Then followed a deadly silence. It went on and on. We both knew the other was awake, unable to sleep, worried and bitterly hurt.
The shadowy ghost of Rima stood between our beds, pushing us apart, threatening our happiness.
I had to find her.
I had to rid myself of her.
II
I arrived at Los Angeles Airport a little after one o’clock and took a taxi to the Pacific and Union Bank.
Every spare moment, and they were few, that I had had during the past two weeks, I had wracked my brains as to how I was to get the address of Rima’s other bank. It was certain the Pacific and Union would have a record of the address, and my first move was to try to find out how and where this record was kept.
As I paid off the taxi, I was relieved to see that the bank was a big one. I had feared it might have been a small branch affair with only a few staff who would remember me. But this was a vast building with a commissionaire on the door, and a continuous flow of customers going in and out.
I walked into the big reception hall. On either side were the grills behind which stood the tellers. At every station was a small group of people, waiting. Around and behind these stations was a gallery where I could see clerks busy with calculating machines, duplicators and such like. At the far end of the hall I could see the glass cages for the bank officers.
I walked to one of the grills and got behind the short queue. Murmuring apologies, I reached over and took a pay-in slip from the rack. From my wallet I took ten five dollar bills. After a few minutes, there was only one customer ahead of me and I could reach the counter. I wrote in bold block letters at the head of the pay-in slip
The man in front of me moved away and I pushed the ten five dollar bills and the pay-in slip under the grill.
The teller took the slip, lifted his rubber stamp, then paused and frowned. He glanced up at me.
I was leaning against the counter, staring away from him, my face expressionless.
‘I don’t think this is correct, sir,’ he said to me.
I turned and stared at him.
‘What do you mean?’
He hesitated, looked again at the pay-in slip, then said, ‘If you will wait a moment…’
It was working out the way I had hoped it would. He took the slip and leaving his station, he walked briskly down the long counter to the stairs that led up to the gallery. I stood back so I could watch him.
He went up the stairs and along the gallery to where a girl was sitting at a big machine. He spoke to her.
She swung around in her chair to a big card that hung on the wall. I watched her run her ringer down what seemed a list of names, then she turned to the machine, pressed buttons, and after a moment, she reached forward and then gave the teller a card.
My heart was thumping.
I knew then that she had operated an automatic Finding and Filing machine which could produce the card containing particulars of any client by pressing numbered keys: each client having his or her own particular number.
When the keys were pressed, the card would be shot into a tray.
I watched the teller study the card and then my pay-in slip. He gave the card to the girl and then hurried back to me.
‘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.
