Lieutenant?”
Hambley stared at him.
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“If I remember rightly, you came here two months ago. Two months is a very short time to get to understand the mentality and the methods of our enemy.”
Hambley shifted. He had been aware ever since he had arrived in Saigon that he wasn’t properly equipped for the job he had to do. It irritated him that he was unable to speak the language and had to work through interpreters all the time. He was continually finding the Vietnamese mentality utterly baffling.
“I don’t get any of this,” he said aggressively. “What are you driving at?”
“On the other hand,” the Inspector went on, ignoring the interruption, “we have had years of experience with these bandits. We know the sole purpose of their activities against us is to create political trouble. Nothing could please them more than to upset the good relations between your country and mine or create an unsavoury incident that would have repercussions in the world press.
Hambley became aware it was very hot in the room and that he was sweating. He took out his handkerchief and mopped his puzzled face.
“At the meeting last night,” the Inspector went on, “you raised several interesting points that you said were both mysterious and sinister. You were right in saying they were mysterious, but wrong to say they were sinister.”
“Don’t you think it’s sinister that the girl was killed as she left your headquarters and the cook has disappeared?”
“The cook hasn’t disappeared,” the Inspector said gravely. “He was found a few hours ago in the river.”
Hambley started. “He’s dead?”
“Oh yes, he’s dead.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me he committed suicide?” Hambley said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Well, this makes it even more sinister. The houseboy, his girl and now the cook - all dead. Each of them would have been able to have given me a lead. It’s damn sinister!”
The Inspector smiled patiently.
“If I were in your place, Lieutenant, I would think the same thing, but with the information I have, it is not sinister at all. It would appear to be the most natural sequence of events imaginable.”
Hambley drew in a deep breath. He felt his temper rising, but he controlled himself with an effort.
“Look, suppose we cut the cackle and get down to facts? If you know so much, let’s hear what it is!”
“The key to this apparent mystery,” the Inspector said smoothly, “is that Haum, his girl and Dong Ham were agents of Viet Minh. Once you know that, the situation is neither mysterious nor sinister.”
Hambley felt suddenly deflated and unsure of himself. To give himself time to think, he took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.
“Why didn’t you say so at the meeting?” he demanded.
“My dear Lieutenant, if I had known then I would naturally have said so, but it was only this morning that I learned of this.”
“How did you learn it?”
“There are many Viet Minh agents in Saigon. Every now and then some of them realize how much better life is here than in Hanoi. They become converts. It is through these converts we get some of our information. This particular informant was unwilling to give Haum, the girl and Dong Ham away while they were alive, but when he learned they were dead, he came to me and told me all had been active agents of the Viet Minh.”
Hambley groaned to himself. He was sure he was getting tangled up in a web of lies, but all the same, he would now have to step warily. This fantastic story just could be true.
“But what has all this to do with Jaffe’s disappearance?” he asked. “You’re not going to tell me Jaffe was a Viet Minh agent too, are you? Because frankly, if you do, I won’t believe it.”
The Inspector shook his head.
“Oh no, Lieutenant, nothing as childish as that. Tell me, what do you know about Mr. Jaffe? He is a countryman of yours. He has lived in Saigon for three years. What sort of man would you say he is or perhaps it would be more correct to say what sort of man would you say he was?”
Hambley had never met Jaffe to talk to. He had seen him a few times over a period of two months in various bars and nightclubs, but he had never taken enough interest in him to inquire about him. He realized with angry irritation that he knew absolutely nothing about,Jaffe.
Watching him, the Inspector was pleased the way the conversation was going. This over-smart young man was being steadily pushed on the defensive. He wasn’t nearly so sure of himself as he had been.
“Well, I know he was a pretty successful business man,” Hambley hedged. “He hasn’t been in trouble as far as I know, He…”
“I mean what sort of private life did he lead, Lieutenant?” the Inspector interrupted. “It is only by a man’s private life that he should be judged.”
Hambley wiped his face again.
“I know nothing of his private life,” he admitted sullenly.
The Inspector was now ready to produce one of several aces his agile mind had created during this conversation.
“You mentioned that Mr. Jaffe had drawn all his money out of the bank,” he said. “This withdrawal was done hurriedly and on a Sunday evening and through two hotels since the bank was shut. To you, Mr. Jaffe’s action suggested a man in flight. Would you not say, however, that there could be another explanation for his action?”
Hambley looked startled. He felt the blood rise to his face.
“You mean blackmail?”
“Exactly. I myself would say this is an action of a man under pressure and in need of a large sum of money and when a situation like that arises I always think of blackmail.”
Hambley found himself excusing himself.
“I had no reason to think Jaffe was a man who could be blackmailed,” he said slowly. “Have you any good reason to think so?”
The Inspector appeared to hesitate.
“Yes, unfortunately, Mr. Jaffe was without any doubt a pervert and a degenerate.”
Hambley stared at him. “What makes you say that?”
“There is a very simple explanation why he wanted to borrow Mr. Wade’s car and I assure you it had nothing to do with the car being equipped with C.D. plates. For some time now, Mr. Jaffe has been seen by my men trying to pick up girls in his car. For several weeks, he was unsuccessful. It seems to me to be an acceptable theory that, frustrated by his lack of success he might easily have blamed his failure on the smallness of his Dauphine rather than on the decency of the girls he tried to molest. I think Mr. Jaffe borrowed Mr. Wade’s big and rather ostentatious car in the hope of changing his luck. After all he did mention to Mr Wade he wished to use the car for an immoral purpose.”
Hambley stubbed out his cigarette.
“If he was annoying women in the streets,” he said curtly, “why didn’t your men pick him up?”
The Inspector lifted his shoulders.
“We naturally avoid arresting Americans where we can. The girls paid no attention to him. They came to no harm, and there was no official complaint made, so our men sensibly took no action although a report was sent to me.”
“This still doesn’t explain where Haum comes into it or why Jaffe was being blackmailed or why he took a gun with him or why he packed a bag. Are you suggesting he got some girl into trouble and decided to make a bolt for it?”
“Nothing of the kind, Lieutenant. This is a little more complicated than that. You may be surprised to learn that Haum was a homosexual.”
Hambley stiffened. For Pete’s sake! he thought. What’s coming next?
“I think it had been decided some time ago that Mr. Jaffe should be kidnapped and held to ransom. I think Haum and Dong Ham were planted in Mr. Jaffe’s villa for the express purpose of carrying out this kidnapping at the
