if.goldfinger-第7部分

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She　swivelled　round。
　Bond　stepped　down　off　the　chair。　'Good　afternoon。'
　'Whoryou？　Whatyouwant？'　The　girl's　hand　was　up　to　her　mouth。　Her　eyes　screamed　at　him。
　'I've　got　what　I　want。　Don't　worry。　It's　all　over　now。　And　my^jmme's　Bond；　James　Bond。'
　Bond　put　his　camera　carefully　down　on　the　chair　and　came　and　stood　in　the　radius　of　her　scent。　She　was　very　beautiful。　She　had　the　palest　blonde　hair。　It　fell　heavily　to　her　shoulders；　unfashionably　long。　Her　eyes　were　deep　blue　against　a　lightly　sunburned　skin　and　her　mouth　was　bold　and　generous　and　would　have　a　lovely　smile。
　She　stood　up　and　took　her　hand　away　from　her　mouth。　She　was　tall；　perhaps　five　feet　ten；　and　her　arms　and　legs　looked　firm　as　if　she　might　be　a　swimmer。　Her　breasts　thrust　against　the　black　silk　of　the　brassiere。
　Some　of　the　fear　had　gone　out　of　her　eyes。　She　said　in　a　low　voice；　'What　are　you　going　to　do？'
　'Nothing　to　you。　I　may　tease　Goldfinger　a　bit。　Move　over　like　a　good　girl　and　let　me　have　a　look。'
　Bond　took　the　girl's　place　and　looked　through　the　glasses。　The　game　was　going　on　normally。　Goldfinger　showed　no　sign　that　his　munications　had　broken　down。
　'Doesn't　he　mind　not　getting　the　signals？　Will　he　stop　playing？'
　She　said　hesitatingly；　'It's　happened　before　when　a　plug　pulled　or　something。　He　just　waits　for　me　to　e　through　again。'
　Bond　smiled　at　her。　'Well；　let's　let　him　stew　for　a　bit。　Have　a　cigarette　and　relax；'　he　held　out　a　packet　of　Chesterfields。　She　took　one。　'Anyway　it's　time　you　did　the　nails　on　your　right　hand。'
　A　smile　flickered　across　her　mouth。　'How　long　were　you　there？　You　gave　me　a　frightful　shock。'
　'Not　long；　and　I'm　sorry　about　the　shock。　Goldfinger's　been　giving　poor　old　Mr　Du　Pont　shocks　for　a　whole　week。'
　'Yes；'　she　said　doubtfully。　'I　suppose　it's　really　rather　mean。　But　he's　very　rich；　isn't　he？'
　'Oh　yes。　I　shouldn't　lose　any　sleep　over　Mr　Du　Pont。　But　Goldfinger　might　choose　someone　who　can't　afford　it。　Anyway；　he's　a　millionaire　himself。　Why　does　he　do　it？　He's　crawling　with　money。'
　Animation　flooded　back　into　her　face。　'I　know。　I　simply　can't　understand　him。　It's　a　sort　of　mania　with　him；　making　money。　He　can't　leave　it　alone。　I've　asked　him　why　and　all　he　says　is　that　one's　a　fool　not　to　make　money　when　the　odds　are　right。　He's　always　going　on　about　the　same　thing；　getting　the　odds　right。　When　he　talked　me　into　doing　this；'　she　waved　her　cigarette　dt　the　binoculars；　'and　I　asked　him　why　on　earth　he　bothered；　took　these　stupid　risks；　all　he　said　was；　〃That's　the　second　lesson。　When　the　odds　aren't　right；　make　them　right'〃
　Bond　said；　'Well；　it's　lucky　for　him　I'm　not　Pinkertons　or　the　Miami　Police　Department。'
　The　girl　shrugged　her　shoulders。　'Oh；　that　wouldn't　worry　him。　He'd　just　buy　you　off。　He　can　buy　anyone　off。　No　one　can　resist　gold。'
　'What　do　you　mean？'
　She　said　indifferently；　'He　always　carries　a　million　dollars'　worth　of　gold　about　with　him　except　when　he's　going　through　the　Customs。　Then　he　just　carries　a　belt　full　of　gold　coins　round　his　stomach。　Otherwise　it's　in　thin　sheets　in　the　bottom　and　sides　of　his　suitcases。　They're　really　gold　suitcases　covered　with　leather。'
　'They　must　weigh　a　ton。'
　〃He　always　travels　by　car；　one　with　special　springs。　And　his　chauffeur　is　a　huge　man。　He　carries　them。　No　one　else　touches　them。'
　'Why　does　he　carry　around　all　that　gold？'
　'Just　in　case　he　needs　it。　He　knows　that　gold　will　buy　him　anything　he　wants。　It's　all　twenty…four　carat。　And　anyway　he　loves　gold；　really　loves　it　like　people　love　jewels　or　stamps　or　…　well；'　she　smiled；　'women。'
　Bond　smiled　back。　'Does　he　love　you？'
　She　blushed　and　said　indignantly；　'Certainly　not。'　Then；　more　reasonably；　'Of　course　you　can　think　anything　you　like。　But　really　he　doesn't。　I　mean；　I　think　he　likes　people　to　think　that　we　…　that　I'm　…　that　it's　a　question　of　love　and　all　that。　You　know。　He's　not　very　prepossessing　and　I　suppose　it's　a　question　of　…　well　…　of　vanity　or　something。'
　'Yes；　I　see。　So　you're　just　a　kind　of　secretary？'
　'panion；'　she　corrected　him。　'I　don't　have　to　type　or　anything。'　She　suddenly　put　her　hand　up　to　her　mouth。　'Oh；　but　I　shouldn't　be　telling　you　all　this！　You　won't　tell　him；　will　you？　He'd　fire　me。'　Fright　came　into　her　eyes。　'Or　something。　I　don't　know　what　he'd　do。　He's　the　sort　of　man　who　might　do　anything。'
　'Of　course　I　won't　tell。　But　this　can't　be　much　of　a　life　for　you。　Why　do　you　do　it？'
　She　said　tartly；　'A　hundred　pounds　a　week　and　all　this；'
　she　waved　at　the　room；'doesn't　grow　on　trees。　I　save　up。　When　I've　saved　enough　I　shall　go。'
　Bond　wondered　if　Goldfinger　would　let　her。　Wouldn't　she　know　too　much？　He　looked　at　the　beautiful　face；　the　splendid；　unselfconscious　body。　She　might　not　suspect　it；　but；　for　his　money；　she　was　in　very　bad　trouble　with　this　man。
　The　girl　was　fidgeting。　Now　she　said　with　an　embarrassed　laugh；　'I　don't　think　I'm　very　properly　dressed。　Can't　I　go　and　put　something　on　over　these？'
　Bond　wasn't　sure　he　could　trust　her。　It　wasn't　he　who　was　paying　the　hundred　pounds　a　week。　He　said　airily；　'You　look　fine。　Just　as　respectable　as　those　hundreds　of　people　round　the　pool。　Anyway；'　he　stretched；　'it's　about　time　to　fight　a　fire　under　Mr　Goldfinger。'
　Bond　had　been　glancing　down　at　the　game　from　time　to　time。　It　seemed　to　be　proceeding　normally。　Bond　bent　again　to　the　binoculars。　Already　Mr　Du　Pont　seemed　to　be　a　new　man；　his　gestures　were　expansive；　the　half…profile　of　his　pink　face　was　full　of　animation。　While　Bond　watched；　he　took　a　fistful　of　cards　out　of　his　hand　and　spread　them　down　…　a　pure　canasta　in　kings。　Bond　tilted　the　binoculars　up　an　inch。　The　big　red…brown　moon　face　was　impassive；　uninterested。　Mr　Goldfinger　was　waiting　patiently　for　the　odds　to　adjust　themselves　back　in　his　favour。　While　Bond　watched；　he　put　up　a　hand　to　the　hearing　aid；　pushing　the　amplifier　more　firmly　into　his　ear；　ready　for　the　signals　to　e　through　again。
　Bond　stepped　back。　'Neat　little　machine；'　he　mented。　〃What　are　you　transmitting　on？'
　'He　told　me；　but　I　can't　remember。'　She　screwed　up　her　eyes。　'A　hundred　and　seventy　somethings。　Would　it　be　mega…somethings？'
　'Megacycles。　Might　be；　but　I'd　be　surprised　if　he　doesn't　get　a　lot　of　taxicabs　and　police　messages　mixed　up　with　your　talk。　Must　have　fiendish　concentration。'　Bond　grinned。　'Now　then。　All　set？　It's　time　to　pull　the　rug　away。'
　Suddenly　she　reached　out　and　put　a　hand　on　his　sleeve。　There　was　a　Claddagh　ring　on　the　middle　finger　…　two　gold　hands　clasped　round　a　gold　heart。　There　were　tears　in　her　voice。　'Must　you？　Can't　you　leave　him　alone？　I　don't　know　what　he'll　do　to　me。　Please。'　She　hesitated。　She　was　blushing　furiously。　'And　I　like　you。　It's　a　long　time　since　I've　seen　someone　like　you。　Couldn't　you　just　stay　here　for　a　little　more？'　She　looked　down　at　the　ground。　'If　only　you'd　leave　him　alone　I'd　do'　…　the　words　came　out　in　a　rush　…　'I'd　do　anything。'
　Bond　smiled。　He　took　the　girl's　hand　off　his　arm　and　squeezed　it。　'Sorry。　I'm　being　paid　to　do　this　job　and　I　must　do　it。　Anyway'　…　his　voice　went　flat　…　'I　want　to　do　it。　It's　time　someone　cut　Mr　Goldfinger　down　to　size。　Ready？'
　Without　waiting　for　an　answer　he　bent　to　the　binoculars。　They　were　still　focused　on　Goldfinger。　Bond　cleared　his　throat。　He　watched　the　big　face　carefully。　His　hand　felt　for　the　microphone　switch　and　pressed　it　down。
　There　must　have　been　a　whisper　of　static　in　the　deaf　aid。　Goldfinger's　expression　didn't　alter；　but　he　slowly　raised　his　face　to　heaven　and　then　down　again；　as　if　in　benediction。
　Bond　spoke　softly；　menacingly　into　the　microphone。　'Now　hear　me；　Goldfinger。'　He　paused。　Not　a　flicker　of　expression；　but　Goldfinger　bent　his　head　a　fraction　as　if　listening。　He　studied　his　cards　intently；　his　hands　quite　still。
　'This　is　James　Bond　speaking。　Remember　me？　The　game's　finished　and　it's　time　to　pay。　I　have　a　photograph　of　the　whole　set…up；　blonde；　binoculars；　microphone　and　you　and　your　hearing　aid。　This　photograph　will　not　go　to　the　FBI　and　Scotland　Yard　so　long　as　you　obey　me　exactly。　Nod　your　head　if　you　understand。'
　The　face　was　still　expressionless。　Slowly　the　big　round　head　bent　forward　and　then　straightened　itself。
　'Put　your　cards　down　face　upwards　on　the　table。'
　The　hands　went　down。　They　opened　and　the　cards　slid　off　the　fingers　on　to　the　table。
　'Take　out　your　cheque　book　and　write　a　cheque　to　cash　for　fifty　thousand　dollars。　That　is　made　up　as　follows；　thirty…five　you　have　taken　from　Mr　Du　Pont。　Ten　for　my　fee。　The　extra　five　for　wasting　so　much　of　Mr　Du　Font's　valuable　time。'
　Bond　watched　to　see　that　his　order　was　being　obeyed。　He　took　a　glance　at　Mr　Du　Pont。　Mr　Du　Pont　was　leaning　forward；　gaping。
　Mr　Goldfinger　slowly　detached　the　cheque　and　countersigned　it　on　the　back。'
　'Right。　Now　jot　this　down　on　the　back　of　your　cheque　book　and　see　you　get　it　right。　Book　me　a　partment　on　the　Silver　Meteor　to　New　York　tonight。　Have　a　bottle　of　vintage　champagne　on　ice　in　the　partment　and　plenty　of　caviar　sandwiches。　The　best　caviar。　And　keep　away　from　me。　And　no　monkey　business。　The　photograph　will　be　in　the　mails　with　a　full　report　to　be　opened　and　acted　upon　if　I　don't　show　up　in　good　health　in　New　York　tomorrow。　Nod　if　you　understand。'
　Again　the　big　head　came　slowly　down　and　up　again。　Now　there　were　traces　of　sweat　on　the　high；　unlined　forehead。
　'Right；　now　hand　the　cheque　across　to　Mr　Du　Pont　and　say；　〃I　apologize　humbly。　I　have　been　cheating　you。〃　Then　you　can　go。'
　Bond　watched　the　hand　go　across　and　drop　the　cheque　in　front　of　Mr　Du　Pont。　The　mouth　opened　and　spoke。　The　eyes　were　placid；　slow。　Goldfinger　had　relaxed。　It　was　only　money。　He　had　paid　his　way　out。
　'Just　a　moment；　Goldfinger；　you're　not　through　yet。'　Bond　glanced　up　at　the　girl。　She　was　looking　at　him　strangely。　There　was　misery　and　fear　but　also　a　look　of　submissiveness；　of　longing。
　'What's　your　name？'
　'Jill　Masterton。'
　'Goldfinger　had　stood　up；　was　turning　away。　Bond　said　sharply；　'Stop。'
　Goldfinger　stopped　in　mid…stride。　Now　his　eyes　looked　up　at　the　balcony。　They　had　opened　wide；　as　when　Bond　had　first　met　him。　Their　hard；　level；　X…ray　gaze　seemed　to　find　the　lenses　of　the　binoculars；　travel　down　them　and　through　Bond's　eyes　to　the　back　of　his　s