically. “You must pay him. He’ll come back for more, of course. When we have the diamonds we may have to do something about him, but not until we have the diamonds.”
“That’s what I thought. All right, I’ll pay him.”
“Do you think he’ll go to the police after you have paid him? He might be tempted to try for the reward as well.”
“No, he won’t do that,” Blackie said. “The police know too much about him. I don’t think they would give him anything: he knows that as well as I do.”
Charlie nodded.
Then pay him.”
Chapter Twelve
1
NHAN had passed a bad night. She had had a dream that had terrified her.
As soon as she had got her three brothers off to school and before her uncle had got out of bed, she took a pousse-pousse to the Tomb of Marshal Le-van-Duyet. At the entrance she bought an assortment of vegetables and fruit as gift offerings. She entered the Temple and laid her gifts among the other gifts already on the long table.
She knelt and prayed for some time, and then calmer in mind, she bought two candles, lit them and fixed them to the already overcrowded candle rack.
Then kneeling, she picked up a quiver containing a number of strips of thin wood, each strip bearing a number. Very gently and carefully she began to shake the quiver in both hands until one strip of wood toppled out and fell on the stone floor. She looked at the number and noted it was 16. She went over to a numbered rack on the wall and drew from a pigeon-hole numbered 16 a strip of pink paper.
She took this strip of paper to an old man who was sitting at the entrance to the tomb. He was one of the five fortunetellers attached to the tomb. He read what was printed on the pink paper, then he stared at Nhan for some minutes. He was the best as well as the oldest fortuneteller at the Tomb and Nhan had great faith in him.
He told her that she must be very careful what she did during the next two days. These two days, he said, were the most critical of her life. After the two days, she would have no need of fear, but it would be better for her to return home and pray and keep on praying until the two days had elapsed.