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 think 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.