Look, JW. I just gotta have me one of those cute little elephants.
Elephant?
They're Democrats, Maybelle.
If you got your pointy heads out of them pajamas, you wouldn't be late for work.
I knew it.
You pointy-heads has no more idea of traffic control than a gooney bird.
Get your cotton-picking schnoz out of my pants.
Boy, you is ugly.
JW?
Where are you?
What do they teach in that school? Ballet dancing?
I find nothing remotely amusing about Mr. Bond's escape.
You underestimated him.
Even my influence doesn't extend into the British Secret Service.
I shall lie low. I won't jeopardize a project in which I've invested half my fortune,
when it's ready to yield billions.
- Where will you hide out? - That does not concern you.
Take this.
Return it to the plant and don't leave there without my permission.
May I remind you that you work for me?
I took you on as a junior partner to be an occasional convenience, nothing more.
I did not hire you to interfere in my affairs. Is that clearly understood?
Yes, very clearly.
I now regret having even considered employing your services,
but that is beside the point.
Bond doesn't know you're in Bangkok. He's never seen you, but he knows me.
That's the problem.
That's no problem.
What happened?
Mr. Fat has just resigned. I'm the new chairman of the board.
He always did like that mausoleum.
Put him in it.
Sorry about that, darling. It was Hip.
There's still no sign of Hai Fat. Every inquiry gets a polite Oriental brush-off.
With the compliments.
"Phuyuck"?
'74, sir.
- I approve. - You do?
Not the wine, your frock.
Tight in all the right places. Not too many buttons.
Standard uniform for Southeast Asia. The buttons are down the back.
Designed by Q, no doubt. One of them's a suicide pill, I suppose.
No, but the bottom one has a homer in it.
How original. A toast...
"To this moment and the moment yet to come."
In our profession, I'm afraid, you never can count on that moment to come.
Who knows where you and I will be this time next year?
Opposite sides of the world, most likely.
That's too far apart.
Now, if Hip doesn't come up with a lead,
there's really nothing very much for us to do tonight.
Or is there?
Darling, I'm tempted.
But killing a few hours as one of your passing fancies isn't quite my scene.
Phuyuck.
Goodnight, what a pleasant surprise.
My hard-to-get act didn't last very long, did it?
I was trained to expect the unexpected,
but they never prepared me for anything like you in a nightie.
James, I thought this would never happen.
- What made you change your mind? - I'm weak.
Don't move.
Miss Anders. I didn't recognize you with your clothes on.
I bribed a bellboy to let me in.
I've come to warn you. You're in great danger.
I usually am. That's why I use the old three-pillow trick.
Please believe me, I'm risking my life to come here.
Your concern for my wellbeing is touching, but puzzles me.
- Scaramanga is in Bangkok. - He was in Hong Kong, but not after me.
We've been through that routine.
- He's a monster, I hate him. - Then leave him.
You don't walk out on Scaramanga. There's no place he wouldn't find me.
You need a good lawyer.
I need 007.
Who do you think sent that bullet to London with your number on it?
I did.
And it wasn't easy getting his fingerprint on the note.
You'll forgive me if I've been a little slow on the uptake.
Don't you see you're the only man in the world who can kill him?
Now, what gives you that idea?
The way Scaramanga speaks about you. Even has a likeness of you.
I'm flattered.
I want him dead.
Name your price. Anything, I'll pay it.
You can have me too, if you like.
I'm not unattractive.
At last you're starting to tell the truth.
I've dreamed about you setting me free.
I've been dreaming about a solex agitator.
Ever heard of one?
Perhaps you can have that too.
No, my clothes are in there.
- I'll kill that woman. - Later.
Charming.
It was an inspiration, sending that bullet.
You're late.
It was a double feature.
- What are you doing? - Putting my jewelry away.
You can come out now.
- What time is it? - Two-ish.
Two? You mean I've been in here for two hours?
- All in the line of duty. - Duty? I'm resigning in the morning.
Come on, don't let us down. The Service needs women like you.
Obviously you don't.
Forgive me, darling. Your turn will come, I promise.
As soon as she brings me that solex.
- For killing Scaramanga? - If she gets me the solex agitator first.
First?
James, you must be good.
We'll find out about that the next time I meet her.
She's making the arrangements.
Sorry I'm late. Bangkok traffic's worse than Piccadilly.
He's made contact.
- How's the charm boy doing? - Need you ask?
Meet you outside.
Did you bring it?
Darling, I left it in your handbag.
It must be in here somewhere, I saw the man in the shop give it to you.
Without the ticket, we can't get a receipt.
You won't find it, Mr. Bond. I looked before you came.
I wouldn't do that either. Look behind you.
Lower.
A gun in a bag of peanuts. How original. What will they think of next?
My name is Scaramanga. Francisco Scaramanga.
I feel I know you, although I never thought we should ever really meet.
It's a very great pleasure for me, Mr. Bond, thanks to Miss Anders.
You've a strange way of showing your gratitude.
A mistress cannot serve two masters.
A difficult shot, but most gratifying.
Well, we all get our jollies one way or another.
Mine have always been guns. When I was a boy, I was brought up in a circus.
My only real friend was a magnificent African bull elephant.
One day his handler mistreated him and he went berserk.
Bleeding, dying, he came and found me.
Stood on one leg - his best trick - picked me up and put me on his back.
The man emptied the gun into his eye.
- I emptied my stage pistol into his. - An eye for an eye. Nut?
You see, Mr. Bond, I always thought I liked animals.
Then I discovered that I liked killing people even more.
Keep this. Whatever you do, don't lose it.
- I have to help James. - Something's wrong?
- There's a midget with a gun on him. - A midget?
Same one I saw outside the Bottoms Up. The girl is dead. Call the police.
Forget the girl. She's replaceable.
And I shall find what she stole from me.
I've got nothing against you, so let us hope that our paths never cross again.
Please don't try to follow me.
Your peanut-toting friend wouldn't like it.
No, he wouldn't.
You want to try one of mine?
- Where's the solex? - With Goodnight.
- Where's Goodnight. - Outside.
She must be by the car.
Women. Walkie-talkie.
- Goodnight, where are you? - Somebody locked me in a boot.
- In a what? - The midget's car. I'm locked in.
It's a bronze car with a black roof. Number 7543.
- The keys. - I haven't got them.
Oh, no.
- Goodnight, where are the car keys? - I've got the keys.
And I've got the solex too.
Taxi.
Stay in there, Goodnight. We've got you spotted.
Taxi. Taxi.
Taxi.
- How 'bout a demonstration, boy? - Certainly, sir.
What the hell is goin' on?
Now, I know you.
- Oh, no. - You're that secret agent.
That English secret agent from England.
You're chasin' somebody. Who are you after this time, boy? Commies?
Let's go get 'em. I'm with you all the way.
I think we've got trouble.
Pull your cars over, you little brown pointy-heads.
I'm a peace officer.
James, are you still there? James?
Can you hear me? James?
- All right, don't panic. - Who's that?
It's...
- It's Headquarters. - Let me talk to 'em.
Hello. This is Sheriff JW Pepper, Louisiana State Police.
Now, you call my wife at the Narai Hotel and tell her I'm on a mission.
I've been deputized.
- Right? - Right.
Which car are we chasin', boy?
Move it.
Get that piece of junk off of the road.
They went left, boy.
Press that pedal, boy.
Where the hell they got to?
You goofed, boy.
Nearest bridge is two miles back.
Goddamn. What the...?
What's goin' on? What the hell you doin' now?
The bridge is that way.
You're not thinking of...?
I sure am, boy.
Ever heard of Evel Knievel?
- I ain't never done that before. - Neither have I, actually.
Let's go get 'em, boy.
You stay put, boy. This is my department.
Glad to see you boys on the ball.
Sheriff JW Pepper, Louisiana State Police. Here's my identification.
This is the Law Enforcement Association, American Legion.
Me and my partner here, we're on a secret mission.
What the hell you doing? Give me my wallet back.
Doors.
You can't do this to me. I want my wallet back. Take these goddamn bracelets off.
I'm gonna sue ya for false arrest, police brutality. I got connections.
I'm gonna get the FBI on your asses, the CIA.
Goddamn it, I'm gonna get Henry Kissinger.
Look at me when I'm talkin' to ya, boy.
What's the matter? Ain't none of you ever seen an airplane before?
James? James, are you still there?
Can you hear me? I think we've stopped.
That is really all there is to report, sir.
So, if I heard correctly, Scaramanga got away.
Yes, sir.
- In a car that sprouted wings. - That's perfectly feasible, sir.
- We're working on one now. - Q, shut up.
- Miss Goodnight was in the boot? - Yes.
We found the car-plane abandoned about 200 miles west of Bangkok.
- And the solex? - In Goodnight's handbag, sir.
- Where's Goodnight now? - We don't know, sir.
Communications aren't picking up the signal from Q's homer.
Rubbish. They're simply not stepping up the reception sufficiently to...
Shut up, Q.
Of all the fouled-up, half-witted operations...
- What do you want? - We've picked up Goodnight's signal.
- That's something. - But there is something rather curious.
Our sector's here,
and we're receiving her signal from somewhere off this coastline here.
Now here it is on a much larger scale.
That's where she is, in this group of small islands.
That's all we need. Red Chinese waters.
We could stray inadvertently into them. I could fly low under their radar screen.
Absolutely out of the question.
If the PM gets to hear of this, he'll hang me from the yardarm.
Officially you won't know a thing about it, sir.
There's a small seaplane approaching your island.
Do you want us to take any action?
No. No, please don't do anything.
Yes. It's a guest I'm expecting.
No. He won't be leaving.
I am Nick Nack.
- Dom Pérignon '64. - I prefer the '62 myself.
Still, beats a bag of peanuts.
Monsieur Scaramanga will welcome you personally.
Forgive me, Mr. Bond. A vulgar display, but I couldn't resist it.
Because I am so delighted to see you again.
A harmless toy.
I am, as you can see now, completely unarmed.
Cigarette? We have so much in common, Mr. Bond.
We have much to discuss and won't have this opportunity again.
Ours is the loneliest profession, so let us spend a few pleasant hours together.
How can I refuse such a gracious invitation?
Splendid. Splendid.
Nick Nack, I expect you to surpass yourself.
- He's a cordon bleu, you know. - By the way, where's Miss Goodnight?
She's around here somewhere.
There's no way for her to leave, so she does as she pleases.
- How do you like my island? - A bit off the beaten track, isn't it?
It's rent-free. I do my landlords an occasional favor.
A cozy arrangement.
- Servant problem, I suppose? - Not at all.
Nick Nack does for me very nicely.
Usually, there's just the two of us, but having guests is no inconvenience.
We have every electrical labor-saving device you could think of.
This is an airlock, as you are doubtless aware.
Automatic, of course.
Naturally we have an ample supply of electricity here.
Let me show you.
This should run a few electric toothbrushes.
Up here.
A solar-energy station. So this is what it's all about.
Thermoelectric generators to convert solar energy into electricity.
All built by Hai Fat's construction company, no doubt?
Somehow I seem to have inherited it from him. It's fully automated.
That's Kra, he looks after everything in here.
Nick Nack does everything else.
They tell me the electricity is stored in here somewhere.
Science was never my strong point.
Superconductivity coils cooled by liquid helium.
If I were you, I wouldn't stick my finger, or anything else, in there.
At 453 degrees below zero, that liquid helium would break it off like an icicle.
You really know far more about it than I do.
I'm arranging for every country that can afford the price to send their experts here.
But no solex until the money is in the bank, right?
- Right. - I have run across similar situations.
Not what I've got here.
The highest bidder can build hundreds of stations and sell franchises for more.
He will literally have the sun in his pocket.
A monopoly on solar power.
The oil sheikhs will pay you to keep solar energy off the market.
The thought had occurred to me.
This is the collection point.
So that's where it belongs.
Our famous solex in the still down there transmits heat to the thermal generators.
It's collected through this?
But where is it collected from? You need the sun.
Watch that mushroom-shaped rock.
Ingenious, isn't it?
The panels lock on to the sun, then track it automatically.
Something like that, yes.
Reflected through this, those panels must produce a heat of at least 3500/F.
If you say so, Mr. Bond.
But I do know that we can focus the power wherever we want. I'll show you.
This is a bonus.
Goes with the solex. No extra charge.
This is the part I really like.
Now that's what I call solar power.
That's what I call trouble.
You must admit, Mr. Bond, I am now undeniably the Man with the Golden Gun.
Lunch.
This way, Mr. Bond.
Miss Goodnight.
- Aren't we a little overdressed? - I like a girl in a bikini.
No concealed weapons. Miss Goodnight, please.
Mr. Bond.
Now let's see what Nick Nack has for us.
Ah. Mushrooms.
The fried mushroom looks terribly interesting.
Yes, I'd noticed that. I'll get around to it later.
- Having fun in the sun, Goodnight? - Yes.
I could stay here forever.
Excellent. Slightly reminiscent of a '34 Mouton.
Then I must add it to my cellar.
You live well, Scaramanga.
At a million dollars a contract, I can afford to, Mr. Bond.
You work for peanuts. A "well done" from the queen and a pittance of a pension.
Apart from that, we are the same.
To us, Mr. Bond. We are the best.
There's a useful four-letter word, and you're full of it.
When I kill it's under specific orders of my government.
And those I kill are themselves killers.
Come, come, Mr. Bond. You disappoint me.
You get as much fulfillment out of killing as I do, admit it.
- I admit killing you would be a pleasure. - You should have done that before.
But then the English don't consider it sporting to kill in cold blood, do they?
Don't count on that.
I could have shot you down when you landed but that would have been too easy.
You see, Mr. Bond, like every great artist,
I want to create an indisputable masterpiece once in my lifetime.
The death of 007, mano a mano, face to face, will be mine.
You mean stuffed and displayed over your rocky mantelpiece?
That's an amusing idea, but I was thinking in terms of history.
A duel between titans.
My golden gun against your Walther PPK. Each of us with a 50-50 chance.
Six bullets to your one?
I only need one.
Sounds a bit old-fashioned, doesn't it? Pistols at dawn, that sort of thing.
Indeed it is, Mr. Bond.
But it still remains the only true test for gentlemen.
I doubt if you qualify on that score.
However, I accept.
As soon as I have finished this delicious lunch that Nick Nack has prepared for us.
Messieurs, I will remind you, this is un duel à la mort.
Only one of you can leave the field of honor.
If a coup de grâce is necessary,
as your referee, I will administer it myself.
I do not expect wounds, only a clean kill.
On my command each contestant will take 20 paces.
Are you ready, monsieur Scaramanga?
- Ready. - Are you ready, monsieur Bond?
- Ready. - I will now begin the count.
One, two,
three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, nine,
ten, eleven, twelve,
thirteen, fourteen,
fifteen, sixteen,
seventeen, eighteen,
nineteen, twenty.
If you kill him, all this be mine.
This way, monsieur Bond.
- Monsieur, good shooting. - I've never killed a midget before.
But there can always be a first time.
You only have three bullets left.
I have fooled you.
Steady, Goodnight.
- Where is he? - Flat on his coup de grâce.
Come on, let's get out of this fun palace and find that solex.
Wait here. I'll take care of the maintenance man.
I already did. I laid him out cold.
- You did? - Yes.
There's more to you than meets the eye.
I hate to ask stupid questions, but where exactly did you knock him cold?
He landed in that one.
Don't you believe in signs?
We've got five minutes before his body temperature raises the helium above zero.
Then this whole damn place will go sky-high.
I'm sorry. I didn't know.
Kill the beam.
- Hit the master override switch. - The what?
- Goodnight. - Yes, James.
Now listen carefully. There's a console up there.
Now, there must be a scanner interlock button on it. Push it.
Goodnight, are you still there? It'll be on the auxiliary feedback circuit.
"Computer interlock..." Is that it?
Just push every damn button, will you?
Good girl, Goodnight. You've done it.
Oh, I have.
Goodnight, get the hell out of there. I've got it.
- I hope you can swim, Goodnight. - This way.
His junk is moored around the corner.
- But, darling, who is at the wheel? - George.
George?
Automatic pilot.
We should make Hong Kong in about eight hours.
Give or take a little.
I always wanted to take a slow boat from China.
I'll kill you.
You.
What are you doing?
I can't breathe.
You'll be sorry.
I may be small, but I never forget.
I kill you if you don't let me out of here.
Let me out, you big bully.
Shut up.
- What did you do with him? - What do you think?
- James, you didn't. - Yes, I damn well did.
Got all the glass out of the bed, I trust?
We don't want anything else to disturb our peace, do we?
Now, where were we?
Oh, James.
What's the matter?
Something came up.
Hello?
There you are, Bond.
- Well done. Congratulations. - Thank you, sir.
Is Miss Goodnight with you? I'd like a word with her.
Hold on, sir.
Bond? Bond, are you there?
Goodnight?
She's just coming, sir.
Goodnight?
- Goodnight. - Good night, sir.