if.goldfinger-第6部分

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een　with　the　necessary　two　canastas。
　'By　golly；　I　nearly　screwed　you　that　time。'　Mr　Du　Font's　voice　had　an　edge　of　exasperation。　'What　in　hell　told　you　to　cut　an'　run？'
　Goldfinger　said　indifferently；　'I　smelled　trouble。'　He　added　up　his　points；　announced　them　and　jotted　them　down；　waiting　for　Mr　Du　Pont　to　do　the　same。　Then　he　cut　the　cards　and　sat　back　and　regarded　Bond　with　polite　interest。
　'Will　you　be　staying　long；　Mr　Bomb？'
　Bond　smiled。　'It's　Bond；　B…O…N…D。　No；　I　have　to　go　back　to　New　York　tonight。'
　'How　sad。'　Goldfinger's　mouth　pursed　in　polite　regret。　He　turned　back　to　the　cards　and　the　game　went　on。　Bond　picked　up　his　paper　and　gazed；　unseeing；　at　the　baseball　scores；　while　he　listened　to　the　quiet　routine　of　the　game。　Goldfinger　won　that　hand　and　the　next　and　the　next。　He　won　the　game。　There　was　a　difference　of　one　thousand　five　hundred　points　…one　thousand　five　hundred　dollars　to　Goldfinger。
　'There　it　goes　again！'　It　was　the　plaintive　voice　of　Mr　Du　Pont。
　Bond　put　down　his　paper。　'Does　he　usually　win？'
　'Usually！'　The　word　was　a　snort。　'He　always　wins。'
　They　cut　again　and　Goldfinger　began　to　deal。
　Bond　said；　'Don't　you　cut　for　seats？　I　often　find　a　change　of　seat　helps　the　luck。　Hostage　to　fortune　and　so　on。'
　Goldfinger　paused　in　his　deal。　He　bent　his　gaze　gravely　on　Bond。　'Unfortunately；　Mr　Bond；　that　is　not　possible　or　I　could　not　play。　As　I　explained　to　Mr　Du　Pont　at　our　first　game；　I　suffer　from　an　obscure　plaint　…　agoraphobia　…the　fear　of　open　spaces。　I　cannot　bear　the　open；horizon。　I　must　sit　and　face　the　hotel。'　The　deal　continued。
　'Oh；　I'm　so　sorry。'　Bond's　voice　was　grave；　interested。　'That's　a　very　rare　disability。　I've　always　been　able　to　understand　claustrophobia；　but　not　the　other　way　round。　How　did　it　e　about？'
　Goldfinger　picked　up　his　cards　and　began　to　arrange　his　hand。　'I　have　no　idea；'　he　said　equably。
　Bond　got　up。　'Well；　I　think　I'll　stretch　my　legs　for　a　bit。　See　what's　going　on　in　the　pool。'
　'You　do　just　that；'　said　Mr　Du　Pont　jovially。　'Just　take　it　easy；　James。　Plenty　of　time　to　discuss　business　over　lunch。　I'll　see　if　I　can't　dish　it　out　to　my　friend　Goldfinger　this　time　instead　of　taking　it。　Be　seeing　you。'
　Goldfinger　didn't　look　up　from　his　cards。　Bond　strolled　down　the　roof；　past　the　occasional　splayed…out　body；　to　the　rail　at　the　far　end　that　overlooked　the　pool。　For　a　time　he　stood　and　contemplated　the　ranks　of　pink　and　brown　and　white　flesh　laid　out　below　him　on　the　steamer　chairs。　The　heavy　scent　of　suntan　oil　came　up　to　him。　There　were　a　few　children　and　young　people　in　the　pool。　A　man；　obviously　a　professional　diver；　perhaps　the　swimming　instructor；　stood　on　the　high…dive。　He　balanced　on　the　balls　of　his　feet；　a　muscled　Greek　god　with　golden　hair。　He　bounced　once；　casually；　and　flew　off　and　down；　his　arms　held　out　like　wings。　Lazily　they　arrowed　out　to　cleave　the　water　for　the　body　to　pass　through。　The　impact　left　only　a　brief　turbulence。　The　diver　jack…knifed　up　again；　shaking　his　head　boyishly。　There　was　a　smattering　of　applause。　The　man　trudged　slowly　down　the　pool；　his　head　submerged；　his　shoulders　moving　with　casual　power。　Bond　thought；　good　luck　to　you！　You　won't　be　able　to　keep　this　up　for　more　than　another　five　or　six　years。　High…divers　couldn't　take　it　for　long　…　the　repeated　shock　to　the　skull。　With　ski…jumping；　which　had　the　same　shattering　effect　on　the　frame；　high…diving　was　the　shortest…lived　sport。　Bond　radioed　to　the　diver；　'Cash　in　quick！　Get　into　films　while　the　hair's　still　gold。'
　Bond　turned　and　looked　back　down　the　roof　towards　the　two　Canasta　players　beneath　the　cliff　of　the　hotel。　So　Gold…finger　liked　to　face　the　hotel。　Or　was　it　that　he　liked　Mr　Du　Pont　to　have　his　back　to　it？　And　why？　Now；　what　was　the　number　of　Goldfinger's　suite？　No　200；　the　Hawaii　Suite。　Bond's　on　the　top　floor　was　1200。　So；　all　things　being　equal；　Goldfinger's　would　be　directly　below　Bond's；　on　the　second　floor；　twenty　yards　or　so　above　the　roof　of　the　Cabana　Club　…twenty　yards　from　the　card　table。　Bond　counted　down。　He　closely　examined　the　frontage　that　should　be　Goldfinger's。　Nothing。　An　empty　sun　balcony。　An　open　door　into　the　dark　interior　of　the　suite。　Bond　measured　distances；　angles。　Yes；　that's　how　it　might　be。　That's　how　it　must　be！　Clever　Mr　Goldfinger！
　
　CHAPTER　FOUR
　
　OVER　THE　BARREL
　
　AFTER　LUNCHEON　…the　traditional　shrimp　cocktail；　'native'　snapper　with　a　minute　paper　cup　of　tartare　sauce；　roast　prime　ribs　of　beef　au　jus；　and　pineapple　surprise…　it　was　time　for　the　siesta　before　meeting　Goldfinger　at　three　o'clock　for　the　afternoon　session。
　Mr　Du　Pont；　who　had　lost　a　further　ten　thousand　dollars　or　more；　confirmed　that　Goldfinger　had　a　secretary。　'Never　seen　her。　Sticks　to　the　suite。　Probably　just　some　chorine　he's　brought　down　for　the　ride。'　He　smiled　wetly。　'I　mean　the　daily　ride。　Why？　You　on　to　something？'
　Bond　was　non…mittal。　'Can't　tell　yet。　I　probably　won't　be　ing　down　this　afternoon。　Say　I　got　bored　watching　…gone　into　the　town。'　He　paused。　'But　if　my　idea's　right；　don't　be　surprised　at　what　may　happen。　If　Goldfinger　starts　to　behave　oddly；　just　sit　quiet　and　watch。　I'm　not　promising　anything。　I　think　I've　got　him；　but　I　may　be　wrong。'
　Mr　Du　Pont　was　enthusiastic。　'Good　for　you；　boyo！'　he　said　effusively。　'I　just　can't　wait　to　see　that　bastard　over　the　barrel。　Damn　his　eyes！'
　Bond　took　the　elevator　up　to　his　suite。　He　went　to　his　suitcase　and　extracted　an　M3　Leica；　an　MC　exposure　meter；　a　K2　filter　and　a　flash…holder。　He　put　a　bulb　in　the　holder　and　checked　the　camera。　He　went　to　his　balcony；　glanced　at　the　sun　to　estimate　where　it　would　be　at　about　three…thirty　and　went　back　into　the　sitting…room；　leaving　the　door　to　the　balcony　open。　He　stood　at　the　balcony　door　and　aimed　the　exposure　meter。　The　exposure　was　one…hundredth　of　a　second。　He　set　this　on　the　Leica；　put　the　shutter　at　f　11；　and　the　distance　at　twelve　feet。　He　clipped　on　a　lens　hood　and　took　one　picture　to　see　that　all　was　working。　Then　he　wound　on　the　film；　slipped　in　the　flash…holder　and　put　the　camera　aside。
　Bond　went　to　his　suitcase　and　took　out　a　thick　book　…　The　Bible　Designed　to　be　Read　as　Literature…　opened　it　and　extracted　his　Walther　PPK　in　the　Berns　Martin　holster。　He　slipped　the　holster　inside　his　trouser　band　to　the　left。　He　tried　one　or　two　quick　draws。　They　were　satisfactory。　He　closely　examined　the　geography　of　his　suite；　on　the　assumption　that　it　would　be　exactly　similar　to　the　Hawaii。　He　visualized　the　scene　that　would　almost　certainly　greet　him　when　he　came　through　the　door　of　the　suite　downstairs。　He　tried　his　pass…key　in　the　various　locks　and　practised　opening　the　doors　noiselessly。　Then　he　pulled　a　fortable　chair　in　front　of　the　open　balcony　door　and　sat　and　smoked　a　cigarette　while　he　gazed　out　across　the　sea　and　thought　of　how　he　would　put　things　to　Goldfinger　when　the　time　came。
　At　three…fifteen；　Bond　got　up　and　went　out　on　to　the　balcony　and　cautiously　looked　down　at　the　two　tiny　figures　across　the　square　of　green　baize。　He　went　back　into　the　room　and　checked　the　exposure　meter　on　the　Leica。　The　light　was　the　same。　He　slipped　on　the　coat　of　his　dark　blue　tropical　worsted　suit；　straightened　his　tie　and　slung　the　strap　of　the　Leica　round　his　neck　so　that　the　camera　hung　at　his　chest。　Then；　with　a　last　look　round；　he　went　out　and　along　to　the　elevator。　He　rode　down　to　the　ground　floor　and　examined　the　shop　windows　in　the　foyer。　When　the　elevator　had　gone　up　again；　he　walked　to　the　staircase　and　slowly　climbed　up　two　floors。　The　geography　of　the　second　floor　was　identical　with　the　twelfth。　Room　200　was　where　he　had　expected　it　to　be。　There　was　no　one　in　sight。　He　took　out　his　pass…key　and　silently　opened　the　door　and　closed　it　behind　him。　In　the　small　lobby；　a　raincoat；　a　light　camel…hair　coat　and　a　pale　grey　Homburg　hung　on　hooks。　Bond　took　his　Leica　firmly　in　his　right　hand；　held　it　up　close　to　his　face　and　gently　tried　the　door　to　the　sitting…room：　It　was　not　locked。　Bond　eased　it　open。
　Even　before　he　could　see　what　he　expected　to　see　he　could　hear　the　voice。　It　was　a　low；　attractive；　girl's　voice；　an　English　voice。　It　was　saying；　'Drew　five　and　four。　pleted　canasta　in　fives　with　two　twos。　Discarding　four。　Has　singletons　in　king's；　knaves；　nines；　sevens。'
　Bond　slid　into　the　room。
　The　girl　was　sitting　on　two　cushions　on　top　of　a　table　which　had　been　pulled　up　a　yard　inside　the　open　balcony　door。　She　had　needed　the　cushions　to　give　her　height。　It　was　at　the　top　of　the　afternoon　heat　and　she　was　naked　except　for　a　black　brassiere　and　black　silk　briefs。　She　was　swinging　her　legs　in　a　bored　fashion。　She　had　just　finished　painting　the　nails　on　her　left　hand。　Now　she　stretched　the　hand　out　in　front　of　her　to　examine　the　effect。　She　brought　the　hand　back　close　to　her　lips　and　blew　on　the　nails。　Her　right　hand　reached　sideways　and　put　the　brush　back　in　the　Revlon　bottle　on　the　table　beside　her。　A　few　inches　from　her　eyes　were　the　eyepieces　of　a　powerful…looking　pair　of　binoculars　supported　on　a　tripod　whose　feet　reached　down　between　her　sunburned　legs　to　the　floor。　Jutting　out　from　below　the　binoculars　was　a　microphone　from　which　wires　led　to　a　box　about　the　size　of　a　portable　record　player　under　the　table。　Other　wires　ran　from　the　box　to　a　gleaming　indoor　aerial　on　the　sideboard　against　the　wall。
　The　briefs　tightened　as　she　leant　forward　again　and　put　her　eyes　to　the　binoculars。　'Drew　a　queen　and　a　king。　Meld　of　queens。　Can　meld　kings　with　a　joker。　Discarding　seven。'　She　switched　off　the　microphone。
　While　she　was　concentrating；　Bond　stepped　swiftly　across　the　floor　until　he　was　almost　behind　her。　There　was　a　chair。　He　stood　on　it；　praying　it　wouldn't　squeak。　Now　he　had　the　height　to　get　the　whole　scene　in　focus。　He　put　his　eye　to　the　viewfinder。　Yes；　there　it　was；　all　in　line；　the　girl's　head；　the　edge　of　the　binoculars；　the　microphone　and；　twenty　yards　below；　the　two　men　at　the　table　with　Mr　Du　Font's　hand　of　cards　held　in　front　of　him。　Bond　could　distinguish　the　reds　and　the　blacks。　He　pressed　the　button。
　The　sharp　explosion　of　the　bulb　and　the　blinding　flash　of　light　forced　a　quick　scream　out　of　the　girl。　She　swivelled　round。
　Bond　stepped　down　off　the　chair。　'Good　afternoon。'
　'Whoryou？　Whatyouwant？