“I’m sorry. I don’t like taking diamonds. I had trouble in selling the last two you gave me.”
“What did they fetch?” Jaffe demanded.
“Under a thousand dollars,” Blackie lied. “If this stone you’re now offering me is the same as the other two, the sum realized won’t be enough.”
Jaffe had brought two of the diamonds with him, each screwed up in a separate scrap of paper. He took out one of the screws of paper and gave it to Blackie.
Blackie leaned forward and put on the dash-light. He examined the stone. It seemed to him very similar to the other two stones he had sold. He was breathing a little faster now. Charlie had been right. The American had found all the diamonds.
“This will only fetch five hundred dollars,” Blackie said. “It is not nearly enough.”
A big hand reached out and caught hold of his shoulder. Fingers that felt like steel pinchers dug into his fat flesh. He was jerked around. He stared at Jaffe, his heart giving a little kick of fright. The expression on the American’s face alarmed him.
“That’s all I’ve got,” Jaffe said, speaking slowly and distinctly. “You haven’t any choice now, my friend. If they catch me, I’ll tell them about you. They’ll trace those two diamonds back to you. You know what they’ll do to you; I don’t have to tell you. You’re going to fix this for me or you’ll go down with me.”
“You’re hurting me, Mr. Jaffe,” Blackie said unsteadily. He could understand now how easily Jaffe had killed the house-boy. The strength in these steel fingers horrified him.
Jaffe let him go.
“You’ve got three diamonds out of me. When I get to Hong Kong, you’ll get the rest of the money, but no more until I get there.”
Blackie’s mind worked swiftly. With the three diamonds, he now had more than four thousand dollars in hand. It would be enough to pay the pilot and take care of Charlie’s air passage. He saw that it would be dangerous to push Jaffe further. He pretended to hesitate, then he smiled, lifting his fat shoulders.
“Because I trust you, Mr. Jaffe, it’s a deal,” he said. “I will have to pay something out of my own pocket to make up the difference, but for you, I’ll do it.”
“You’d better do it,” Jaffe said grimly. “Don’t forget - if I go down, you go down with me.”
“There’ll be no question of that.”
“That’s up to you.” There was a pause, then Jaffe went on. “What’s the set-up?”
“I’ll return now and fix it,” Blackie said. He gently massaged his aching shoulder. “Be ready to leave the day after tomorrow. Either my brothel or I will come here at eleven and pick you up in my car. You will be taken to a place to be decided upon where the helicopter can safely land. Not here: it is too close to a police post. Is that understood?”
Jaffe nodded.
“You will bring Nhan?”
“I will bring her.”
“Okay: Thursday night here at eleven and with Nhan.”
Blackie watched the big American get out of the car, then he started the engine.
“I’m relying on you,” Jaffe said, bending to look in through the window at Blackie. “Remember what I said: we go down together.”
Blackie had a feeling of uneasiness. He suddenly wished he wasn’t mixed up in this thing. It could go wrong. He remembered his brother’s warning about a shooting squad. He felt the damp sweat of fear break out on his face.
“It will be all right,” he said. “You can rely on me.”
He backed the car through the gateway of the temple, turned it and started down the narrow road to the main road.
The policeman whose name was Din-Buong-Khun had arrived breathlessly a few minutes before, and was now lying in the long grass, his bicycle hidden close by behind a clump of young bamboo. He watched Blackie’s car turn to the right as it reached the main road and drive fast towards Saigon. Khun knew that three miles further down the road there would be another policeman waiting to pick up Blackie and follow him back to the police post. He looked towards the temple, wondering what Blackie had been doing up there in the old ruins. He wondered if he should go up there, but he had no flashlight and he knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything inside the temple. This was something he would do in the morning.
As he was about to rise to his feet, his sharp ears picked up the sound of movement. He flattened down in the grass, looking towards the temple.
Unaware that he was being watched, Jaffe walked out through the temple gateway and paused, trying to remember where he had left his bicycle. It was a dark night: a few pale stars hung in the sky, but the moon was hidden by a heavy mass of cloud.
Two more days, Jaffe was thinking, then Hong Kong! He felt confident, and sure now that he had thrown a big enough scare into Blackie to bring him and keep him to heel. He worried about the diamonds he had given Blackie. Before he paid Blackie another dollar he would get the remaining stones valued. Blackie wasn’t going to swindle him if he could help it.
Without thinking, he took out his pack of cigarettes and lit a cigarette.
Khun watching, saw the tiny flame of the match. He could see Jaffe’s massive frame outlined against the sky, and his thick lips pulled off his teeth in a grimace of excitement.
His hand slid to his revolver holster, flicked up the flap and his fingers closed on the gun butt.
It was the American: Jaffe, he told himself. There was no mistaking the man’s size. The sergeant at the police post had given him his orders.
“This man is armed and dangerous. Your instructions are to shoot to kill.”
The gun slid easily out of the holster. Khun lifted it and sighted along the barrel. It was a difficult shot: sixty yards at least and only a black shape to aim at. Not for the first time in his police career did Khun feel a sudden doubt if he could hit his target. He had always been an indifferent marksman, and this would be good shooting with a.38 even for a crack shot.
He began to crawl forward, sliding over the thick rough grass like a snake, his head just sufficiently raised to keep his eyes on Jaffe.
Jaffe at this moment was thinking of Nhan. By the end of the week, they would be in Hong Kong together, he told himself. They would have one of the best suites at the Peninsula Hotel. Their first meal would be at the Parisian Grill. King Prawns, he thought, smiling to himself: they had nothing like them in Saigon.
He drew in a lungful of smoke. Now where had he left his damn bicycle? He set off across the rough grass just as Khun, now within thirty yards, had once again lifted his gun.
This target was even more difficult. A moving man, his instructor had warned him, is the hardest thing in the world to hit with a revolver shot. If you have to shoot, then aim slightly ahead, but it is better to wait until your target stops moving. Khun began to slide over the grass again as Jaffe lengthened the distance between them.
Jaffe found his bicycle half hidden in the grass and he picked it up. As he straightened, Khun, seeing the bicycle and realizing in a moment or so, he would have missed his chance, sighted hurriedly along the short barrel of the gun and fired.
Jaffe was just throwing his leg over the saddle of his bicycle when Khun fired at him. For Khun, it was a remarkably good shot, considering he was flustered and had scarcely taken aim.
Jaffe heard something zip past his face, so close he felt a burning sensation on his skin. This was immediately followed by a gun-flash which seemed to come from a point only a few yards away. The bang of the gun was violently loud in the silence of the night.
Instinctively, Jaffe jerked back, lost his balance and sprawled on the grass, the bicycle entangling his legs.
Khun felt a great surge of excited triumph run through him. He had fired and he had seen Jaffe fall. He had lost sight of Jaffe in the long grass, but he was certain he had hit him. Whether he had killed him or not remained to be seen, but at least, he was sure he had hit him.
Jaffe’s first reaction was to throw off the bicycle and get to his feet, but he restrained himself. Whoever had shot him was some thirty yards away from him and lying in the grass. If he moved he would be inviting a second shot and this time, the man with the gun might not miss. Very slowly and cautiously, he moved his hand to his hip-
