if.goldfinger-第7节

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ned　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？'　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　c