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being riveted on in Kent； and the whole lot being stripped off at Coppet。 Those sheets would already be in the furnaces at Coppet； ready to be modelled into seventy chairs for a Mecca Constellation。 In a few days' time those chairs would be stripped off the plane in India and replaced with aluminium ones。 And Goldfinger would have made what？ Half a million pounds？ A million？
For the Silver Ghost wasn't silver at all。 It was a Golden Ghost … all the two tons of its bodywork。 Solid； eighteen…carat； white gold。
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THINGS THAT GO THUMP IN THE NIGHT
JAMES BOND booked in at the Hotel des Bergues； took a bath and shower and changed his clothes。 He weighed the Walther PPK in his hand and wondered whether he should take it or leave it behind。 He decided to leave it。 He had no intention of being seen when he went back to the Entreprises Auric。 If； by dreadful luck； he was seen； it would spoil everything to get into a fight。 He had his story； a poor one； but at least one that would not break his cover。 He would have to rely on that。 But Bond did choose a particular pair of shoes that were rather heavier than one could expect from their casual build。
At the desk he asked if Miss Soames was in。 He was not surprised when the receptionist said they had no Miss Soames staying in the hotel。 The only question was whether she had left the hotel when Bond was out of sight or had registered under another name。
Bond motored across the beautiful Pont du Mont Blanc and along the brightly lit quai to the Bavaria； a modest Alsatian brasserie that had been the rendezvous of the great in the days of the League of Nations。 He sat by the window and drank Enzian washed down with pale Lowenbrau。 He thought first about Goldfinger。 There was now no doubt what he was up to。 He financed a spy network； probably SMERSH； and he made fortunes smuggling gold to India； the country where he could get the biggest premium。 After the loss of his Brixham trawler； he had thought out this new way。 He first made it known that he had an armoured car。 That would only be considered eccentric。 Many English bodybuilders exported them。 They used to go to Indian rajahs； now they went to oil sheiks and South American presidents。 Goldfinger had chosen a Silver Ghost because； with his modifications； the chassis was strong enough； the riveting was already a feature of the bodywork； and there was the largest possible area of metal sheeting。 Perhaps Gold…finger had run it abroad once or twice to get Ferryfield used to it。 Then； on the next trip； he took off the armour plating in his works at Reculver。 He substituted eighteen…carat white gold。 Its alloy of nickel and silver would be strong enough。 The colour of the metal would not betray him if he got in a smash or if the bodywork were scratched。 Then off to Switzerland and to the little factory。 The workmen would have been as carefully picked as the ones at Reculver。 They would take off the plates and mould them into aircraft seats which would then be upholstered and installed in Mecca Airlines … run presumably by some stooge of Goldfinger's who got a cut on each 'gold run'。 On these runs …once； twice； three times a year？ … the plane would accept only light freight and a few passengers。 At Bombay or Calcutta the plane would need an overhaul； be re…equipped。 It would go to the Mecca hangar and have new seats fitted。 The old ones； the gold ones； would go to the bullion brokers。 Goldfinger would get his sterling credit in Nassau or wherever he chose。 He would have made his hundred； or two hundred； per cent profit and could start the cycle all over again； from the 'We Buy Old Gold' shops in Britain to Reculver … Geneva …Bombay。
Yes； thought Bond； gazing out across the glistening； starlit lake； that's how it would be … a top…notch smuggling circuit with a minimum risk and maximum profit。 How Goldfinger must smile as he pressed the bulb of the old boa…constrictor horn and swept past the admiring policemen of three countries！ He certainly seemed to have the answer … the philosopher's stone； the finger of gold！ If he hadn't been such an unpleasant man； if he wasn't doing all this to sustain the trigger finger of SMERSH； Bond would have felt admiration for this monumental trickster whose operations were so big that they worried even the Bank of England。 As it was； Bond only wanted to destroy Goldnnger； seize his gold； get him behind bars。 Goldfinger's gold…lust was too strong； too ruthless； too dangerous to be allowed the run of the world。
It was eight o'clock。 The Enzian； the firewater distilled from gentian that is responsible for Switzerland's chronic alcoholism； was beginning to warm Bond's stomach and melt his tensions。 He ordered another double and with it a chouc…route and a carafe of Fondant。
And what about the girl； this pretty； authoritarian joker that had suddenly been faced in the deal？ What in hell was she about？ What about this golf story？ Bond got up and went to the telephone booth at the back of the room。 He got on to the Journal de Geneve and through to the sports editor。 The man was helpful； but surprised at Bond's question。 No。 The various championships were of course played in the summer when the other national programmes were finished and it was possible to lure a good foreign entry to Switzerland。 It was the same with all other European countries。 They liked to bring in as many British and American players as possible。 It increased the gates。 'Pas de quoi； monsieur。'
Bond went back to his table and ate his dinner。 So much for that。 Whoever she was； she was an amateur。 No professional would use a cover that could be broken down by one telephone call。 It had been in the back of Bond's mind …reluctantly； because he liked the girl and was excited by her … that she could； she just could have been an agent of SMERSH sent to keep an eye on Goldfinger； or Bond or both。 She had some of the qualities of a secret agent； the independence； the strength of character； the ability to walk alone。 But that idea was out。 She hadn't got the training。
Bond ordered a slice of gruyere； pumpernickel and coffee。 No； she was an enigma。 Bond only prayed that she hadn't got some private plot involving either him or Goldfinger that was going to mess up his own operation。
And his own job was so nearly finished！ All he needed was the evidence of his own eyes that the story he had woven round Goldfinger and the Rolls was the truth。 One look into the works at Coppet … one grain of white gold dust … and he could be off to Berne that very night and be on to the duty officer over the Embassy scrambler。 Then； quietly； discreetly； the Bank of England would freeze Goldfinger's accounts all over the world and perhaps； already tomorrow； the Special Branch of the Swiss police would be knocking on the door of Entreprises Auric。 Extradition would follow； Goldfinger would go to Brixton； there would be a quiet； rather plicated case in one of the smuggling courts like Maidstone or Lewes。 Goldfinger would get a few years； his naturalization would be revoked and his gold hoard； illegally exported； would trickle back into the vaults below the Bank of England。 And SMERSH would gnash its blood…stained teeth and add ano