The Man with the Golden Gun Page #2

who recently lost two fingers. Please.

- Also lost his trigger.|- It is housed in the butt.

Squeeze it.

The sights are a bit off.

You have five fingers. The butt|is balanced for the pressure of three.

That is why you were one inch too low.

Here you will find only|craftsmanship and quality.

Mass production,

your Walther PPK, for instance,|I leave to others.

What about ammunition?

Designed to individual requirements,|whatever they may be.

In gold... if I wanted?

- I have already done that for a client.|- I know you have.

Francisco Scaramanga.

My relationship with a client, Mr Bond,|is strictly confidential.

Like a doctor. A priest with a penitent.

Oh, of course!

Yet you make guns|for fingerless hoodlums,

bullets for assassins.

Mr Bond, bullets do not kill.|It is the finger that pulls the trigger.

Exactly!

I'm now aiming precisely at your groin.

So speak or for ever hold your peace.

I have never seen him.

On a cost-per-bullet basis,|he must be your best customer.

True, but unfortunately|he only fires them occasionally.

When was the, er... last shipment?

This is impossible. I can't...

You're quite right.

An inch too low.

I have just completed an order|for immediate delivery.

- Who collects them?|- I swear, I do not know.

My instructions are to go to the casino.|I am paid and they vanish.

in Hong Kong harbour,

one of the busiest ports in the world.

passports and landing cards ready,

in order to avoid unnecessary delay.

of the famous liner Queen Elizabeth,

mysterious circumstances in 1971.

and on your right, Hong Kong Island.

Taxi!

Follow that Rolls.

Madam, would you be good enough|to move this inverted bedpan?

Sorry I'm late, James, but your signal|from Macau just reached the office.

You're a great help, Goodnight.

Now, get on to Licence Bureau|and trace that car. AU 603, a green Rolls.

A green Rolls?

A green Rolls-Royce.

There can't be that many in Hong Kong.

Courtesy cars. All green Rolls-Royces|belong to the Peninsula Hotel.

You see what a two-year posting|to Staff Intelligence does for a girl?

James, it's wonderful to see you.

- Where are you going?|- I need some information.

The subject under surveillance|is in room 602.

I'll buy you dinner, but first|I have official business to attend to.

Yes, I saw the "official business".

Goodnight, would I do that to you|after two years?

Yes, you bloody well would!

- Please.|- I can manage.

You could open a door for me, though.

- I open champagne?|- No, it's a surprise.

Oh! A surprise!

Good afternoon.

- A water pistol?|- Pass me that robe.

Turn around.

Do you always take a shower|with a pistol?

Put your hands up and get out of here!

- Keep on walking.|- But you haven't answered my question.

Reception. Can I help you?

This is Miss Anders. Room 602.

Put those down!

I see why these packets carry|a government warning.

Give me that!

They certainly can damage your health.

- Ow! You're hurting my arm.|- Then tell me where those bullets go.

- No, I can't.|- Try!

- He'll kill me!|- Who?

I can't tell you!

Scaramanga.

You see what you can do when you try?

You work for him?

I don't work for him.

He's, um... I'm his...

Oh. So he's a lover too.

Only before he kills.

Bullfighters do the same thing.|Claims it improves the eye.

His eye is on me. Where can I find him?

I don't know.

I don't know.

I said where?!

I don't know!|He doesn't tell me everything.

I know he has a date|at the Bottoms Up Club tonight.

How will I recognise him?

- Tall, slim and dark.|- So is my aunt.

- Anything distinctive about him?|- Yes, but how can I...

He is not like other people. He has three...

Oh.

Fascinating anatomical titbit, but the most|useless piece of information I ever heard.

Unless the Bottoms Up is a strip club|and Scaramanga is performing there.

You'll have to do better.

He usually wears|a white linen suit, black tie,

and jewellery, all gold.

You're improving.

I don't want you to twist my arm again.

I don't want to either.

So I'll tell you what you're going to do.

You're going to take the bullets|to Mr Scaramanga,

because, if he doesn't get them,|he may not show up at the Bottoms Up.

And I want him there.

- Why should you trust me?|- I don't.

But neither will Mr Scaramanga, if he|hears about this interesting conversation.

Who knows? He may even use|one of those little golden bullets on you.

And that would be a pity,

because they're "very" expensive.

I'll take them to him.

Let's drink to that.

Bottoms up!

- Soda or ginger ale?|- Ginger ale, please.

Police! Drop it!

Drop it!

You're under arrest.

Move away from there!

If you take the trouble to examine|that gun, you'll notice it hasn't been fired.

Anything you have to say,|you can say at the station.

I'm charging him under Section 473.

- I didn't see your identity card.|- You will.

Here.

- I thought we were going to the station.|- Kowloon side.

Kowloon's over there!

We're going to the New Territories!

Welcome aboard, Commander Bond.

This way, sir.

Down the hatchway, please.

Good evening, sir.

Would you follow me, please?

It certainly gives you a new slant.

What with the Chinese on one side|and the US fleet on the other,

down here's the only place|in Hong Kong you can't be bugged.

And with current real-estate prices|in Hong Kong, quite practical. Any luck?

A Chinese fighter we salvaged.

Good evening, 007.

Glad to see you're still with us.

In future, Commander Bond, if you must|tour the world of Suzie Wong by night,

- inform our man here. Lieutenant Hip.|- Sorry, Commander.

I had to get you away from the police,|but didn't know how much you knew.

Nothing.

But I should report, sir, that Scaramanga|does not have a contract on me.

He couldn't have missed me tonight.|Instead he hit a chap at a club.

- I got a shock when I saw who it was.|- I should think you did.

Our missing solar-energy expert: Gibson.

Yes. Gibson. He was prepared|to come back under certain conditions.

That's why I'm here|with Professor Frazier.

Lieutenant Hip|was making a preliminary contact.

I almost wish that Scaramanga|had a contract on you.

Was Gibson cooperative?

He wanted to bargain for immunity.|Suggested another meeting in Bangkok.

- Why Bangkok?|- I think he worked there for Hai Fat.

That name's come up before.

A multimillionaire.|Head of Hai Fat Enterprises.

All legitimate, as far as we know.

What did Gibson|propose bargaining with?

A solex. Claimed it was 95% efficient.

If he developed a solar cell that efficient,|he solved the energy crisis.

So you've told me.

Coal and oil will soon be depleted.|Uranium's too dangerous.

Geothermal and tidal control|too expensive. I know all that.

- Where's the solex now?|- Solex "agitator", sir.

"The" essential unit to convert|radiation from the sun into electricity

on an industrial basis. It's only that size.

It won't take long to check out Gibson's|efficiency claim. This is exciting!

May I see it, Lieutenant?

He showed it to me at the bar|and replaced it in his pocket.

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