if.goldfinger-第32部分

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　The　little　convoy　kept　on；　still　following　the　wide　black　sheen　of　N7　that　runs　like　a　thick；　dangerous　nerve　down　through　the　heart　of　France。　But　at　Moulins　Bond　nearly　lost　the　scent。　He　had　to　double　back　quickly　and　get　on　to　N73。　Goldfinger　had　turned　at　right　angles　and　was　now　making　for　Lyons　and　Italy；　or　for　Macon　and　Geneva。　Bond　had　to　do　some　fast　motoring；　and　then　was　only　just　in　time　to　avoid　running　into　trouble。　He　had　not　worried　much　about　the　pitch　of　the　Homer。　He　had　counted　on　a　sight　of　the　Triumph　to　slow　him　down。　Suddenly　he　realized　that　the　drone　was　being　a　howl。　If　he　hadn't　braked　hard　down　from　the　ninety　he　was　doing；　he　would　have　been　on　top　of。　the　Rolls。　As　it　was；　he　was　barely　creeping　along　when　he　came　over　a　rise　and　saw　the　big　yellow　car　stopped　by　the　wayside　a　mile　ahead。　There　was　a　blessed　cart…track。　Bond　swerved　into　it　and　stopped　under　cover　of　a　low　hedge。　He　took　a　small　pair　of　binoculars　out　of　the　glove　partment；　got　out　of　the　car　and　walked　back。　Yes；　damn　it！　Goldfinger　was　sitting　below　a　small　bridge　on　the　bank　of　a　stream。　He　was　wearing　a　white　dust　coat　and　white　linen　driving　helmet　in　the　style　of　German　tourists。　He　was　eating；　having　a　picnic。　The　sight　made　Bond　hungry。　What　about　his　own　lunch？　He　examined　the　Rolls。　Through　the　rear　window　he　could　see　part　of　the　Korean's　black　shape　in　the　front　seat。　There　was　no　sign　of　the　Triumph。　If　the　girl　had　still　been　on　Goldfinger's　tail　she　would　have　had　no　warning。　She　would　have　just　kept　her　head　down　and　stepped　on　the　gas。　Now　she　would　be　somewhere　ahead；　waiting　in　ambush　for　the　Rolls　to　e　by。　Or　would　she？　Perhaps　Bond's　imagination　had　run　away　with　him。　She　was　probably　on　her　way　to　the　Italian　lakes　to　join　an　aunt；　some　friends；　a　lover。
　Now　Goldfinger　was　on　his　feet。　Tidy　man。　That's　right；　pick　up　the　scraps　of　paper　and　tuck　them　away　carefully　under　the　bridge。　Why　not　throw　them　in　the　stream？　Suddenly　Bond's　jaw　tightened。　What　did　those　actions　of　Gold…finger　remind　him　of？　Was　Bond　romancing　again；　or　was　the　bridge　a　post　box？　Had　Goldfinger　been　instructed　to　leave　something；　one　of　his　bars　of　gold；　under　this　particular　bridge？　France；　Switzerland；　Italy。　It　was　convenient　for　all　of　them　…　the　munist　cell　in　Lyons　for　instance；　one　of　the　strongest　in　France。　And　this　was　a　good　place　to　use　with　a　clear　field　of　view　up　and　down　the　road。
　Goldfinger　scrambled　up　the　bank。　Bond　drew　back　under　cover。　He　heard　the　distant　grind　of　the　old　self…starter。　He　cautiously　watched　the　Rolls　until　it　had　disappeared。
　It　was　a　pretty　bridge　over　a　pretty　stream。　It　had　a　survey　number　set　in　the　arch　…　79/6　…　the　sixth　bridge　from　some　town　on　N79。　Easy　to　find。　Bond　got　quickly　out　of　the　car　and　slid　down　the　shallow　bank。　It　was　dark　and　cool　under　the　arch。　There　were　the　shadows　of　fish　in　the　slow；　clear；　pebbled　water。　Bond　searched　the　edge　of　the　masonry　near　the　grass　verge。　Exactly　in　the　centre；　below　the　road；　there　was　a　patch　of　thick　grass　against　the　wall。　Bond　parted　the　grass。　There　was　a　sprinkling　of　freshly　turned　earth。　Bond　dug　with　his　fingers。
　There　was　only　one。　It　was　smooth　to　the　touch　and　brick…shaped。　It　needed　some　strength　to　lift　it。　Bond　brushed　the　earth　off　the　dull　yellow　metal　and　wrapped　the　heavy　bar　in　his　handkerchief。　He　held　the　bar　under　his　coat　and　climbed　back　up　the　bank　on　to　the　empty　road。
　
　CHAPTER　THIRTEEN
　
　'IF　YOU　TOUCH　ME　THERE。。。'
　
　BOND　FELT　pleased　with　himself。　A　whole　lot　of　people　were　going　to　get　very　angry　with　Goldfinger。　You　can　do　a　lot　of　dirty　work　with　twenty　thousand　pounds。　Now　plans　would　have　to　be　altered；　conspiracies　postponed；　perhaps　even　lives　saved。　And；　if　it　ever　got　to　an　inquiry　by　SMERSH；　which　was　unlikely　as　they　were　the　sort　of　realistic　people　who　cut　their　losses；　it　could　only　be　assumed　that　some　sheltering　tramp　had　found　the　gold　bar。
　Bond　lifted　the　secret　flap　under　the　passenger　seat　and　slipped　the　bar　inside。　Dangerous　stuff。　He　would　have　to　contact　the　next　station　of　the　Service　and　hand　it　over　to　them。　They　would　get　it　back　to　London　in　the　Embassy　bag。　Bond　would　have　to　report　this　quickly。　It　confirmed　a　lot。　M　might　even　want　to　warn　the　Deuxieme　and　have　the　bridge　watched　to　see　who　came。　But　Bond　hoped　that　would　not　happen。　He　didn't　want　a　scare　started　just　when　he　was　getting　close　to　Goldfinger。　He　wanted　the　skies　over　Gold…finger　to　be　blue　and　clear。
　Bond　got　moving。　Now　there　were　other　things　to　think　about。　He　must　catch　up　with　the　Rolls　before　Macon　and　get　the　next　fork；　to　Geneva　or　Lyons；　right。　He　must　solve　the　problem　of　the　girl　and　if　possible　get　her　off　the　road。　Pretty　or　not；　she　was　confusing　the　issue。　And　he　must　stop　and　buy　himself　something　to　eat　and　drink。　It　was　one　o'clock　and　the　sight　of　Goldfinger　eating　had　made　him　hungry。　And　it　was　time　to　fill　up　and　check　the　water　and　oil。
　The　drone　of　the　Homer　grew　louder。　He　was　in　the　outskirts　of　Macon。　He　must　close　up　and　take　the　risk　of　being　spotted。　The　busy　traffic　would　hide　his　low…slung　car。　It　was　vital　to　know　if　the　Rolls　crossed　the　Saone　for　the　Bourg　road　or　if　it　turned　right　at　the　bridge　and　joined　the　N6　for　Lyons。　Far　down　the　Rue　Rambuteau　there　was　a　glimpse　of　yellow。　Over　the　railway　bridge　and　through　the　little　square。　The　high　yellow　box　kept　on　towards　the　river。　Bond　watched　the　passers…by　turn　their　heads　to　follow　the　gleaming　Rolls。　The　river。　Would　Goldfinger　turn　right　or　keep　on　across　the　bridge？　The　Rolls　kept　straight　on。　So　it　was　Switzerland！　Bond　followed　over　into　the　suburb　of　St　Laurent。　Now　for　a　butcher　and　a　baker　and　a　wine　shop。　A　hundred　yards　ahead　the　golden　head　of　a　calf　hung　over　the　pavement。　Bond　glanced　in　his　driving　mirror。　Well；　well！　The　little　Triumph　was　only　feet　away　from　his　tail。　How　long　had　she　been　there？　Bond　had　been　so　intent　on　following　the　Rolls　that　he　hadn't　glanced　back　since　entering　the　town。　She　must　have　been　hiding　up　a　^ide　street。　So！　Now　coincidence　was　certainly　out。　Something　must　be　done。　Sorry；　sweetheart。　I've　got　to　mess　you　up。　I'll　be　as　gentle　as　I　can。　Hold　tight。　Bond　stopped　abruptly　in　front　of　the　butcher's　shop。　He　banged　the　gears　into　reverse。　There　was　a　sickening　scrunch　and　tinkle。　Bond　switched　off　his　engine　and　got　out。
　He　walked　round　to　the　back　of　the　car。　The　girl；　her　face　tense　with　anger；　had　one　beautiful　silken　leg　on　the　road。　There　was　an　indiscreet　glimpse'　of　white　thigh。　The　girl　stripped　off　her　goggles　and　stood；　legs　braced　and　arms　akimbo。　The　beautiful　mouth　was　taut　with　anger。
　The　Aston　Martin's　rear　bumper　was　locked　into　the　wreckage　of　the　Triumph's　lamps　and　radiator　grille。　Bond　said　amiably；　'If　you　touch　me　there　again　you'll　have　to　marry　me。'
　The　words　were　hardly　out　of　his　mouth　before　the　open　palm　cracked　across　his　face。　Bond　put　up　a　hand　and　rubbed　his　cheek。　Now　there　was　quite　a　crowd。　There　was　a　murmur　of　approval　and　ribaldry。　'Allez　y　la　gosse！　Main…tenant　le　knock…out！'
　The　girl's　rage　had　not　dissipated　with　the　blow。　'You　bloody　fool！　What　the　hell　do　you　think　you're　doing？'
　Bond　thought：　If　only　pretty　girls　were　always　angry　they　would　be　beautiful。　He　said；　'Your　brakes　can't　be　up　to　much。'
　'My　brakes！　What　the　hell　do　you　mean？　You　reversed　into　me。'
　'Gears　slipped。　I　didn't　know　you　were　so　close。'　It　was　time　to　calm　her　down。　'I'm　most　frightfully　sorry。　I'll　pay　for　all　the　repairs　and　everything。　It　really　is　bad　luck。　Let's　see　what　the　damage　is。　Try　and　back　away。　Doesn't　look　as　if　our　bumpers　have　over…ridden。'　Bond　put　a　foot　on　the　Triumph's　bumpers　and　rocked。
　'Don't　you　dare　touch　my　car！　Leave　it　alone。'　Angrily　the　girl　climbed　back　into　the　driver's　seat。　She　pressed　the　self…starter。　The　engine　fired。　Metal　clanged　under　the　bonnet。　She　switched　off　and　leant　out。　'There　you　are；　you　idiot！　You've　smashed　the　fan。'
　Bond　had　hoped　he　had。　He　got　into　his　own　car　and　eased　it　away　from　the　Triumph。　Bits　of　the　Triumph；　released　by　Bond's　bumper；　tinkled　on　to　the　road。　He　got　out　again。　The　crowd　had　thinned。　There　was　a　man　in　a　mechanic's　overalls。　He　v