Goldfinger allowed himself a half-smile of sympathy. ‘That is excellent news, Miss Galore. And now,’ he turned to face across the table, ‘Mr Springer, might we ask if you have made up your mind?’
Slowly Mr Springer rose to his feet. He gave the controlled yawn of an opera-goer. He followed the yawn with a small belch. He took out a fine linen handkerchief and patted his lips. His glazed eyes moved round the table and finally rested on Goldfinger. Slowly his head moved from side to side as if he was trying to exercise fibrositis in his neck muscles. He said gravely, like a bank manager refusing a loan, ‘Mr Gold, I fear your proposal would not find favour with my colleagues in Detroit.’ He gave a little bow which included everyone. ‘It only remains for me to thank you for a most interesting occasion. Good afternoon, gentlemen and madam.’ In the chilly silence, Mr Springer tucked his handkerchief carefully into the left-hand cuff of his immaculate pin-stripe, turned and walked softly to the door and let himself out.
The door closed with a sharp click. Bond noticed Goldfinger’s hand slip casually below the table. He guessed that Oddjob was getting his signal. Signal for what?
Mr Midnight said nastily, ‘Glad he’s out. He’s strictly a four-ulcer man. Now then –’ he got up briskly and turned to Bond – ‘how about a little drink?’
They all rose and gathered round the buffet. Bond found himself between Miss Pussy Galore and Tilly Masterton. He offered them champagne. Miss Galore looked at him coldly and said, ‘Move over, Handsome. Us girls want to talk secrets. Don’t we, yummy?’ Miss Masterton blushed and then turned very pale. She whispered adoringly, ‘Oh yes please, Miss Galore.’
Bond smiled sourly at Tilly Masterton and moved down the room.
Jed Midnight had witnessed the snub. He got close to Bond and said earnestly, ‘Mister, if that’s your doll, you better watch her. Pussy gets the girls she wants. She consumes them in bunches – like grapes, if you follow me.’ Mr Midnight sighed wearily. ‘Cheesus how they bore me, the lizzies! You’ll see, she’ll soon have that frail parting her hair three ways in front of the mirror.’
Bond said cheerfully, ‘I’ll watch out. There’s nothing much I can do. She’s an independent sort of a girl.’
‘That so?’ said Mr Midnight with a spark of interest. ‘Well mebbe I can help to break it up.’ He straightened his tie. ‘I could go for that Masterton. She’s sure got natural resources. See you around.’ He grinned at Bond and moved off down the room.
Bond was having a quiet square meal off caviar and champagne and thinking how well Goldfinger had handled the meeting when the door at the end of the room opened and one of the Koreans hurried in and went up to Goldfinger. Goldfinger bent his head to the whispered words. His face became grave. He rapped a fork on his glass of Saratoga Vichy.
‘Gentlemen and madam.’ He looked sadly round the group. ‘I have received bad news. Our friend Mr Helmut Springer has met with an accident. He fell down the stairs. Death was instantaneous.’
‘Ho, ho!’ Mr Ring’s laugh was not a laugh. It was a hole in the face. ‘And what does that Slappy Hapgood, his torpedo, have to say about it?’
Goldfinger said gravely, ‘Alas, Mr Hapgood also fell down the stairs and has succumbed to his injuries.’
Mr Solo looked at Goldfinger with new respect. He said softly, ‘Mister, you better get those stairs fixed before me and my friend Giulio come to use them.’
Goldfinger said seriously, ‘The fault has been located. Repairs will be put in hand at once.’ His face grew thoughtful. ‘I fear these accidents may be misconstrued in Detroit.’
Jed Midnight said cheerfully, ‘Don’t give it a thought, mister. They love funerals up there. And it’ll take a load off their minds. Old Hell wouldn’t have lasted much longer. They been stoking the fires under him these twelve months.’ He appealed to Mr Strap who stood next to him. ‘Am I right, Jacko?’
‘Sure, Jed,’ said Mr Strap sagely. ‘You got the score. Mr Helmut M. Springer had to be hit.’
‘Hit’ – mobese for murder. When Bond at last got to bed that night, he couldn’t wipe the word out of his mind. Oddjob had got the signal, a double ring, and Springer and his guard had got hit. There had been nothing Bond could have done about it – even if he had wanted to, and Mr Helmut Springer meant nothing to him, probably richly deserved to be hit anyway – but now some 59,998 other people were going to get hit unless he, and only he, could do something about it.
When the meeting of paramount hoods had broken up to go about their various duties, Goldfinger had dismissed the girl and kept Bond in the room. He told Bond to take notes and then for more than two hours went over the operation down to the smallest detail. When they came to the doping of the two reservoirs (Bond had to work out an exact timetable to ensure that the people of Fort Knox would all be ‘under’ in good time) Bond had asked for details of the drug and its speed of action.
‘You won’t have to worry about that.’
