if.goldfinger-第17部分

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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