![]() ![]() Now, about this smuggling.'Ĭolonel Smithers took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. Perhaps they'll find a way of mining gold. They're already mining oil under the sea. Perhaps the position isn't as bad as you think. He said, 'You certainly make a fascinating story of it. Briefly, India is shorter of gold, particularly for her jewellery trade, than any other country.'īond, smothered by this cataract of gold history, found no difficulty in looking as grave as Colonel Smithers. Well, England needs that gold, badly - and the quicker the better.' You know about the currency crisis and the high bank rate? Of course. The Bank can do nothing about it, so we are asking you to bring Mr Gold-finger to book, Mr Bond, and get that gold back. And that gold, or most of it, belongs to England. It needs a microscope to see it, but somewhere, on each Goldfinger bar, a minute letter Z has been scratched in the metal. Oddly enough, like all artists, he couldn't refrain from signing his handiwork. I flew to Nassau and had a look at the five million pounds' worth or so he holds there in the vaults of the Royal Bank of Canada. They're bars that Mr Goldfinger has melted himself. They don't carry any official marks of origin whatsoever. And those bars, Mr Bond, are not Mint bars. In Zurich, in Nassau, in Panama, in New York, he has twenty million pounds' worth of gold bars on safe deposit. 'It took me five years, Mr Bond, to find out that Mr Goldfinger, in ready money, is the richest man in England. He placed both hands palm downwards on the desk and leant forward. Bond glanced surreptitiously at his watch. The rumble of the City came through the half-open window high up in the wall behind his chair. The old ones were the most beautiful money in the world.'Ĭolonel Smithers paused. They look like any other country's money. Bond said, 'I'm not very impressed by the new ones. He was greatly looking forward to hearing about Mr Auric Goldfinger. Now what's your particular problem?' He sat back and lit a cigarette. ![]()
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