A View to a Kill Page #3

small enough to fit into

the tip of a jockey's whip

or a cane.

The lights!

There's a world surplus of microchips

and Zorin is hoarding them!

(whir of machinery)

- Dis donc, on va voir ce qui se passe?

- D'accord.

(whirring)

- I'm afraid I wasn't much help.

- Don't worry. It's all wrapped up.

Keep your guard up higher.

And retain your balance.

(muffled shouts)

- Aiiii!

- Oof!

- What now?

- We'd better get back.

The tape ran out five minutes ago.

(phone rings)

I told you not to disturb us.

(Scarpine) It's important.

There's been intruders in the warehouse.

Put Security on full alert.

Let's see where Mr St John Smythe is.

He was the man at the Eiffel Tower.

- We must find him.

- I'll get dressed.

(Bond) May Day, where have you been?

I've been waiting for you.

To take care of me personally.

I see you're a woman of very few words.

What's there to say?

- Is everything here?

- Ja, ja.

Except this.

It is in the wrong place.

Bring St John Smythe to my study

first thing in the morning.

- (Bond) Good morning.

- Good morning.

I understand you wish to see me.

- You slept well?

- A little restless, but I got off eventually.

I have the Progeny Index on the computer:

A compilation of

thoroughbred bloodlines.

Might be helpful to you in selecting

your purchase this afternoon.

As I see it, you need a stallion. For breeding.

A stallion sounds right to me.

I find a computer indispensable.

I have a stallion.

Descended from that horse there.

Misty.

We have several horses

that might interest you.

Would you be interested

primarily in stamina?

- Or speed?

- Well, a little of both would be ideal.

I think I have just the horse for you.

(clock chimes)

It's time for my morning ride.

- Why don't you try him out?

- That sounds a very good idea.

- I shall get into some riding clothes.

- Good.

Half an hour, then. Scarpine will collect you.

Thank you.

(hums)

Tibbett, get into town, call M

and ask him to put a trace on this cheque.

Be quick. If those guards we laid out

identify us we'll have to move fast.

What shall I say if they ask where I'm going?

Just tell them

you have to get the car washed.

Just going to town to get the car washed.

- Your mount, Mr St John Smythe.

- A beautiful beast.

A little spirited. What's his name?

Inferno.

(neighs)

Merci.

- Friends of yours?

- Exercise boys.

Jumping together is more realistic training.

Frankly, I prefer cross-country

to steeplechase.

As one sportsman to another,

I'll make you a proposition.

You can have that lthacus colt gratis

if you stay this course.

- And if I'm thrown?

- Then you lose.

You leave me little choice.

Splendid. Scarpine will start us.

(neighs)

Steady!

Keep going! Keep going!

Sir Godfrey. Let's get...

You lost, 007.

- Killing Tibbett was a mistake.

- I'm about to make the same one twice.

My department know I'm here.

They'll retaliate.

If you're the best they have,

they'll more likely try

to cover up your incompetence.

Don't count on it, Zorin.

- You amuse me, Mr Bond.

- Well, it's not mutual.

Other side.

Open up.

- Good morning, Comrade Zorin.

- General Gogol.

- This meeting is ill-advised.

- A calculated risk.

But necessary,

as you refuse to answer your control.

Come to the point, General.

You disregard procedure.

You did not request approval

before eliminating 007.

- Reprisals might jeopardise operations.

- You jeopardise mine!

Letting the British penetrate

the Siberian research centre.

That was regrettable.

Your racing activities

attract unnecessary attention,

but more disturbing are your

unauthorised commercial ventures.

We cannot tolerate that.

The issue is irrelevant.

I've made new associations.

I no longer consider myself a KGB agent.

We trained you. Financed you. Huh!

What would you be without us?

A biological experiment. A freak.

Enough of this! Control yourselves!

You will come back to us, Comrade.

No one ever leaves the KGB.

Gentlemen.

For centuries alchemists

tried to make gold from base metals.

Today we make microchips

from silicon, which is common sand.

- But far better than gold, hm?

- (laughter)

For several years we've had

a profitable partnership:

You as manufacturers, while I passed on

to you industrial information

that made you competitive, successful.

We are now in the unique position

to form an international cartel

to control not only production

but distribution of these microchips.

There is one obstacle.

Silicon Valley.

Near San Francisco.

Over 250 plants employing

thousands of scientists, technicians.

This is the heartland of electronic

production in the United States,

which accounts for what -

80% of the world microchip market.

I propose to end

the domination of Silicon Valley

- and leave us in control of that market.

- What is it you propose?

Project Main Strike.

For which, each of you will pay me

one hundred million dollars.

A hundred million dollars?

Plus half our net income?

Under an exclusive

marketing agreement with me.

These are outrageous terms!

Perhaps a demonstration

would convince you.

- I want no part of it, thank you.

- As you wish. Hmph!

The rest of our discussion

must of course be confidential.

- Would you wait outside?

- If you'd like me to, yes. Excuse me.

May Day will provide you with a drink.

This way.

Aaagghhh!

So, does anybody else want to drop out?

(voices on intercom)

Wow!

What a view!

To a kill.

Five dollars.

Thank you.

- Looking for something special?

- Yes. Soft-shell crabs.

Might have some in the back.

I'll be a few minutes.

Chuck Lee, CIA.

It's a pleasure working with 007.

- Thanks. Now what about Zorin?

- He's in town. I can have him tailed.

No, not yet.

Conley is a geologist. Runs Zorin's

oil reclamation project in the East Bay.

Last job:
Chief engineer

in a South African gold mine.

Left in a hurry

after a cave-in killed 20 miners.

Zorin's kind of man!

What about the girl? And the cheque?

You know how many S Suttons

there are in the US?

We watch Zorin's account.

The cheque hasn't been cashed.

- Mortner?

- Got a real winner here.

His real name is Hans Glaub, a German

pioneer in the development of steroids.

That ties in with the horse injections.

In the war he used steroids on pregnant

women in the concentration camps

in an attempt to enhance intelligence.

- With any success?

- Virtually every mother aborted.

A handful of children

were produced with phenomenal IQs.

But there was a side-effect:

They were psychotics.

Why wasn't this Mortner or Glaub

tried by the War Crimes Commission?

The Russians grabbed him.

Set him up in a laboratory.

He spent years developing steroids for

their athletes, then vanished 15 years ago.

About the same time

Zorin came over to the West.

Could Zorin be one of the steroid kids?

He's definitely the right age,

and he's certainly psychotic.

What about his oil operations?

Mr O'Rourke!

Aye!

- Can you spare a minute?

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