Instead of returning home, Nhan caught the nine o’clock bus to Thudaumot. She felt an urgent need to be with Steve to feel his arms around her. He could, she felt, give her more comfort and more hope than prayer.
While the bus was leaving the Central Market for Thudaumot, Lieutenant Hambley was arriving at his office. He found on his desk a number of files and a request for a comprehensive report on the pilfering of stores belonging to the Embassy. The report and the files would keep him fully occupied for at least two days, and as he got down to work, he remembered that he was to have gone to the Tomb of Marshal Le-van-Duyet to talk to Nhan Lee Quon’s uncle.
Well, I can’t do everything, he told himself. I’ll give her name to Ngoc-Linh and he can handle it.
It wasn’t until eleven o’clock when his secretary brought him a cup of coffee that he paused in his work to telephone the Inspector.
“Your theory that Jaffe was a degenerate is so much baloney,” Hambley said when the Inspector came on the line. “I have talked to his friends and there’s no evidence at all that he was queer or that he chased girls. He had a regular girl. You’d better talk to her. She’ll tell you there was nothing wrong with the guy.”
The Inspector, listening, half closed his eyes with exasperation.
“If I could find the girl, Lieutenant,” he said, controlling his irritation, “I would most certainly talk to her, but I don’t know who she is and I can’t find out who she is.”
Hambley grinned to himself.
“You surprise me, Inspector. I had no trouble finding out who she is. I got her name from that Chinese tart you found Wade with. As easy as that.”
The Inspector leaned forward, gripping the telephone. “Who is she?”
“She’s a taxi-dancer at the Paradise Club,” Hambley said. “Her name’s Nhan Lee Quon. I don’t know where she lives, but I do know her uncle is a fortune-teller at Marshal Levan-Duyet’s tomb. He’ll tell you where to find her.”
The Inspector drew in a long breath.
“Thank you, Lieutenant, I will act on your suggestion,” and he hung up.
For a long moment he sat still, staring in front of him, then he picked up the telephone and called Colonel Ondinh-Khuc. He told him he now knew who Jaffe’s girl was.
“I will question her myself,” the Colonel said, a grating note in his voice. “Arrest her quietly. Bring her to me immediately.”
It didn’t take the Inspector long to find Nhan’s address. A register of all the taxi-dancers was kept at headquarters. The Inspector took two plain-clothes men with him and drove in his car to Nhan’s home. Leaving the car at the corner of the street, he walked with one of his men to the apartment block.
Nhan’s mother came to the door.
Her daughter was out, she told the Inspector. She didn’t know where she had gone. She would be back at mid-day or failing this, then she was certain to be back at six.
The Inspector left his man at the apartment. He told him to wait for Nhan to arrive and that her mother was not to leave the apartment on any pretext until her daughter did arrive.
When the Inspector had gone, his man sat on the bench near the door and lit a cigarette. Nhan’s mother squatted on the floor looking at the man in terror. After a while the man got bored with smoking. He locked the door and then began to examine the contents of the apartment, opening and shutting cupboards, opening drawers and turning over their contents while Nhan’s mother continued to watch him.
Jaffe was surprised and pleased when his room door opened and Nhan came in. He thought she looked tired and he could tell by her kiss that she was nervous about something. He led her to the bed and sat on it, pulling her down beside him, his arm round her. He told her of his meeting with Blackie. He didn’t mention the policeman.
“We leave tomorrow night,” he said. The following morning we will be in Hong Kong.”
Nhan hesitated before saying, “Could we wait for two days, Steve? It would be better. I consulted the Oracle this morning and the next two days are very bad for me. Please wait. In two days time it will be all right.” She looked anxiously at him expecting him to be angry and impatient with her, but instead he grinned at her.
“Now look, Nhan, if you’re going to become an American citizen you’ve got to stop being superstitious, and that’s all this nonsense is: superstition Oracles are all very well for a little Vietnamese taxi-dancer, but not for an American citizen.
“I understand,” Nhan said helplessly. She wanted so much to gain Steve’s approval and to make the right impression. She was suddenly sure that she would never see Hong Kong. Hadn’t the fortune-teller told her the next two days were the most critical days of her life? “It isn’t possible to wait?”
“No. Everything is arranged,” Jaffe said. “Now don’t worry about it. It’s going to be all right.” He lay back across the bed, pulling her with him and he began to kiss her.
Nhan closed her eyes and tried to relax under his caresses, but her mind was darting with fear the way a trapped mouse will dart to escape the paw of a cat.
“Look, why not stay here with me?” Jaffe said. “Why go back to Saigon? We’ll leave here tomorrow night. Will you stay?”
He lifted himself up on his arm and leaned over her, tracing his finger gently down the side of her nose, touching her lips and moving up along her jawbone as he looked at her.
“I can’t stay,” she said, shaking her head. “I must prepare my mother for my going away. There are many things yet for me to do. I must pack. I couldn’t go without saying goodbye to my brothers.”
Families! Jaffe thought irritably. They were a ball and chain on the leg of a man who is trying to run. They were a blanket that stifled impulse.
He was glad he had no family: no mother to prepare for his going away: no brothers to say good-bye to.
His irritation showed on his face as he shrugged his shoulder.
“Well, all right. It’s your family. Blackie will come to your apartment at ten tomorrow night. He will bring you to me. It’s all arranged.”
“I will be ready,” Nhan said.
“We will meet at the ruined temple at eleven then he is driving us somewhere where the helicopter can land. Once we get to Kratie, we’ll be safe.”
Because of the growing presentiment of danger that persisted in haunting her mind, she took Jaffe’s face gently in her hands, smiling at him and she said, “Could we make a little love together, Steve? Now… It will be for the last time.” She paused, then went on, “before we reach Hong Kong.”
He looked down at her, puzzled.
“You’re still scared, aren’t you?” he said as he began to undo her tunic. “You mustn’t be scared. It’s going to work out all right. I know it is. You must trust me.”
She gave herself to him as she had never given herself to him before. It was as if she were trying desperately to express the love she felt for him so that it would make an indelible mark on his mind; something he would always remember her by in the years ahead when he would be living without her.
2
While Nhan was in the bus going to Thudaumot and Lieutenant Hambley was talking to Inspector Ngoc-Linh on the telephone, Blackie was driving his brother to the Saigon airport.
Charlie had been fortunate to get a scat on the Dakota going to Phnom-Penh at ten o’clock. He had already sent a telegram to Lee Watkins, the pilot on the Opium run, asking him to meet him at Phnom-Penh airport.
As the big American car drove along the main road, both brothers were silent, their minds active.
Blackie said suddenly, “Watkins should know a safe place to make his landing. It must he close to Thudaumot. I don’t want a long drive with Jaffe: it’s too risky.”