Part 11 (1/2)

He drew in a lungful of smoke. Now where had he left his d.a.m.n bicycle? He set off across the rough gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s again as Jaffe lengthened the distance between them.

Jaffe found his bicycle half hidden in the gra.s.s 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 fl.u.s.tered 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 gunflash 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 gra.s.s, 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 gra.s.s, 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.

Jaffeas 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 gra.s.s. 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 pocket and pulled out his gun, sliding back the safety catch, aware that his heart was hammering and he had difficulty in breathing.

Khun remained where he was, his gun pointing in the direction of his last sight of Jaffe. A thought had dropped into his mind that had given him pause and badly shaken his confidence. Suppose, by ill chance, he thought, cold sweat starting out on his face, this big man he had fired at wasnat the American, Jaffe? He had jumped to the conclusion the big shadowy outline of the man he had seen against the skyline could have been no one else but the wanted American, but suppose he wasnat? Suppose he was some other American?

Jaffe lifted his head slowly and sighted along the rough ground. He couldnat see anything except big gra.s.s and a few shrubs. He listened intently, wondering who could have fired at him.

Khun had decided to investigate. He couldnat be certain that the man he had shot was dead. He might only be slightly wounded. If it was Jaffe, Khun knew he was armed. He didnat intend to rise up and present a target of himself.

Jaffe suddenly saw him. The white uniform showed up against the blackness of the gra.s.s. The man was creeping forward like a snake, and he wasnat more than fifteen yards from Jaffe.

Khun also spotted Jaffe. His khaki s.h.i.+rt was also visible against the dark gra.s.s. Khun stopped moving and stared at the dim outline of the fallen man, his gun thrust forward, sweat trickling down his face while he watched for the slightest movement.

Jaffe could just make out the gun in Khunas hand. He guessed rather than saw it was pointing at him.

He doesnat know if I am alive or not, Jaffe thought, trying to control the panic that gripped him. Heall probably shoot again before coming any closer. If I make the slightest movement, heall fire. Even if I donat he could still shoot.

He was holding his gun down by his side. He would have to lift it and aim. By lying flat in the gra.s.s, Khun had made himself an almost impossible target. Jaffe told himself he couldnat afford to miss. He began to lift the gun, inch by inch.

Khun lay in the gra.s.s, staring at the man lying some fifteen yards in front of him. He didnat know what to do. He wanted to shoot at the dim outline, and yet his mind kept warning him that if this wasnat Jaffe, he might be tried for murder.

He lay there, trying to make up his mind. The minutes ticked by. Jaffe watched him. He had got his gun up and it was levelled in the direction of the peak cap Jaffe could just make out against the dark background, but it was still too tricky a shot. So he waited.

After what seemed to be an eternity and was actually five minutes, Khun began to relax. The man was dead, he told himself. No one badly wounded could lie so still for so long. He had to see if it was Jaffe.

Spurred on by the feeling of panic, he rose to his knees, then straightened up and began to walk cautiously towards the fallen man.

Jaffe raised the barrel of his gun, keeping the gun down by his side so the approaching man couldnat see it against the skyline, and when Khun was within five yards of him, he gently squeezed the trigger.

The firing pin came down on the cap, making a loud click, but the gun didnat fire. The three-year old cartridge had betrayed Jaffe in his most urgent need.

Khun heard the sound and jumped aside, his breath whistling out of his open mouth. He saw a vast shape rise off the ground and come towards him in a lunging dive and he fired blindly.

The bullet sc.r.a.ped Jaffeas arm. He felt the burning pain but it didnat check his dive. Khun had no chance to fire directly at him again. Jaffeas arms encircled his bony legs and his shoulder thudded into his groin. Khun felt as if he had been charged by a bull. He felt himself being flung up in the air and he pulled the trigger of his gun, the bullet whizzing into the night sky, the flash of the gun momentarily blinding Jaffe.

The two men crashed down on the gra.s.s. The gun flew out of Khunas hand. He screamed out in terror as he felt an agonizing pain sweep through him. Jaffe struck him on the side of his head with his clenched fist and the little man, hopelessly outmatched, jerked upwards and then fell back ]imply.

Jaffe knelt over him, breathing heavily. His hands rested lightly on Khunas throat, ready to nip back a second scream. Khun mumbled something in Vietnamese which Jaffe couldnat understand. Then from his throat came a curious dry rattling sound, like the rustle of dry leaves. The sound made Jaffeas hair stand on end. Khunas head flopped sideways, and Jaffe knew he was dead.

He remained kneeling over the little man for some minutes too stunned to move, then finally he made an effort and stood up.

Another one dead! he thought. These little people are as brittle as matchsticks. I guess I must have broken his spine. Well, at least, this was in self defence. If I hadnat gone for him, he would have killed me.

Now what was he going to do? he asked himself. If they found this little manas body here, they might set a trap at the temple. Blackie was coming back the day after tomorrow. He would have to move him.

Walking stiffly, his mind jumping with alarm, he went back to his bicycle. He groped around for several seconds before he found his gun. He shoved it into his hip pocket. The gun was no good, he told himself. It had been just luck that it had fired the first time. He couldnat trust it any more.

He straightened his bicycle and wheeled it over to where Khun lay. Without much trouble, he hoisted the dead man over his shoulder, then wheeling his machine, he started across the rough gra.s.s towards the main road.

Just before he reached the road, he came upon Khunas bicycle. He couldnat leave it where it was. Balancing the dead man over his shoulder, he started off again, wheeling the two machines, holding them in either hand. When he reached the road, he got on his bicycle and steering the other, he pedalled off down the road.

I only need to run into someone, he thought. Thatas all it needs to round off a h.e.l.l of a lousy night.

But he didnat run into anyone. And after riding four or five miles, he dumped Khunas body in a ditch and the bicycle on top of him.

Before leaving, he took Khunas gun and cartridge belt.

As he rode back to Thudaumot, he hoped the police would think the little manas death was yet another Viet Minh outrage.

II.

Blackie Lee arrived back at the club at twenty minutes to one a.m. He parked his car, got out and stood for a moment breathing in the hot used-up air.

There was no movement in the street. Three rickshaws stood nearby along the kerb. The three rickshaw boys were sleeping in their vehicles. The neon lights that plastered the front of the club were out. They went out every night exactly at twelve. Looking up at the dark building, Blackie smiled to himself. In Hong Kong those lights would blaze until the early hours of the morning. There was no crippling curfew in Hong Kong.

He started towards the club, then paused as he saw a shadowy figure rise up out of a dark doorway and come towards him. He recognized the hard Mexican hat that Yo-Yo always wore and he frowned impatiently.

Yo-Yo sidled up to him.a aGood evening, Mr. Blackie,a he said. aI wanted to speak to you.a aSome other time,a Blackie said curtly. aItas late. See me tomorrow,a and he walked across to the entrance of the club and fumbled in his pocket for his keys.

Yo-Yo followed him.

aIt wonat wait until tomorrow, Mr. Blackie. I wanted your advice. Itas about the American, Jaffe.a Blackie restrained a start of alarm with an effort. His agile mind worked swiftly. What a fool he had been! He had forgotten he had sent Yo-Yo to follow Nhan. This little rat knew where Jaffe was hiding! He must have read about the reward in the newspapers.

aJaffe?a he said, looking over his shoulder at Yo-Yo, his fat face expressionless. aWhoas Jaffe?a aThe American who was kidnapped, Mr. Blackie,a Yo-Yo said, a derisive sneer in his voice.

Blackie hesitated, then he said, aYouad better come up,a and he waved Yo-Yo to goon ahead.

As Blackie followed him up the stairs, his elation left him. If this little rat has put two and two together, he thought, and made it four, he can ruin the whole of our plans.