GOLDFINGER: Good evening, double-o-seven.
JAMES BOND: My name is James Bond.
GOLDFINGER: 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 his crotch.)
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.
JAMES BOND: I think you’ve made your point Goldfinger, thank you
for the demonstration.
GOLDFINGER: Choose your next witticism carefully, Mr 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. |
|
JAMES
BOND: Do you expect me to talk?
GOLDFINGER: No, Mr Bond. I expect you to die! There is nothing you
can talk to me about that I don’t already know.
JAMES BOND: Your forgetting one thing. If I fail to report
double-o-eight replaces me.
GOLDFINGER: I trust he will be more successful.
JAMES BOND: Well, he knows what I know!
GOLDFINGER: You know nothing, Mr Bond.
JAMES BOND: Operation, Grand Slam, for instance.
GOLDFINGER: Two words you may have overheard, which cannot
possibly have any significance to you or anyone in your organisation.
JAMES BOND: Can you afford to take the chance?
GOLDFINGER: You are quite right, Mr Bond. You are worth more to me
alive.
(Goldfinger 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!) |