if.goldfinger-第17章
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king had always wanted to take him in hand。 'A bit of practice; Mr James; and you'd be scratch。 No fooling。 You really would。 What do you want to hang around at six for? It's all there except for that flat swing and wanting to hit the ball out of sight when there's no point in it。 And you've got the temperament。 A couple of years; perhaps only one; and I'd have you in the Amateur。' But something had told Bond that there wasn't going to be a great deal of golf in his life and if he liked the game he'd better forget about lessons and just play as much of it as he could。 Yes; it would be about twenty years since he had played his last round on St Marks。 He'd never been back …even when there had been that bloody affair of the Moon…raker at Kingsdown; ten miles down the coast。 Perhaps it had been sentimentality。 Since St Marks; Bond had got in a good deal of weekend golf when he was at headquarters。 But always on the courses round London … Hunterbe; Swinley; Sunningdale; the Berkshire。 Bond's handicap had gone up to nine。 But he was a real nine … had to be with the games he chose to play; the ten…pound Nassaus with the tough cheery men who were always so anxious to stand you a couple of double kümmels after lunch。
'Any chance of a game; Alfred?'
The professional glanced through his back window at the parking space round the tall flag…pole。 He shook his head。 'Doesn't look too good; sir。 Don't get many players in the middle of the week at this time of year。'
'What about you?'
'Sorry; sir。 I'm booked。 Playing with a member。 It's a regular thing。 Every day at two o'clock。 And the trouble is that Cecil's gone over to Princes to get in some practice for the championship。 What a dashed nuisance!' (Alfred never used a stronger oath。) 'It would happen like that。 How long are you staying; sir?'
'Not long。 Never mind。 I'll knock a ball round with a caddie。 Who's this chap you're playing with?'
'A Mr Goldfinger; sir。' Alfred looked discouraging。
'Oh; Goldfinger。 I know the chap。 Met him the other day in America。'
'You did; sir?' Alfred obviously found it difficult to believe that anyone knew Mr Goldfinger。 He watched Bond's face carefully for any further reaction。
'Any good?'
'So…so; sir。 Pretty useful off nine。'
'Must take his game damned seriously if he plays with you every day。'
'Well; yes; sir。' The professional's face had the expression Bond remembered so well。 It meant that Blacking had an unfavourable view of a particular member but that he was too good a servant of the club to pass it on。
Bond smiled。 He said; 'You haven't changed; Alfred。 What you mean is that no one else will play widi him。 Remember Farquharson? Slowest player in England。 I remember you going round and round with him twenty years ago。 e on。 What's the matter with Goldfinger?'
The professional laughed。 He said; 'It's you that hasn't changed; Mr James。 You always were dashed inquisitive。' He came a step closer and lowered his voice。 'The truth is; sir; some members think Mr Goldfinger is just a little bit hot。 You know; sir。 Improves his lie and so forth。' The professional took the driver he was holding; took up a stance; gazed towards an imaginary hole and banged the head of the club up and down on the floor as if addressing an imaginary ball。 'Let me see now; is this a brassie lie? What d'you think caddie?' Alfred Blacking chuckled。 〃Well; of course; by the time he's finished hammering the ground behind the ball; the ball's been raised an inch and it is a brassie lie。' Alfred Blacking's face closed up again。 He said non…mittally; 'But that's only gossip; sir。 I've never seen anything。 Quiet…spoken gentleman。 He's got a place at Reculver。 Used to e here a lot。 But for the last few years he's only been ing to England for a few weeks at a time。 Rings up and asks if anyone's wanting a game and when there isn't anyone he books Cecil or me。 Rang up this morning and asked if there was anyone about。 There's sometimes a stranger drops in。' Alfred Blacking looked quizzically at Bond。 'I suppose you wouldn't care to take him on this afternoon? It'll look odd you being here and short of a game。 And you knowing him and all。 He might think I'd been trying to keep him to myself or something。 That wouldn't do。'
'Nonsense; Alfred。 And you've got your living to make。 Why don't we play a three…ball?'
'He won't play them; sir。 Says they're too slow。 And I agree with him。 And don't you worry about my fee。 There's a lot of work to do in the shop and 1'U be glad of an afternoon to get down to it。' Alfred Blacking glanced at his watch。 'He'll be along any minute now。 I've got a caddie for you。 Remember Hawker?' Alfred Blacking laughed indulgently。 'Still the same old Hawker。 He'll be another that'll be glad to see you down here again。'
Bond said; 'Well thanks; Alfred。 I'd be interested to see how this chap plays。 But why not leave it like this? Say I've dropped in to get a dub made up。 Old member。 Used to play here before the war。 And I need a new number four wood anyway。 Your old one has started to give at the seams a bit。 Just be casual。 Don't say you've told me he's about。 I'll stay in the shop so it'll give him a chance to take his choice without offending me。 Perhaps he won't like my face or something。 Right?'
'Very good; Mr James。 Leave it to me。 That's his car ing now; sir。' Blacking pointed through the window。 Half a mile away; a bright yellow car was turning off the road and ing up the private drive。 'Funny looking contraption。 Sort of motor car we used to see here when I was a boy。'
Bond watched the old Silver Ghost sweep majestically up the drive towards the club。 She was a beauty! The sun glittered off the silver radiator and off the engine…turned aluminium shield below the high perpendicular glass cliff of the windscreen。 The luggage rail on the roof of the heavy coach…built limousine body … so ugly twenty years ago; so strangely beautiful today … was polished brass; as were the two Lucas 'King of the Road' headlamps that stared so haughtily down the road ahead; and the wide mouth of the old boa…constrictor bulb horn。 The whole car; except for a black roof and black carrosserie lines and curved panels below the windows; was primrose yellow。 It crossed Bond's mind that the South
American president might have had it copied from the famous yellow fleet in which Lord Lonsdale had driven to the Derby and Ascot。
And now? In the driver's seat sat a figure in a cafe…au…lait dust coat and cap; his big round face obscured by black…rimmed driving goggles。 Beside him was a squat figure in black with a bowler hat placed firmly on the middle of his head。 The two figures stared straight in front of them with a curious immobility。 It was almost as if they were driving a hearse。
The car was ing closer。 The six pairs of eyes … the eyes of the two men and the great twin orbs of the car …seemed to be looking straight through the little window and into Bond's eyes。
Instinctively; Bond took a few paces back into the dark recesses of the workroom。 He noticed the movement and smiled to himself。 He picked up somebody's putter and bent down and thoughtfully addressed a knot in the wooden floor。
PART TWO: COINCIDENCE
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALL TO PLAY FOR
'GOOD AFTERNOON; Blacking。 All set?' The voice was casual; authoritative。 'I see there's a car outside。 Not somebody looking for a game; I suppose?'
'I'm not sure; sir。 It's an old member e back to have a club made up。 Would you like me to ask him; sir?'
'Who is it? What's his name?'
Bond smiled grimly。 He pricked his ears。 He wanted to catch every inflection。
'A Mr Bond; sir。'
There was a pause。 'Bond?' The voice had not changed。 It was politely interested。 'Met a fellow called Bond the other day。 What's his first name?'
'James; sir。'
'Oh yes。' Now the pause was longer。 'Does he know I'm here?' Bond could sense Goldfinger's antennae probing the situation。
'He's in the workshop; sir。 May have seen your car drive up。' Bond thought: Alfred's never told a lie in his life。 He's not going to start now。
'Might be an idea。' Now Goldfinger's voice unbent。 He wanted something from Alfred Blacking; some information。 'What sort of a game does this chap play