[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

black slacks. And something else - a straight gleam of metal along the ground. It began beneath the clump of black hair and ran
past the trunk of the trees into the grass.
Bond slowly, wearily bent his head and looked at the ground between his spread hands. It was the girl, Tilly. She was
watching the buildings below. She had a rifle - a rifle that must have been among the innocent golf clubs - ready to fire on
them. Damn and blast the silly bitch!
Bond slowly relaxed. It didn't matter who she was or what she was up to. He measured the distance, planned each stride - the
trajectory of the final spring, left hand to her neck, right to the gun. Now!
Bond's chest skidded over the hump of the buttocks and thudded into the small of the girl's back. The impact emptied the
breath out of her with a soft grunt. The fingers of Bond's left hand flew to the throat and found the carotid artery. His right
hand was on the waist of the rifle's stock. He prised the fingers away, felt that the safety catch was on and reached the rifle far
to one side.
Bond eased the weight of his chest off the girl's back and moved his fingers away from her neck. He closed them softly over
her mouth. Beneath him, he felt the body heave, the lungs labouring for breath. She was still out. Carefully Bond gathered the
two hands behind the girl's back and held them with his right. Beneath him the buttocks began to squirm. The legs jerked.
Bond pinned the legs to the ground with his stomach and thighs, noting the strong muscles bunched under him. Now the breath
was rasping through his fingers. Teeth gnawed at his hand. Bond inched carefully forwards along the girl. He got his mouth
through her hair to her ear. He whispered urgently, 'Tilly, for Christ's sake. Stay still! This is me, Bond. I'm a friend. This is
vital. Something you don't know about. Will you stay still and listen?'
The teeth stopped reaching for his fingers. The body relaxed and lay soft under his. After a time, the head nodded once.
Bond slid off her. He lay beside her, still holding her hands prisoned behind her back. He whispered, 'Get your breath. But
 45
tell me, were you after Goldfinger?'
The pale face glanced sideways and away. The girl whispered fiercely into the ground, 'I was going to kill him.'
Some girl Goldfinger had put in the family way. Bond let go her hands. She brought them up and rested her head on them.
Her whole body shuddered with exhaustion and released nerves. The shoulders began to shake softly. Bond reached out a hand
and smoothed her hair, quietly, rhythmically. His eyes carefully went over the peaceful, unchanged scene below. Unchanged?
There was something. The radar thing on the cowl of the chimney. It wasn't going round any more. It had stopped with its
oblong mouth pointing in their direction. The fact had no significance for Bond. Now the girl wasn't crying any more. Bond
nuzzled his mouth close to her ear. Her hair smelled of jasmine. He whispered, TJon't worry. I'm after him too. And I'm going
to damage him far worse than you could have done. I've been sent after him by London. They want him. What did he do to
you?'
She whispered, almost to herself, 'He killed my sister. You knew her - Jill Masterton.'
.Bond said fiercely, 'What happened?'
'He has a woman once a month. Jill told me this when she first took the job. He hypnotizes them. Then he - he paints them
gold.'
'Christ! Why?'
'I don't know. Jill told me he's mad about gold. I suppose he sort of thinks he's - that he's sort of possessing gold. You know -
marrying it. He gets some Korean servant to paint them. The man has to leave their backbones unpainted. Jill couldn't explain
that. I found out it's so they wouldn't die. If their bodies were completely covered with gold paint, the pores of the skin
wouldn't be able to breathe. Then they'd die. Afterwards, they're washed down by the Korean with resin or something.
Goldfinger gives them a thousand dollars and sends them away.
Bond saw the dreadful Oddjob with his pot of gold paint, Goldfinger's eyes gloating over the glistening statue, the fierce
possession. 'What happened to Jill?'
'She cabled me to come. She was in an emergency ward in a hospital in Miami. Goldfinger had thrown her out. She was
dying. The doctors didn't know what was the matter. She told me what had happened to her - what he had done to her. She died
the same night.' The girl's voice was dry - matter of fact. 'When I got back to England I went to Train, the skin specialist. He
told me this business about the pores of the skin. It had happened to some cabaret girl who had to pose as a silver statue. He
showed me details of the case and the autopsy. Then I knew what had happened to Jill. Gold-finger had had her painted all
over. He had murdered her. It must have been out of revenge for - for going with you.' There was a pause. The girl said dully,
'She told me about you. She - she liked you. She told me if ever I met you I was to give you this ring.'
Bond closed his eyes tight, fighting with a wave of mental nausea. More death! More blood on his hands. This time, as the
result of a careless gesture, a piece of bravado that had led to twenty-four hours of ecstasy with a beautiful girl who had taken
his fancy and, in the end, rather more than his fancy. And this petty sideswipe at Goldfinger's ego had been returned by
Goldfinger a thousand, a millionfold. 'She left my employ' - the flat words in the sunshine at Sandwich two days before. How
Goldfinger must have enjoyed saying that! Bond's fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. By God, he'd pin this murder on [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]