Good evening double-o-seven.
My name is James Bond.
And members of your curious profession are few in
number. You have been recognised, let’s say by one of your opposite
numbers – who is also licenced to kill! Ho, that interesting car of
yours. I too have a new toy but, considerably more practical.
You are looking
at an industrial laser, which emits a light not found in nature. It
can project a spot on the moon, or at closer range cut through solid
metal I will show you.
(a beam of
light emits from the laser poised above Bond’s head and begins to
cut through the metal plate between Bond’s legs, all the time moving
slowly closer to
This is gold Mr
Bond. All my life I’ve been in love with its colour, its brilliance,
its divine heaviness. I welcome any enterprise that will increase my
stock – which is considerable.
I think you’ve made your point Goldfinger thank you for
Choose your next witticism carefully
Bond it may be your last! The purpose of our two previous encounters
is now very clear to me, I do not intend to be distracted by another
goodnight Mr Bond.
Do you expect me to talk?
No Mr Bond I expect you to die! There is nothing you can
talk to me about that I don’t already know.
Your forgetting one thing. If I fail to report
double-o-eight replaces me.
I trust he will be more successful.
He knows what I know!
You know nothing Mr Bond.
Operation, Grand Slam for instance.
Two words you may have overheard, which cannot possibly
have any significance to you or anyone in your organisation.
Can you afford to take the chance?
You are quite right Mr Bond, you are worth more to me
gestures to a control-room technician to turn off the laser beam.
Bond, soaked in nervous perspiration, releases a sigh of relief –
and so too does the cinema audience!)