if.goldfinger-第22部分

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　nowhere　the　shadow　of　Goldfinger's　huge　head　approached　the　ball　on　the　ground；　engulfed　it　and　moved　on。　Bond　let　his　swing　take　itself　to　pieces　in　sections。　Then　he　stood　away　from　his　ball　and　looked　up。　Goldfinger's　feet　were　still　moving。　He　was　looking　carefully　up　at　the　sky。
　'Shades　please；　Goldfinger。'　Bond's　voice　was　furiously　controlled。
　Goldfinger　stopped　and　looked　slowly　at　Bond。　The　eyebrows　were　raised　a　fraction　in　inquiry。　He　moved　back　and　stood　still；　saying　nothing。
　Bond　went　back　to　his　ball。　Now　then；　relax！　To　hell　with　Goldfinger。　Slam　that　ball　on　to　the　green。　Just　stand　still　and　hit　it。　There　was　a　moment　when　the　world　stood　still；　then。。。　then　somehow　Bond　did　hit　it　…　on　a　low　trajectory　that　mounted　gracefully　to　carry　the　distant　surf　of　the　bunkers。　The　ball　hit　the　bank　below　the　green；　bounced　high　with　the　impact　and　rolled　out　of　sight　into　the　saucer　round　the　pin。
　Hawker　came　up　and　took　the　driver　out　of　Bond's　hand。　They　walked　on　together。　Hawker　said　seriously；　'That's　one　of　the　finest　shots　I've　seen　in　thirty　years。'　He　lowered　his　voice。　'I　thought　he'd　fixed　you　then；　sir。'
　'He　damned　nearly　did；　Hawker。　It　was　Alfred　Blacking　that　hit　that　ball；　not　me。〃　Bond　took　out　his　cigarettes；　gave　one　to　Hawker　and　lit　his　own。　He　said　quietly；　'All　square　and　three　to　play。　We've　got　to　watch　those　next　three　holes。　Know　what　I　mean？'
　'Don't　you　worry；　sir。　I'll　keep　my　eye　on　him。'
　They　came　up　with　the　green。　Goldfinger　had　pitched　on　and　had　a　long　putt　for　a　four；　but　Bond's　ball　was　only　two　inches　away　from　the　hole。　Goldfinger　picked　up　his　ball　and　walked　off　the　green。　They　halved　the　short　sixteenth　in　good　threes。　Now　there　were　the　two　long　holes　home。　Fours　would　win　them。　Bond　hit　a　fine　drive　down　the　centre。　Goldfinger　pushed　his　far　out　to　the　right　into　deep　rough。　Bond　walked　along　trying　not　to　be　too　jubilant；　trying　not　to　count　his　chickens。　A　win　for　him　at　this　hole　and　he　would　only　need　a　half　at　the　eighteenth　for　the　match。　He　prayed　that　Goldfinger's　ball　would　be　unplayable　or；　better　still；　lost
　Hawker　had　gone　on　ahead。　He　had　already　laid　down　his　bag　and　was　busily　…　far　tod　busily　to　Bond's　way　of　thinking　…　searching　for　Goldfinger's　ball　when　they　came　up。
　It　was　bad　stuff　…　jungle　country；　deep　thick　luxuriant　grass　whose　roots　still　held　last　night's　dew。　Unless　they　were　very　lucky；　they　couldn't　hope　to　find　the　ball。　After　a　few　minutes'　search　Goldfinger　and　his　caddie　drifted　away　still　wider　to　where　the　rough　thinned　out　into　isolated　tufts。　That's　good；　thought　Bond。　That　wasn't　anything　like　the　line。　Suddenly　he　trod　on　something。　Hell　and　damnation。　Should　he　stamp　it　in？　He　shrugged　his　shoulders；　bent　down　and　gently　uncovered　the　ball　so　as　not　to　improve　the　lie。　Yes　it　was　a　Dunlop　65。　'Here　you　are；'　he　called　grudgingly。　'Oh　no；　sorry。　You　play　with　a　Number　One；　don't　you？'
　'Yes；'　came　back　Goldfinger's　voice　impatiently。
　'Well；　this　is　a　Number　Seven。'　Bond　picked　h　up　and　walked　over　to　Goldfinger。
　Goldfinger　gave　the　ball　a　cursory　glance。　He　said；　'Not　mine；'　and　went　on　poking　among　the　tufts　with　the　head　of　his　driver。
　It　was　a　good　ball；　unmarked　and　almost　new。　Bond　put　it　in　his　pocket　and　went　back　to　his　search。　He　glanced　at　his　watch。　The　statutory　five　minutes　was　almost　up。　Another　half…minute　and　by　God　he　was　going　to　claim　the　hole。　Strict　rules　of　golf；　Goldfinger　had　stipulated。　All　right　my　friend；　you　shall　have　them！
　Goldfinger　was　casting　back　towards　Bond；　diligently　prodding　and　shuffling　through　the　grass。
　Bond　said；　'Nearly　time；　I'm　afraid。'
　Goldfinger　grunted。　He　started　to　say　something　when　there　came　a　cry　from　his　caddie；　'Here　you　are；　sir。　Number　One　Dunlop。'
　Bond　followed　Goldfinger　over　to　where　the　caddie　stood　on　a　small　plateau　of　higher　ground。　He　was　pointing　down。　Bond　bent　and　inspected　the　ball。　Yes；　an　almost　new　Dun…lop　One　and　in　an　astonishingly　good　lie。　It　was　miraculous　…more　than　miraculous。　Bond　stared　hard　from　Goldfinger　to　his　caddie。　'Must　have　had　the　hell　of　a　lucky　kick；'　he　said　mildly。
　The　caddie　shrugged　his　shoulders。　Goldfinger's　eyes　were　calm；　untroubled。　'So　it　would　seem。'　He　turned　to　his　caddie。　'I　think　we　can　get　a　spoon　to　that　one；　Foulks。'
　Bond　walked　thoughtfully　away　and　then　turned　to　watch　the　shot。　It　was　one　of　Goldfinger's　best。　It　soared　over　a　far　shoulder　of　rough　towards　the　green。　Might　just　have　caught　the　bunker　on　the　right。
　Bond　walked　on　to　where　Hawker；　a　long　blade　of　grass　dangling　from　his　wry　lips；　was　standing　on　the　fairway　watching　the　shot　finish。　Bond　smiled　bitterly　at　him。　He　said　in　a　controlled　voice；　'Is　my　good　friend　in　the　bunker；　or　is　the　bastard　on　the　green？'
　'Green；　sir；'　said　Hawker　unemotionally。
　Bond　went　up　to　his　ball。　Now　things　had　got　tough　again。　Once　more　he　was　fighting　for　a　half　after　having　a　certain　win　in　his　pocket。　He　glanced　towards　the　pin；　gauging　the　distance。　This　was　a　tricky　one。　He　said。　'Five　or　six？'
　'The　six　should　do　it；　sir。　Nice　firm　shot。'　Hawker　handed　him　the　club。
　Now　then；　clear　your　mind。　Keep　it　slow　and　deliberate。　It's　an　easy　shot。　Just　punch　it　so　that　it's　got　plenty　of　zip　to　get　up　the　bank　and　on　to　the　green。　Stand　still　and　head　down。　Click！　The　ball；　hit　with　a　slightly　closed　face；　went　off　on　just　the　medium　trajectory　Bond　had　wanted。　It　pitched　below　the　bank。　It　was　perfect！　No；　damn　it。　It　had　hit　the　bank　with　its　second　bounce；　stopped　dead；　hesitated　and　then　rolled　back　and　down　again。　Hell's　bells！　Was　it　Hagen　who　had　said；　'You　drive　for　show；　but　you　putt　for　dough'？　Getting　dead　from　below　that　bank　was　one　of　the　most　difficult　putts　on　the　course。　Bond　reached　for　his　cigarettes　and　lit　one；　already　preparing　his　mind　for　the　next　crucial　shot　to　save　the　hole　…　so　long　as　that　bastard　Gold…finger　didn't　hole　his　from　thirty　feet！
　Hawker　walked　along　by　his　side。　Bond　said；　'Miracle　finding　that　ball。'
　'It　wasn't　his　ball；　sir。'　Hawker　was　stating　a　fact。
　'What　do　you　mean？'　Bond's　voice　was　tense。
　'Money　passed；　sir。　White；　probably　a　fiver。　Foulks　must　have　dropped　that　ball　down　his　trouser　leg。'
　'Hawker！'　Bond　stopped　in　his　tracks。　He　looked　round。　Goldfinger　and　his　caddie　were　fifty　yards　away；　walking　slowly　towards　the　green。　Bond　said　fiercely；　'Do　you　swear　to　that？　How　can　you　be　sure？'
　Hawker　gave　a　half…ashamed；　lop…sided　grin。　But　there　was　a　crafty　belligerence　in　his　eye。　'Because　his　ball　was　lying　under　my　bag　of　clubs；　sir。'　When　he　saw　Bond's　open…mouthed　expression　he　added　apologetically；　'Sorry；　sir。　Had　to　do　it　after　what　he's　been　doing　to　you。　Wouldn't　have　mentioned　it；　but　I　had　to　let　you　know　he's　fixed　you　again。'
　Bond　had　to　laugh。　He　said　admiringly；　〃Well；　you　are　a　card；　Hawker。　So　you　were　going　to　win　the　match　for　me　all　on　your　own！'　He　added　bitterly；　'But；　by　God；　that　man's　the　flaming　limit。　I've　got　to　get　him。　I've　simply　got　to。　Now　let's　think！'　They　walked　slowly　on。
　Bond's　left　hand　was　in　his　trousers　pocket；　absent…mindedly　fingering　the　ball　he　had　picked　up　in　the　rough。　Suddenly　the　message　went　to　his　brain。　Got　it！　He　came　close　to　Hawker。　He　glanced　across　at　the　others。　Goldfinger　had　stopped。　His　back　was　to　Bond　and　he　was　taking　the　putter　out　of　his　bag。　Bond　nudged　Hawker。　'Here；　take　this。'　He　slipped　the　ball　into　the　gnarled　hand。　Bond　said　softly；　urgently；　'Be　certain　you　take　the　flag。　When　you　pick　up　the　balls　from　the　green；　whichever　way　the　hole　has　gone；　give　Goldfinger　this　one。　Right？'
　Hawker　walked　stolidly　forward。　His　face　was　expressionless。　'Got　it；　sir；'　he　said　in　his　normal　voice。　'Will　you　take　the　putter　for　this　one？'
　'Yes。'　Bond　walked　up　to　his　ball。　'Give　me　a　line；　would　you？'
　Hawker　walked　up　on　to　the　green。　He　stood　sideways　to　the　line　of　the　putt　and　then　stalked　round　to　behind　the　flag　and　crouched。　He　got　up。　'Inch　outside　the　right　lip；　sir。　Firm　putt。　Flag；　sir？'
　'No。　Leave　it　in；　would　you。'
　Hawker　stood　away。　Goldfinger　was　standing　by　his　ball　on　the　right　of　the　green。　His　caddie　had　stopped　at　the　bottom　of　the　slope。　Bond　bent　to　th