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…brown lorry with no owner's name had e into the courtyard through the triple steel gates。 Square cardboard boxes were being unloaded from it and put on to a short conveyor belt that disappeared into the bowels of the Bank。
Colonel Smithers came over。 'Fivers；' he mented。 'Just e up from our printing works at Loughton。'
The lift came and they got in。 Bond said； 'I'm not very impressed by the new ones。 They look like any other country's money。 The old ones were the most beautiful money in the world。'
They walked across the entrance hall； now dimly lit and deserted。 Colonel Smithers said； 'As a matter of fact I agree with you。 Trouble was that those Reichsbank forgeries during the war were a darn sight too good。 When the Russians captured Berlin； among the loot they got hold of the plates。 We asked the Narodni Bank for them； but they refused to give them up。 We and the Treasury decided it was just too dangerous。 At any moment； if Moscow had been inclined； they could have started a major raid on our currency。 We had to withdraw the old fivers。 The new ones aren't much to look at； but at least they'd be hell to forge。'
The night guard let them out on to the steps。 Thread…needle Street was almost deserted。 The long City night was beginning。 Bond said goodbye to Colonel Smithers and walked along to the Tube。 He had never thought very much about the Bank of England； but now that he had been inside the place he decided that the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street might be old but she still had some teeth left in her head。
Bond had been told to report back to M at six。 He did so。 M's face was no longer pink and shining。 The long day had knocked it about； stressed it； shrunken it。 When Bond went in and took the chair across the desk； he noticed the conscious effort M made to clear his mind； cope with the new problem the day was to fling at him。 M straightened himself in his chair and reached for his pipe。 'Well？'
Bond knew the false belligerence of that particular bark。 He told the gist of the story in less than five minutes。
When he had finished； M said thoughtfully； 'Suppose we've got to take it on。 Don't understand a thing about the pound and bank rate and all that but everyone seems to be taking it damned seriously。 Personally I should have thought the strength of the pound depended on how hard we all worked rather than how much gold we'd got。 Germans didn't have much gold after the war。 Look where they've got in ten years。 However； that's probably too easy an answer for the politicians … or more likely too difficult。 Got any ideas how to tackle this chap Goldfinger？ Any way of getting closer to him； offering to do some dirty work for him or something like that？'
Bond said thoughtfully； 'I wouldn't get anywhere sucking up to him； asking him for a job or something of that sort； sir。 I should say he's the sort of man who only respects people who are tougher or smarter than he is。 I've given him one beating and the only message I got from him was that he'd like me to play golf with him。 Perhaps I'd better do just that。'
'Fine way for one of my top men to spend his time。' The sarcasm in Ad's voice was weary； resigned。 'All right。 Go ahead。 But if what you say is right； you'd better see that you beat him。 What's your cover story？'
Bond shrugged。 'I hadn't thought； sir。 Perhaps I'd better be thinking of leaving Universal Export。 No future in it。 Having a holiday while I look round。 Thinking of emigrating to Canada。 Fed up here。 Something like that。 But perhaps I'd better play it the way the cards fall。 I wouldn't think he's an easy man to fool。'
'All right。 Report progress。 And don't think I'm not interested in this case。' M's voice had changed。 So had his expression。 His eyes had bee urgent； manding。 'Now I'll give you one piece of information the Bank didn't give you。 It just happens that I also know what Mr Goldfinger's gold bars look Like。 As a matter of fact I was handling one today … scratched Z and all。 It had e in with that haul we made last week when the Redland Resident Director's office 〃caught fire〃 in Tangier。 You'll have seen the signals。 Well； that's the twentieth of these particular gold bars that have e our way since die war。'
Bond interrupted； 'But that Tangier bar was out of the SMERSH safe。'
'Exactly。 I've checked。 All the other nineteen bars with the scratched Z have been taken from SMERSH operatives。' M paused。 He said mildly； 'D'you know； 007； I wouldn't be at all surprised if Goldfinger doesn't turn out to be the foreign banker； the treasurer so to speak； of SMERSH。'
James Bond flung the DBIII through the last mile of straight and did a racing change down into third and then into second for the short hill before the inevitable traffic crawl through Rochester。 Leashed in by the velvet claw of the front discs； the engine muttered its protest with a mild back…popple from the twin exhausts。 Bond went up into third again； beat the lights at the bottom of the hill and slid resignedly up to the back of the queue that would crawl on for a quarter of an hour … if he was lucky … through the sprawl of Rochester and Chatham。
Bond settled back into second and let the car idle。 He reached for the wide gunmetal case of Morland cigarettes on the neighbouring bucket seat； fumbled for one and lit it from the dashboard。
He had chosen the A2 in preference to the A20 to Sandwich because he wanted to take a quick look at Goldfinger…land … Reculver and those melancholy forsaken reaches of the Thames which Goldfinger had chosen for his parish。 He would then cross the Isle of Thanet to Ramsgate and leave his bag at the Channel Packet； have an early lunch and be off to Sandwich。
The car was from the pool。 Bond had been offered the Aston Martin or a Jaguar 3。4。 He had taken the DBIII。 Either of the cars would have suited his cover … a well…to…do； rather adventurous young man with a taste for the good； the fast things of life。 But the DB III had the advantage of an up…to…date triptyque； an inconspicuous colour … battleship grey …and certain extras which might or might not e in handy。 These included switches to alter the type and colour of Bond's front and rear lights if he was following or being followed at night； reinforced steel bumpers； fore and aft； in case he needed to ram； a long…barrelled Colt 。45 in a trick partment under the driver's seat； a radio pick…up tuned to receive an apparatus called the Homer； and plenty of concealed space that would fox most Customs men。
Bond saw a chance and picked up fifty yards； sliding into a ten…yard gap left by a family saloon of slow reactions。 The man at the wheel； who wore that infallible badge of the bad driver； a hat clamped firmly on the exact centre of his head； hooted angrily。 Bond reached out of the window and raised an enigmatically clenched fist。 The hooting stopped。
And now what about this theory of M's？ It made sense。 The Russians were notoriously inpetent payers of their men。 Their centres were always running out of funds … their men plaining to Moscow that they couldn't afford a square meal。 Perhaps SMERSH couldn't get the valuta out of the Ministry of Home Security。 Or perhaps the Ministry of Home Security couldn't get the money out