Remo moved along. He came to a locked room. There was a slit of a viewport in the rust-colored marble. He knocked. His knock sounded like wet clay against steel. It was hardly a plop. So Remo knocked harder. The marble cracked along its entire height.
A pair of frightened eyes came to the port.
"Is this where the security staff work?" Remos asked.
"Who are you?"
"I'll take that as a yes," Remo said. He hit the crack with the edge of his palm. The crack fissured and the door fell back in two heavy sections. The owner of the frightened eyes barely had time to jump back.
Remo walked over the shattered marble and examined the room.
A battery of video monitors occupied one wall. Each monitor had a uniformed guard attending it. There were no controls in front of them. The monitors were embedded in the same richly textured marble as the bank walls.
"Who controls the lobby cameras?" Remo asked of no one in particular.
"A computer," the guard told him.
"Who controls the computer?"
"No one."
"Damn," said Remo, thinking that he had just wasted ten minutes. He decided to trip up the guard with a trick question.
"I was told the office of Friendship, International was on this floor."
"By whom? This entire building belongs to Longines Credit Bank. There is no other occupant."
"Maybe they never told you."
"As head of security, it would be my business to know." The guard sounded sincere, so Remo told him to carry on.
"But the door. It is broken."
"After three hundred years, what do you expect?" Remo said, looking for the stairs.
In the lobby, Chiun told Remo that he had overheard no one answering the phones as Friendship, International. "Smith can't be wrong," Remo said firmly.
"Perhaps it is his computer that is wrong," Chiun retorted.
"I don't know. Computers aren't supposed to make mistakes."
"Neither are Masters of Sinanju, but it has happened, I regret to say."
"Must be a full moon," Remo said, looking at the ceiling.
"Blue," corrected Chiun. "Blue moon. Such things happen under blue moons, not full ones."
"How silly of me," said Remo, thinking. Even though the two of them obviously didn't belong here, the bank officers working at their desks continued to work. Telephones rang constantly. And with wary eyes on Remo and Chiun, the bank officers answered them. No one used the phrase "Friendship, International."
"Hey. I have an idea. Maybe Smith can help us."
"Right now, Smith cannot help himself. He has fallen in love with a machine."
"He's not that bad off," Remo said, pulling out his communicator. He fiddled with it until he got Smith's voice.
"Remo? Is that you?"
"Who else?" Remo asked acidly. "Smitty, we're at that bank, but we can't find anything that connects to Friendship, International."
"Keep searching."
"I thought you might help. You know, give the troops in the field a tiny assist."
"How?"
"Call Friendship, International."
"What good will that do?"
"We want to see who picks up what phone on this end."
"Of course. How dense of me. One moment."
Remo listened. Chiun pulled at his arm and brought the communicator to his shell-like ear.
"You should be listening to this end, not that one," Remo pointed out.
Through the communicator they heard a distant ringing and then a voice said, "Friendship, International."
Remo listened. No phone rang in the lobby. No one at a desk made a move or spoke a word.
"Nothing," Chiun said, "Smith must be wrong."
"Psstt. Smitty, keep him talking."
"Is this Friendship, International?" Smith was heard asking.
"Clever, Smitty," Remo said, rolling his eyes. "Let's spread out, Little Father."
Remo moved to one end of the lobby and Chiun to the entrance. They listened attentively, walking around the lobby. The manager had not reemerged from his office and the floor staff decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
Chiun suddenly perked up.
"Remo, over here," he squeaked excitedly. Remo raced to the entrance.
"Under our feet," Chiun whispered. "Feel the vibrations." Remo got down on the marble. A steady hum came to his sensitive fingers. He put an ear to the floor.