- Congratulations. - Thank you.
Mr. Ramirez and his friends will be out of business.
At least he won't be using heroin flavored bananas to finance revolutions.
Don't go back to your hotel. They'll be watching you.
A plane leaves for Miami in an hour.
I'll be on it...
but first I have some unfinished business to attend to.
Forgive me.
Why do you always wear that thing?
I have a slight inferiority complex.
Where was I? Oh, yes.
Shocking.
Positively shocking.
He's the man The man with the Midas touch
A spider's touch
Such a cold finger
Beckons you to enter his web of sin
But don't go in
Golden words he will pour in your ear
But his lies can't disguise what you fear
For a golden girl
Knows when he's kissed her
It's the kiss of death
From Mr. Goldfinger
Pretty girl beware of this heart of gold
This heart is cold
He loves only gold
Only gold
- How's this? - That's very nice.
- Here? - Lower, darling.
I thought I'd find you in good hands.
Felix! How are you?
- Dink, meet Felix Leiter. - Hello.
- Felix, say hello to Dink. - Hi, Dink.
Dink, say good-bye to Felix. Man talk.
You must be slipping, 007, letting the opposition get that close to you.
They got closer to you in Jamaica, didn't they? What's on your mind?
- I'm on holiday. - Not anymore. Signal from London.
I knew M wouldn't book me into the best hotel in Miami Beach out of gratitude.
He asked us to keep an eye on him for you.
Auric Goldfinger. Sounds like a French nail varnish.
He's British but he doesn't sound like it.
Big operator. Worldwide interests, all apparently reputable.
Owns one of the finest stud farms in the States.
- What's the tie with Washington? - He's clean as far as CIA's concerned.
Where do I find him?
That's his pigeon.
Goldfinger's been taking him to the cleaners every day for a week.
Morning, Mr. Simmons. Ready for our game?
Sure I'm ready. When you're 10 grand in the hole, you're ready for anything.
- Could I have my usual seat? - You and your suntan!
Goldfinger's a fabulous cardplayer.
- Same stakes? - Let's double it.
Five dollars a point.
- Did you say five? - My luck's got to change.
I'll get back to the office and cable M you're on the job.
- Fill me in on the rest at dinner. - I'll call you later.
- Four. - So soon?
How many?
Seven, twelve, eighteen, thirty-two...
forty-four.
Miss?
What are you...
That's Mr. Goldfinger's suite!
Yes, I know.
You're very sweet.
He just drew the king of clubs. That makes his count 59.
He's got a diamond run. 8, 9, 10.
He's holding onto the 6 of spades. I guess he thinks you want it.
That last draw was the 8 of hearts.
He needs kings and queens.
- Who are you? - Bond. James Bond.
Come on.
That's better!
- What's your name? - Jill.
- Jill who? - Jill Masterson.
- Tell me, Jill, why does he do it? - He likes to win.
- Why do you do it? - He pays me.
- Is that all he pays you for? - And for being seen with him.
- Just seen? - Just seen.
I'm glad.
You're much too nice to be mixed up in anything like this.
Now hear this, Goldfinger. Your luck has just changed.
I doubt if the Miami Beach police would take kindly...
to what you're doing.
Nod if you agree.
Nod.
Good. Now start losing, Goldfinger.
Shall we say $10,000?
Let's be generous. Let's make it $15,000.
May I see?
I can see this is really my day. Gin.
Over and out.
That should keep him occupied for some time.
I'm beginning to like you, Mr. Bond.
Oh, call me James.
More than anyone I've met in a long time, James.
What are we going to do about it?
- Yes, what? - I'll tell you at dinner.
Where?
I know the best place in town.
Station WEDS brings you the latest in world news.
Washington. At the White House this afternoon...
the President said he was entirely satisfied...
That makes two of us.
- Hello. - Leiter here.
Felix.
What's that? Dinner?
No, I'm sorry, I can't. Something big's come up.
Right.
- How about breakfast? - Not too early.
- I'll call you around 9:00. - Yes, 9:00 would be fine.
- So long, James. - Good night, Felix.
It's lost its chill.
Oh, why, you!
- There's another in the fridge. - Who needs it?
My dear girl, there are some things that just aren't done.
Such as drinking Dom Perignon '53...
above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit.
That's as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs.
Now, where is this passion juice?
Jill?
- Yes, Mr. Bond. - Beach 7-9432.
Room 119.
- Hello? - Felix? Get over here right away.
- What's up? - The girl's dead.
- Dink? - No, Jill Masterson.
And she's covered in paint. Gold paint.
Gold? All over?
She died of skin suffocation. It's been known to happen to cabaret dancers.
It's all right as long as you leave a bare patch at the base of the spine...
to allow the skin to breathe.
- Someone obviously didn't. - And I know who.
This isn't a personal vendetta, 007. It's an assignment like any other.
But if you can't treat it as such, coldly and objectively...
then 008 can replace you.
You've hardly distinguished yourself.
You were supposed to observe Goldfinger, not borrow his girlfriend.
Instead, Goldfinger goes to Europe. And only by the grace of God...
your friend Leiter and my intervention with the British Embassy...
that you're not in the custody of the Miami Beach police.
I'm aware of my shortcomings.
But I'm prepared to continue this assignment...
in the spirit you suggest if I knew...
what it was about, sir.
What do you know about gold? Not paint. Bouillon.
I know it when I see it.
Meet me here at 7:00. Black tie.
What do you know about gold, Moneypenny?
The only gold I know about is the kind you wear.
You know, on the third finger of your left hand.
One of these days we must look into that.
What about tonight? You come for dinner...
and I'll cook you a beautiful angel cake.
Nothing would give me greater pleasure, but I do have a business appointment.
That's the flimsiest excuse you've ever given me.
Well, some girls have all the luck.
- Who is she, James? - She is me, Miss Moneypenny.
And kindly omit the customary byplay with 007. He's dining with me.
I don't want him to be late.
So there's hope for me yet.
Moneypenny, won't you ever believe me?
We at the Bank of England are the official depository for gold bouillon...
just as Fort Knox, Kentucky is for the United States.
We know the amounts we each hold and the amounts deposited in other banks.
And we can estimate what is being held for industrial purposes.
This enables the two governments to establish...
the true value of the dollar and the pound.
Consequently, we are vitally concerned with unauthorized leakages.
I take it you mean smuggling.
Yes.
Gold, which can be melted down and recast, is virtually untraceable...
which makes it, unlike diamonds, ideal for smuggling...
attracting the biggest and most ingenious criminals.
Thank you. That'll be all.
Thank you, sir.
Have a little more of this rather disappointing brandy.
What's wrong with it?
I'd say it was a 30-year-old fine, indifferently blended...
with an overdose of bon bois.
Colonel Smithers is giving the lecture, 007.
Mr. Goldfinger has gold bouillon on deposit...
in Zurich, Amsterdam, Caracas and Hong Kong worth 20 million pounds.
- Most of it came from this country. - Why move it?
Because the price of gold varies from country to country.
If you buy it here at $30 an ounce, you can sell it in Pakistan for $110...
and triple your money.
- If you have facilities for melting it. - Has he?
Apart from being a legitimate bouillon dealer, Mr. Goldfinger posses...
No, that's not fair.
Is, among his other interests, a legitimate international jeweler.
He's legally entitled to operate modest metallurgical installations.
His British one is down in Kent.
We've tried but failed to discover how he transfers his gold overseas.
If your department can establish that it is done illegally...
then the bank can begin proceedings to recover the bulk of his holdings.
It's time Mr. Goldfinger and I met, socially, of course.
I was hoping you'd say that.
It might lead to a business talk. Mr. Goldfinger's kind of business.
- I'll need some sort of bait. - I agree.
This is the only one we have, from the bottom of Lake Toplitz.
There are undoubtedly others.
Mr. Bond can make whatever use of it he thinks fit...
providing he returns it, of course.
It's worth 5,000 pounds.
You'll draw it from Q branch with the rest of your equipment.
Of course.
- Good morning, Q. - Good morning, 007.
This way, please.
My, we are busy this morning.
It's not perfected yet.
- Where's my Bentley? - It's had its day, I'm afraid.
- It's never let me down. - M's orders.
You'll be using this Astin Martin DB-5 with modifications.
Pay attention, please.
Windscreen: Bulletproof...
as are the side and rear windows.
Revolving number plates, naturally.
Valid all countries.
Here's a nice transmitting device called a "homer. "
You prime it by pressing that back like this. You see?
The smaller model is now standard field issue...
to be fitted into the heel of your shoe.
Its larger brother is magnetic.
Right. It's to be concealed in the car you're trailing...
while you keep out of sight.
Reception on the dashboard here.
Audiovisual, range 150 miles.
Ingenious and useful, too.
Allow a man to stop off for a quick one en route.
It's not been perfected out of years of patient research and time...
for that purpose, 007.
Incidentally, we'd appreciate its return...
along with all your other equipment...
in tact for once, when you return from the field.
You'd be surprised at the amount of wear and tear out there in the field.
Anything else?
I won't keep you for more than an hour if you give me your undivided attention.
We've installed interesting modifications.
You see this arm?
Open the top and inside are your defense mechanism controls.
Smoke screen, oil slick, rear bulletproof screen...
and left and right front wing machine guns.
This one I'm particularly keen about. See the gear lever here?
If you take the top off, you'll find a little red button.
- Whatever you do, don't touch it. - Why not?
Because you'll release this section of the roof...
and engage and fire the passenger ejector seat.
Ejector seat? You're joking.
I never joke about my work.
- Ready? - Yes, sir.
There's an old member dropped by, same handicap as yours.
- Would you rather play with him? - Where is he?
- Yes? - This is Mr. Goldfinger.
- How do you do? - How do you do?
- You can begin. The first tee is clear. - Fine.
- I'll get Hawker to carry for you. - That'll be splendid.
Shall we make it a shilling a hole?
You must excuse Oddjob, Mr. Bond. He's an admirable manservant.
He's mute, and not a very good caddy.
Golf is not yet the national game of Korea, eh?
This meeting is not a coincidence, eh?
What's your game, Mr. Bond?
My game?
You didn't come here to play golf.
A 1940's smelt from Essen.
- Part of a smelt of 600. - They vanished in 1944.
- When the Nazis were on the run. - You have access to more?
- Yes, from the same source. - Interesting.
- Two holes to go. - Yes, and all square.
- No objection to increasing the stakes? - No. What'd you have in mind?
The bar of gold you have with you, naturally.
- It's worth 5,000 pounds. - I'll stake the cash equivalent.
Naturally.
Strict rules of golf?
Of course.
Bad luck. You're in the rough.
What a pity. Here it is.
No, it's not. He's plays a Slazenger 1.
Strict rules of golf. Five minutes are almost up.
The lost ball will cost you stroke and distance.
I'm still training him as a caddy.
Successfully, too.
Slazenger 1?
Good.
If that's his original ball, I'm Arnold Palmer.
It isn't.
- How do you know? - I'm standing on it.
Why you crafty old...
Leave it.
- The ball you found? - Yes, Slazenger 7.
Let's have fun with Goldfinger.
- Like me to mark it or knock it in? - Play it.
- This for a half? - That's right.
One to go. That'll be the clincher.
Did you switch 'em, sir?
- Then we've got him. - If he doesn't notice the switch.
- It's your honor, sir. - It's all right.
Down in five.
I have to sink this to halve the game, right?
You win.
I'm too good for you.
Don't you play Slazenger 1?
Yes, why?
This is a Slazenger 7. Here's my Penfold Heart.
You must've played the wrong ball somewhere on the 18th fairway.
We're playing strict rules, so I'm afraid you lose the hole and the match.
She's a beauty. Phantom Ill-37, isn't she?
- You are a clever, resourceful man. - Thank you.
Perhaps too clever. Twice our paths have crossed.
Let's leave it at that. Our first meeting should've convinced you.
I see. You're worried about me not giving you a return game.
Both of us know perfectly well what we are talking about.
But I see it is necessary to remind you. Oddjob!
Many people have tried to involve themselves in my affairs unsuccessfully.
Remarkable. But what does the club secretary have to say?
Nothing, Mr. Bond.
I own the club.
I assume you want a check made out to cash.
That would be satisfactory.
Good-bye, Mr. Bond.
I believe this is yours.
May I have your attention, please.
British United Airfarers announce the final call...
for the departure of their 400 flight to Geneva.
I've got you booked on the next flight to Geneva leaving in half an hour.
- Thank you. - Right.
Discipline, 007.
Discipline.
Are you all right? Here, let me help you.
- You're lucky to be alive. - No thanks to you.
You should've pulled over further.
- Look at them! - A double blowout.
I've never seen this before.
How could new tires...
A defect, most likely.
I'm glad it's only the car and not you. You don't look the sort to be ditched.
Never mind that. Please take me to the nearest garage.
Certainly.
My name is Bond.
As quickly as possible.
- I'll take that. - Yes, of course.
What's your name?
Soames. Tilly Soames.
Here for the hunting season?
I had a case just like that one.
It's for my ice skates.
Lovely sport.
- Where do you skate? - Saint Moritz.
I didn't know there was ice there this time of year.
There's a garage.
It'll take 24 hours to get new tires. There's a hotel nearby.
- I'll run you down. - That won't be necessary.
I hate to leave you here alone.
- I can take care of myself. - Yes, I'm sure you can.
Well, don't forget to write.
Smuggling is an art.
And art requires...
In this case, the bodywork of my Rolls Royce is 18 karat gold.
We dismantle it here.
We reduce the gold in this special furnace to ingots...
which, in turn, will weigh approximately two tons in bouillon.
I make six trips a year to the continent in the Rolls Royce.
It would be wiser to suspend your other activities.
Assure your principals Operation Grand Slam...
will have my undivided attention.
Let me go! You're breaking my back!
- What the hell are you doing here? - I want to kill him.
- Kill who? - Goldfinger.
- I want him alive. - I want him dead! He killed my sister.
T.M. Tilly Masterson.
I knew your sister Jill and what he did to her in Miami.
No, you don't! Let me go!
If you wanted to kill him, why did you shoot at me?
- I didn't. I was shooting at him. - You're a lousy shot.
But somebody else around here isn't. Come on.
Quick, get in the car. I'll take care of him.
Run for that bracken when I tell you.
Now!
Good evening, 007.
My name is James Bond.
And members of your curious profession are few in number.
You have been recognized...
by one of your opposite numbers, who is also licensed to kill.
That interesting car of yours!
I, too, have a new toy but considerably more practical.
You are looking at an industrial laser...
which emits an extraordinary light not to be found in nature.
It can project a spot on the moon.
Or at closer range, cut through solid metal. I will show you.
This is gold, Mr. Bond.
All my life I've been in love with its color...
its brilliance, its divine heaviness.
I welcome any enterprise that will increase my stock...
which is considerable.
You've made your point. Thank you for the demonstration.
Choose your next witticism carefully. It may be your last.
The purpose of our two previous encounters is now clear to me.
I do not intend to be distracted by another. Good night, Mr. Bond.
- Do you expect me to talk? - No, I expect you to die.
There is nothing you can talk to me about that I don't already know.
You're forgetting one thing.
If I fail to report, 008 replaces me.
I trust he will be more successful.
He knows what I know.
You know nothing, Mr. Bond.
Operation Grand Slam, for instance.
Two words you may have overheard...
which cannot have any significance to you or anyone in your organization.
Can you afford to take that chance?
You are right, Mr. Bond.
You are worth more to me alive.
Who are you?
My name is Pussy Galore.
I'm dreaming.
- I thought I'd wake up dead. - Tranquilizer gun. Knockout shot.
I see.
I'm delighted to be here.
And by the way, where is here?
35,000 feet flying southwest over Newfoundland.
That explains the humming.
You're in Mr. Goldfinger's Lockheed jet heading for Baltimore.
- You're his guest. - I'm honored.
I never realized he enjoyed my company that much.
It won't be all fun and games. Mei-Lei.
Can I do something for you, Mr. Bond?
Just a drink. A martini, shaken...
not stirred.
- Won't you join me? - Not on duty.
I'm Mr. Goldfinger's personal pilot.
You are?
And how personal is that?
I'm a damn good pilot. Period.
That's good news.
- Where is our host? - He flew ahead.
Thank you.
Here's to Operation Grand Slam.
This should be a memorable flight.
You can turn off the charm. I'm immune.
We land in Baltimore...
our port of entry into the United States in 55 minutes.
Mei-Lei...
I would like to arrive more appropriately dressed.
Did any of my luggage survive with me?
And my attaché case?
Black attaché case damaged when examined. So sorry.
Apology is quite unnecessary.
Sydney, tell Mei-Lei to keep an eye on him.