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 communications 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 come 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.’