assistance,” and turning he left the room.
When Wade heard the front door close, he drew in a long breath of relief. He turned to the bedroom to find Ann Fai Wah standing in the doorway, glaring at him.
“You bring the police to my home!” she said viciously. “Never will you come here again! Get out!”
“Who would want to come here again?” Wade snarled.”
“Who are you kidding, you yellow fake?”
She began to scream abuse at him, half in Chinese, half in French, but Wade was too tired and angry to care. He pushed past her into the bedroom, collected his coat, and with her still screaming at him, he stamped out of the apartment.
When he reached the street, he realized he had to walk home. When he finally reached home, he discovered Ann Fai Wah had stolen all his money from his wallet.
It certainly had been one hell of a night.
2
A police car pulled up outside Jaffe’s villa and Inspector Ngoc-Linh got out. He signed to the uniformed driver to remain where he was and then walked up the drive to the front door.
He didn’t expect to find Jaffe there. He had already formed an opinion as to what had happened to the driver of the wrecked Chrysler, but he had to make sure.
The outrage at the police post had been discovered fifteen minutes after Jaffe and Nhan had ridden away.
Hearing the sound of the distant explosions, two policemen on road patrol had ridden fast to the post. Fortunately, they found the telephone was still working, and in less than twenty minutes, a number of Security police, including Inspector Ngoc-Linh, had arrived on the scene.
Apart from the wrecked Chrysler, it seemed to be a typical Viet Minh demonstration although it was unusual for the bandits to leave any of their own dead behind in an attack of this kind.
The presence of the Chrysler baffled the Inspector, but now that he knew Wade had lent the car to Jaffe, he was satisfied that Jaffe was either dead or had been kidnapped.
He rang on the front door-bell and it didn’t surprise him that there was no answer. He was turning away when he saw Dong Ham come around the side of the villa from the cookhouse.
He listened to the old man’s anxious story with attention and interest.
This story intrigued the Inspector who could make neither head nor tail of it.
“And Mr. Jaffe?” he asked. “Did he go out?”
“He went out at six, taking his car.” Dong Ham said, his wrinkled face screwed up with alarm.”
The Inspector turned over in his mind what he had heard, but he still couldn’t understand what it was all about.
“You have the key to the villa?” he asked finally.
Dong Ham handed him a key.
“You haven’t been in there?”
“No. I am the cook. I have no business inside the villa.”
The Inspector balanced the key on the palm of his hand while he considered what to do. Entering property rented by an American could cause a diplomatic incident, but in view of what he had learned, he decided he was justified in seeing if the house-boy was in the villa or not.
He told Dong Ham to remain where he was, then walked around to the back door, unlocked it and entered the kitchen. He saw the step-ladder leaning against the wall. He then entered the sitting-room and looked around. Everything there seemed in order except a broken drinking-glass and a damp patch that could be whisky on the floor.
He went into the hall, opened the front door and beckoned to Dong Ham who came up the steps reluctantly.
“Have you ever been in here before?” the Inspector asked.
Dong Ham said he had been in twice to help Haum move some furniture.
“Go in there and tell me if you see anything unusual in the room.”
Dong Ham entered the sitting-mom and looked around.
Immediately he pointed to the picture on the wall. That, he said, he hadn’t seen before.
The Inspector examined the picture which didn’t appeal to him. This would explain why Haum had fetched the ladder and the hammer.
Having solved that little problem, the Inspector dismissed it from his mind and proceeded to look over the villa. He opened cupboards in the kitchen and in the sitting-room, then finding nothing to interest him, he went upstairs, leaving Dong Ham in the hall.
A quick glance into the bathroom showed him everything was in order and he moved down the passage to Jaffe’s bedroom. He found the door locked. It was unusual, he thought, frowning at the door, to lock a bedroom door and to remove the key. He tapped on the door and listened, but heard nothing. Then he stepped silently to the banister rail and looked down into the hall to make sure Dong Ham was still there, seeing he was, he took a pick- lock from his pocket and unlocked the bedroom door.
He entered the bedroom. The contrast of the stifling passage and the cold bedroom made him shiver slightly. He looked at the big clothes closet and his intent black eyes flickered. He tried the door and found it locked. Using the pick-lock, he opened the door.
Dong Ham waiting in the hall, nervously picking at the hard lump of skin on his hand, could hear the Inspector moving about upstairs. The old man watched anxiously. He was quite certain that something very bad had happened to Haum whom he liked.
It was a good half hour before Inspector Ngoc-Linh came down the stairs. Dong Ham watched him come; he could read nothing from the brown, expressionless face.
“I will be returning,” the Inspector said. “In the meantime no one is to enter the villa, and that includes you. Is that understood?”
Dong Ham nodded. He was too frightened to ask the question that was tormenting him.
The Inspector waved him out of the villa, then following him, he locked the back door. He called to the uniformed driver who got out of the car and hurried to his side.
“You will remain here and see no one enters the villa,” the Inspector said. “You will let no one see you, unless of course, you have to prevent them entering. I may be two or three hours, but I will return.”
Leaving the driver staring suspiciously at Dong Ham who blinked at him uneasily, the Inspector walked to the car and drove rapidly away.
3
Colonel On-dinh-Khuc, Chief of Security Police, sat in a high-back, heavily carved wooden chair and breathed gently through his wide spread nostrils.
He was a grossly built man with a round hairless head, narrow cruel eyes, thick lips and big flat pointed ears. Half Chinese, half Vietnamese, he had the worst features of both races, both in his nature and in his appearance.
For six years he had controlled Security Police with an iron hand, but there were certain influential politicians who were determined to get rid of him, and this he knew.
They argued that he had long since served his purpose. He had been useful before the regime had been finally established, but his methods were so grossly uncivilized and his mentality so brutal, he could now very easily bring the regime into international disrepute. The sooner he went and a more acceptable man found the better.
