if.goldfinger-第29节

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ntact　the　next　station　of　the　Service　and　hand　it　over　to　them。　They　would　get　it　back　to　London　in　the　Embassy　bag。　Bond　would　have　to　report　this　quickly。　It　confirmed　a　lot。　M　might　even　want　to　warn　the　Deuxieme　and　have　the　bridge　watched　to　see　who　came。　But　Bond　hoped　that　would　not　happen。　He　didn't　want　a　scare　started　just　when　he　was　getting　close　to　Goldfinger。　He　wanted　the　skies　over　Gold…finger　to　be　blue　and　clear。
　Bond　got　moving。　Now　there　were　other　things　to　think　about。　He　must　catch　up　with　the　Rolls　before　Macon　and　get　the　next　fork；　to　Geneva　or　Lyons；　right。　He　must　solve　the　problem　of　the　girl　and　if　possible　get　her　off　the　road。　Pretty　or　not；　she　was　confusing　the　issue。　And　he　must　stop　and　buy　himself　something　to　eat　and　drink。　It　was　one　o'clock　and　the　sight　of　Goldfinger　eating　had　made　him　hungry。　And　it　was　time　to　fill　up　and　check　the　water　and　oil。
　The　drone　of　the　Homer　grew　louder。　He　was　in　the　outskirts　of　Macon。　He　must　close　up　and　take　the　risk　of　being　spotted。　The　busy　traffic　would　hide　his　low…slung　car。　It　was　vital　to　know　if　the　Rolls　crossed　the　Saone　for　the　Bourg　road　or　if　it　turned　right　at　the　bridge　and　joined　the　N6　for　Lyons。　Far　down　the　Rue　Rambuteau　there　was　a　glimpse　of　yellow。　Over　the　railway　bridge　and　through　the　little　square。　The　high　yellow　box　kept　on　towards　the　river。　Bond　watched　the　passers…by　turn　their　heads　to　follow　the　gleaming　Rolls。　The　river。　Would　Goldfinger　turn　right　or　keep　on　across　the　bridge？　The　Rolls　kept　straight　on。　So　it　was　Switzerland！　Bond　followed　over　into　the　suburb　of　St　Laurent。　Now　for　a　butcher　and　a　baker　and　a　wine　shop。　A　hundred　yards　ahead　the　golden　head　of　a　calf　hung　over　the　pavement。　Bond　glanced　in　his　driving　mirror。　Well；　well！　The　little　Triumph　was　only　feet　away　from　his　tail。　How　long　had　she　been　there？　Bond　had　been　so　intent　on　following　the　Rolls　that　he　hadn't　glanced　back　since　entering　the　town。　She　must　have　been　hiding　up　a　^ide　street。　So！　Now　coincidence　was　certainly　out。　Something　must　be　done。　Sorry；　sweetheart。　I've　got　to　mess　you　up。　I'll　be　as　gentle　as　I　can。　Hold　tight。　Bond　stopped　abruptly　in　front　of　the　butcher's　shop。　He　banged　the　gears　into　reverse。　There　was　a　sickening　scrunch　and　tinkle。　Bond　switched　off　his　engine　and　got　out。
　He　walked　round　to　the　back　of　the　car。　The　girl；　her　face　tense　with　anger；　had　one　beautiful　silken　leg　on　the　road。　There　was　an　indiscreet　glimpse'　of　white　thigh。　The　girl　stripped　off　her　goggles　and　stood；　legs　braced　and　arms　akimbo。　The　beautiful　mouth　was　taut　with　anger。
　The　Aston　Martin's　rear　bumper　was　locked　into　the　wreckage　of　the　Triumph's　lamps　and　radiator　grille。　Bond　said　amiably；　'If　you　touch　me　there　again　you'll　have　to　marry　me。'
　The　words　were　hardly　out　of　his　mouth　before　the　open　palm　cracked　across　his　face。　Bond　put　up　a　hand　and　rubbed　his　cheek。　Now　there　was　quite　a　crowd。　There　was　a　murmur　of　approval　and　ribaldry。　'Allez　y　la　gosse！　Main…tenant　le　knock…out！'
　The　girl's　rage　had　not　dissipated　with　the　blow。　'You　bloody　fool！　What　the　hell　do　you　think　you're　doing？'
　Bond　thought：　If　only　pretty　girls　were　always　angry　they　would　be　beautiful。　He　said；　'Your　brakes　can't　be　up　to　much。'
　'My　brakes！　What　the　hell　do　you　mean？　You　reversed　into　me。'
　'Gears　slipped。　I　didn't　know　you　were　so　close。'　It　was　time　to　calm　her　down。　'I'm　most　frightfully　sorry。　I'll　pay　for　all　the　repairs　and　everything。　It　really　is　bad　luck。　Let's　see　what　the　damage　is。　Try　and　back　away。　Doesn't　look　as　if　our　bumpers　have　over…ridden。'　Bond　put　a　foot　on　the　Triumph's　bumpers　and　rocked。
　'Don't　you　dare　touch　my　car！　Leave　it　alone。'　Angrily　the　girl　climbed　back　into　the　driver's　seat。　She　pressed　the　self…starter。　The　engine　fired。　Metal　clanged　under　the　bonnet。　She　switched　off　and　leant　out。　'There　you　are；　you　idiot！　You've　smashed　the　fan。'
　Bond　had　hoped　he　had。　He　got　into　his　own　car　and　eased　it　away　from　the　Triumph。　Bits　of　the　Triumph；　released　by　Bond's　bumper；　tinkled　on　to　the　road。　He　got　out　again。　The　crowd　had　thinned。　There　was　a　man　in　a　mechanic's　overalls。　He　volunteered　to　call　a　breakdown　van　and　went　off　to　do　so。　Bond　walked　over　to　the　Triumph。　The　girl　had　got　out　and　was　waiting　for　him。　Her　expression　had　changed。　Now　she　was　more　posed。　Bond　noticed　that　her　eyes；　which　were　dark　blue；　watched　his　face　carefully。
　Bond　said；　'It　really　won't　be　too　bad。　Probably　knocked　the　fan　out　of　alignment。　They'll　put　temporary　headlamps　in　the　sockets　and　straighten　up　the　chrome。　You'll　be　off　again　by　tomorrow　morning。　Now；'　Bond　reached　into　his　pocket　for　his　notecase；'this　is　maddening　for　you　and　I'll　certainly　take　all　the　blame。　Here's　a　hundred　thousand　francs　to　cover　the　damage　and　your　expenses　for　the　night　and　telephoning　your　friends　and　so　on。　Please　take　it　and　call　it　quits。　I'd　love　to　stay　here　and　see　you　get　on　the　road　all　right　tomorrow　morning。　But　I've　got　an　appointment　this　evening　and　I've　simply　got　to　make　it。'
　'No。'　The　one　word　was　cool；　definite。　The　girl　put　her　hands　behind　her　back　and　waited。
　'But。。。'　What　was　it　she　wanted；　the　police？　Have　him　charged　with　dangerous　driving？
　'I've　got　an　appointment　this　evening　too。　I've　got　to　make　it。　I've　got　to　get　to　Geneva。　Will　you　please　take　me　there？　It's　not　far。　Only　about　a　hundred　miles。　We　could　do　it　in　two　hours　in　that。'　She　gestured　at　the　DB　III。　'Will　you？　Please？'
　There　was　a　desperate　urgency　in　the　voice。　No　cajolery；　no　threats；　only　a　blazing　need。
　For　the　first　time　Bond　examined　her　as　more　than　a　pretty　girl　who　perhaps　…　they　were　the　only　explanations　Bond　had　found　to　fit　the　facts　…　wanted　to　be　picked　up　by　Goldfinger　or　had　a　blackmail　on　him。　But　she　didn't　look　capable　of　either　of　these　things。　There　was　too　much　character　in　the　face；　too　much　candour。　And　she　wasn't　wearing　the　uniform　of　a　seductress。　She　wore　a　white；　rather　masculine　cut；　heavy　silk　shirt。　It　was　open　at　the　neck；　but　it　would　button　up　to　a　narrow　military　collar。　The　shirt　had　long　wide　sleeves　gathered　at　the　wrists。　The　girl's　nails　were　unpainted　and　her　only　piece　of　jewellery　was　a　gold　ring　on　her　engagement　finger　（true　or　false？）。　She　wore　a　very　wide　black　stitched　leather　belt　with　double　brass　buckles。　It　rose　at　the　back　to　give　some　of　the　support　of　a　racing　driver's　corset　belt。　Her　short　skirt　was　charcoal…grey　and　pleated。　Her　shoes　were　expensive…looking　black　sandals　which　would　be　fortable　and　cool　for　driving。　The　only　touch　of　colour　was　the　pink　handkerchief　which　she　had　taken　off　her　head　and　now　held　by　her　side　with　the　white　goggles。　It　all　looked　very　attractive。　But　the　get…up　reminded　Bond　more　of　an　equipment　than　a　young　girl's　dress。　There　was　something　faintly　mannish　and　open…air　about　the　whole　of　her　behaviour　and　appearance。　She　might；　thought　Bond；　be　a　member　of　the　English　women's　ski　team；　or　spend　a　lot　of　her　time　in　England　hunting　or　show…jumping。
　Although　she　was　a　very　beautiful　girl　she　was　the　kind　who　leaves　her　beauty　alone。　She　had　made　no　attempt　to　pat　her　hair　into　place。　As　a　result；　it　looked　as　a　girl's　hair　should　look　…　untidy；　with　bits　that　strayed　and　a　rather　crooked　parting。　It　provided　the　contrast　of　an　uneven；　jagged　dark　frame　for　the　pale　symmetry　of　the　face；　the　main　features　of　which　were　blue　eyes　under　dark　brows；　a　desirable　mouth；　and　an　air　of　determination　and　independence　that　came　from　the　high　cheek…bones　and　the　fine　line　of　the　jaw。　There　was　the　same　air　of　self…reliance　in　her　figure。　She　held　her　body　proudly　…　her　fine　breasts　out…thrown　and　unashamed　under　the　taut　silk。　Her　stance；　with　feet　slightly　parted　and　hands　behind　her　back；　was　a　mixture　of　provocation　and　challenge。
　The　whole　picture　seemed　to　say；　'Now　then；　you　handsome　bastard；　don't　think　you　can　〃little　woman〃　me。　You've　got　me　into　this　mess　and；　by　God；　you're　going　to　get　me　out！　You　may　be　attractive；　but　I've　got　my　life　to　run；　and　I　know　where　I'm　going。'
　Bond　weighed　her　request。　How　much　of　a　nuisance　would　she　be？　How　soon　could　he　get　rid　of　her　and　get　on　with　his　business？　Was　there　any　security　risk？　Against　the　disadvantages；　there　was　his　curiosity　about　her　and　what　she　was　up　to；　the　memory　of　the　fable　he　had　spun　round　her　and　which　had　now　taken　its　first　step　towards　realization；　and；　finally；　the　damsel…in…distress　business　…　any　woman's　appeal　for　help。
　Bond　said　curtly；　'I'll　be　glad　to　take　you　to　Geneva。　Now　then；'　he　opened　up　the　back　of　the　Aston　Martin；　'let's　get　your　things　in。　While　I　fix　up　about　the　garage　here's　some　money。　Please　buy　us　lunch　…　anything　you　like　for　yourself。　For　me；　six　inches　of　Lyon　sausage；　a　loaf　of　bread；　butter；　and　half　a　litre　of　Macon　with　the　cork　pulled。'
　Their　eyes　met　and　exchanged　a　flurry　of　masculine/feminine　master/slave　signals。　The　girl　took　the　money。　'Thank　you。　I'll　get　the　same　things　for　myself。'　She　went　to　the　boot　of　the　Triumph　and　unlocked　it。　'No；　don't　bother。　I　can　manage　these。'　She　hauled　out　a　bag　of　golf　clubs　with　a　cover　zipped　shut　and　a　small；　expensive　looking　suitcase。　She　brought　them　over　to　the　Aston　Martin　and