Blackie was sipping from a glass of tea. He looked up. His face became expressionless when he saw Yo-Yo.
“What is it?”
“I have some information to sell,” Yo-Yo said. “It’ll cost you five thousand piastres, but it’s cheap at the price.”
“What information?”
“I’ll have the money first.”
“You can get out,” Blackie said, putting down his glass of tea, “before I throw you out.”
Yo-Yo giggled.
“It’s to do with the police and you, Mr. Blackie. It’s important.”
Blackie felt a sudden chill around his heart. He didn’t hesitate for long. He took out his wallet and counted out five thousand piastres and threw them across the desk at Yo-Yo.
“What is it?”
Yo-Yo picked up the notes.
“Two Security Police detectives are following you,” he said. “They followed you when you left this morning with Mr. Charlie. They were following you when you returned. They are sitting outside now in their car: the black Citroen.”
Blackie sat for some moments staring at Yo-Yo, then with a visible effort, he said, “The next time you come in here knock on the door. Now get out.”
Yo-Yo looked at the money in his dirty hand and then he winked at Blackie.
“Some have good luck, some bad. I’m sorry for you, Mr. Blackie,” and he went out.
As soon as the door had shut, Blackie got quickly to his feet and went to the window. Cautiously, he peered through the closet shutters. He could see the Citroen down in the street. He couldn’t see who was sitting in it, but whoever it was was smoking. He could see a spiral of tobacco smoke drifting out of the open window of the car.
What did it mean? he asked himself. Why were they watching him? Did they suspect he was in touch with Jaffe? Or were they watching him in the hope he would lead them to Nhan? Or was it something that had nothing to do with Jaffe?
He moved away from the window, taking out his handkerchief to wipe his sweating face. Cold panic crawled up his spine. If it hadn’t been for that little rat, Yo-Yo, he would have gone out in another ten minutes to collect the gun and the silencer. If they had caught him with that, he would have gone away for two years.
He went slowly over to his desk and sat down. He had better remain in his office, he told himself. Yu-lan could collect the gun. He thought with envy of Charlie, safe in the Dakota taking him to Phnom-Penh. Should he warn Charlie the police were on the watch? He hesitated, then decided to wait a little while. Maybe this had nothing to do with Jaffe. Maybe someone had talked about the little currency deal he had engineered a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps that was why the police were watching him.
He got up and went to a cupboard and poured himself out a stiff drink of whisky, then he returned to his desk and wrote a hurried note. He took from his wallet several notes which he put in the envelope together with the letter he had written, sealed the envelope and addressed it.
Then he went out into the dance hall where Yu-lan was arranging flowers.
“Take this letter to Fat Wo,” Blackie said to her. “Take shopping basket with you. Buy some fruit and vegetables. Fat Wo will give you a parcel. Put the parcel under the fruit and vegetables and then come back here.”
“What is in the parcel?” Yu-lan asked, her eyes anxious.
“It is no affair of yours,” Blackie said. “Go at once. The matter is very urgent.”
Yu-lan hesitated, then seeing he was in no mood to tolerate disobedience, she went away to fetch the shopping basket.
Blackie returned to his office. He finished the whisky and felt less nervous. He stood at the window watching Yu-lan as she walked briskly down the street to Fat Wo’s restaurant. No one followed her. The man in the Citroen continued to smoke. Blackie waited by the window. Twenty minutes later, he saw Yu-lan returning, the shopping basket loaded with vegetables. He met her at the door of the club as she came in.
“Did you get it?” he asked.
She set down the basket, lifted out some of the vegetables and hauled out a parcel securely wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
“What is happening?” she asked. “I am worried. You are planning something. May I not know?”
He took the parcel.
“No,” he said. “This is a matter for men.”
He went into his office, shut and bolted the door and then opened the parcel. The.38 automatic with its long silencer pleased him. He checked the magazine, then going to his safe, he locked the gun away.
Two more days, he thought, before we get the diamonds. It seemed an eternity to have to wait. He went to the window again and peered through the shutters. The Citroen was still there.
While he stood watching the car and wondering what this police attention could mean, Inspector Ngoc-Linh was standing before Colonel On-dinh-Khuc’s desk, making a report about the dead policeman found in a ditch on the Thudaumot road.
The time was half past three. The policeman’s body had only just been found. He had been missing since he had left the police post at ten-thirty the previous evening. He had been detailed to watch Blackie Lee’s car. The Inspector couldn’t make up his mind whether bandits had killed the policeman or if Jaffe had killed him.
The Colonel wasn’t interested in the dead policeman.
During the morning, he had had a disturbing conversation with Lam-Than. Lam-Than had warned him his sands were now rapidly running out.
One of Lam-Than’s spies at the Presidency had told Lam-Than that the group opposing the Colonel had finally convinced the President to take action against him. By the end of the week he would no longer be Head of Security Police. He would have been dismissed instantly only the man who was to succeed him was in Paris, and until he returned in three days, no action against the Colonel could be taken.
Three days! the Colonel was thinking as he half-listened to the Inspector’s report. If this rumour were true he had only three more days in which to lay his hands on the diamonds and get out of the country.
“Where is this taxi-dancer?” he said. “How much longer do I have to wait?”
“She will return to her home at six,” the Inspector said. “At ten minutes past six, sir, she will be in this room.”
The Colonel stared at him, his little eyes glittering.
“I will hold you to that statement,” he said. “If she is not here by ten minutes past six, you will regret having been born.”
There was a pause, then the Inspector said, “The man, Blackie Lee, took his brother to the airport this morning. The brother flew to Phom-Penh. He has a return ticket and arrives back here tomorrow morning. These two men know something about Jaffe. I respectfully suggest they should now be arrested and questioned.
The Colonel shook his head.
“Not yet,” he said. “Give me the girl. She will tell me what I want to know. Just give me the girl.”
Chapter Thirteen
1
Nhan woke from a sound and dreamless sleep. She lay without moving, looking up at the wooden ceiling as she listened to the faint sounds of passing people and an occasional car in the road outside the villa.
The little room was very hot. She felt drowsy and relaxed. She turned her head to look at Steve sleeping beside her. Then moving gently so as not to wake him, she half sat up to look at his wrist-watch lying on the table beside her. The time was four o’clock. She lay back with a contented sigh.
The bus to Saigon left at fifteen minutes past five. It would get her to the Central Market at five-to-six. She would be home by six in time to prepare supper for her brothers.
For the moment her fears had drained out of her. Jaffe’s skilful love-making had satisfied her body and relaxed her mind.
She stretched her long naked legs with another sigh of content and she put her hands over her small breasts, pressing her elbows into her tiny waist.