‘There is some mistake here, sir,’ he said. ‘We have no account in this name. Are you sure you have the name right?’
I shrugged my shoulders impatiently.
‘I wouldn’t swear to it. This happens to be a bridge debt. I was playing against Miss Marschal and I lost. I hadn’t my cheque book with me. I promised to pay what I owe her into this bank. I understand she doesn’t bank here, but you look after any money paid in.’
He stared at me.
‘That is right, sir, if it’s the client we deal with, but her name isn’t Marschal. It wouldn’t be Rima Marshall. The name having no ‘c’ and two ‘lls’?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ I said. ‘Maybe I had better check.’ Then very casually, I went on, ‘I don’t happen to have her address. Maybe you can give it to me?’
He took that without a blink.
‘If you will address your letter care of the bank, sir, we’ll be happy to forward it.’
I was pretty sure he would say exactly that, but all the same, I was disappointed.
‘I’ll do that. Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome, sir.’
I nodded to him, put the money back in my wallet and walked out.
That was the first move. I now knew where the record card was kept. I now had to get at it.
I took a taxi to a quiet, inexpensive hotel, booked in, and as soon as I got to my room, I telephoned the Pacific and Union bank. I asked to be put through to the manager.
When he came on the line, I introduced myself as Edward Masters and asked him if he could see me around ten o’clock the following morning. I said there was some business I wanted to discuss with him.
He made an appointment for ten fifteen.
It irked me that I could do nothing further until the following morning, but this was something I couldn’t rush. I was acutely aware that thirteen years ago the Los Angeles police had been searching for a man with a drooping eyelid and a scar on his jaw. For all I knew there might be some keen veteran who might recognise me even now so I spent the rest of the day in the hotel lounge, and I went to bed early.
The following morning I arrived at the bank at a minute to quarter past ten.
I was shown immediately into the manager’s office.
The manager, a fat, elderly man with a bedside manner, shook my hand heartily. At the same time he managed to convey that he was pretty busy and it would be all right with him if I got down to business without wasting too much of his time.
I told him I was representing a firm of building contractors. I said we had our head office in New York and we were planning to set up a branch office in Los Angeles. We had decided to bank with Pacific and Union, and I gave him to understand we were pretty big operators. I asked his advice about obtaining premises. I said we would need plenty of room as we had ten executives and a staff of over two hundred. I could see that made an impression on him. He gave me the name of an Estate Agent who, he told me, could fix me up. I told him we planned to transfer about two million dollars from our New York bank to his to give us a start. That impressed him too.
Anything he could do, he told me, he would be pleased to do. I had only to ask and the services of the bank would be at my disposal.
‘I don’t think there is,’ I said. Then after a pause I went on, ‘Maybe there is one thing. I see you have a pretty up-to-date office equipment system here. This is something I want to install in our offices. Who are the people to go to?’
‘Chandler and Carrington are the best people,’ he said. ‘They have all the necessary equipment you would need.’
‘In a way, our business is a little like yours,’ I said, moving cautiously to the reason why I was sitting facing him. ‘We have clients all over. We need to keep in touch with them. We need records of our association with them. There’s a file and finding machine you have here. I’m interested in it. Do you find it satisfactory?’
I was lucky. It seemed this particular machine was something in which he took a lot of pride.
‘It has proved more than satisfactory. I admit it is expensive, but in the long run, it can’t be beaten.’
‘I only caught a glimpse of it as I came in,’ I said. ‘You really are pleased with it?’
‘Look, Mr. Masters, if you’re interested, I’d be happy for you to see a demonstration. We are more than satisfied. Would you care to see the machine operating?’
I forced myself to sound casual.
‘I don’t want to bother you…’
‘It’s no bother: it’s a pleasure.’ He pressed a button on his desk. ‘I’ll get Mr. Flemming to show it to you.’
‘As soon as we find the right premises, I’ll be in touch with you again,’ I said. ‘I appreciate your help.’
A clerk appeared in the doorway: an earnest looking guy who waited hopefully and expectantly.
‘Flemming, this is Mr. Masters. He will be opening an account with us. Mr. Masters is interested in our Filing and Finding machine. Will you demonstrate it to him?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The guy bowed to me. ‘It’ll be a pleasure.’
I got up. My legs felt shaky. I knew I was half way there, but half way there wasn’t enough. I shook hands with the manager, again thanked him for his help, then followed Flemming out of the office, up the stairs and along the gallery.
We stopped by the machine.
A girl, sitting before it, swung her chair around and looked at us inquiringly.
Flemming introduced me, then he went ahead and explained how the machine worked.
‘We have three thousand five hundred odd clients,’ he told me. ‘Each client has a number. We keep a fist of numbers right here on this card.’
He pointed to a big card hanging on the wall. I walked over to it and stared at it, my eyes moving over it swiftly. I found Rima’s name. It looked odd to me to see the neat lettering that spelt out:
My mind absorbed the number: it absorbed it the way I have never absorbed any other thing before in my life.
‘Having got the number,’ Flemming went on, ‘all we have to do is to press the keys that make up the number and the record card is immediately dropped into the tray here.’
‘That sounds fine,’ I said, smiling at him, ‘but does it work?’
The girl who had been listening gave me a pitying smile.
‘It never fails.’
‘Give me a demonstration,’ I said, smiling back at her.
‘Take the first number on our list,’ Flemming said. ‘R. Aitken. His number is 0001. Miss Laker, give me Mr. Aitken’s card.’
She swung around, pressed the keys. The machine hummed into life and a card fell into a tray.
‘Just like that,’ Flemming said, beaming at me.
I held out my hand.
‘I’m a sceptic. Maybe the card has nothing to do with Mr. Aitken.’
Happily, he handed the card to me.
I saw it had ‘Aitken’ printed in large type at the top of the card.
‘Yes. It’s impressive. Looks like I’ll have to invest in a machine like this. Could I have a try?’
‘Certainly, Mr. Masters. You go ahead.’
I bent over the keyboard. I pressed down the keys that spelt out 2997.
My heart was thumping so violently I was scared he and the girl would hear it.
The machine hummed. The cards flicked through the metal holder. I stood there, feeling sweat on my face, watching and waiting, then I saw the lone white card slide into the tray.
Flemming and the girl smiled.
‘The number you selected belongs to Miss Rima Marshall,’ Flemming said. ‘See for yourself if it is the correct
