Goldfinger Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Goldfinger script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the James Bond movie starring Sean Connery.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Goldfinger. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Goldfinger Script


           - Congratulations. - Thank you.

            Mr Romales and his friends will be out of business.

            He won't be using heroin-flavoured bananas to finance revolutions.

            Don't go back to your hotel, señor. They'll be watching you.

            - There's a plane to 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?


            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

            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

              He loves gold

              He loves only gold

              Only gold

              He loves gold

              One, two, three!

              Who's over there?

              - How's this? - It's nice... Very nice.

              - Just here? - No, a little lower.

              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 goodbye to Felix.

              Man talk.

              You must be slipping,     letting the opposition get that close to you.

              They got a lot closer to you in Jamaica.

              What's on your mind? I'm on holiday.

              Not any more, you're not. Signal from London.

              I knew M wouldn't book me into the best hotel here 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 seem reputable.

              Owns one of the finest US stud farms.

              - What's the tie-up with Washington? - He's clean.

              And where do I find him?

              That's his pigeon waiting for him now.

              Goldfinger's been taking him to the cleaners every day for a week.

              Morning, Mr Simmons! Ready for our little game?

              Sure. When you're ten grand in the hole, you're ready for anything.

              - Could I have my usual seat? - You and your suntan!

              Goldfinger's a fabulous card player.

              - Same stakes? - Let's double it.

              Five dollars a point.

              - Did you say five? - My luck's gotta change some time.


              I'll get back and cable M you're on the job.

              - Fill me in on the rest at dinner. - Fine. I'll call you later.

              - Four. - So soon?

              How many?




              Hey, 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   .

              He's got a diamond run: eight, nine, ten.

              He's holding on to the six of spades, so I guess he thinks you want it.

              That last draw was the eight of hearts.

              He needs kings and queens.

              - Who are you? - Bond. James Bond.

              Come on, come on!

              That's more like it!

              - 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 so glad.

              You're much too nice to be mixed up in anything like this, you know.

              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 your head if you agree.


              Good! Now start losing, Goldfinger.

              Shall we say $     ?

              No, let's be generous.

              Let's make it $      .

              May I see?

              Hell, I can see this is really my day!


              Over and out.

              That should keep him occupied for quite some time.

              I'm beginning to like you, Mr Bond.

              Call me James.

              More than anyone I've met in a long time... James.

              What on earth are we going to do about it?

              - Yes. What? - I'll tell you at dinner.


              Well, I know the best place in town.

              Station WEDS brings you the latest in world news.

              Washington. At the White House today,

              the President said he was entirely satisfied...

              That makes two of us.

              - Hello. - Leiter here.

              - Felix! - Well, now?

              What's that? Dinner?

              No, look, I'm sorry.

              I can't. Something big's come up.

              How about breakfast?

              - OK. - Not too early.

              - I'll call you around nine. - Yes, nine o'clock will be fine.

              - So long, James. - Good night, Felix.

              It's lost its chill!

              - Why, you! - There's another in the fridge.

              - Who needs it? - My dear, some things just aren't done.

              Such as drinking Dom Pérignon '  

              above a temperature of   ° Fahrenheit.

              That's as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs.

              Now... where is this passion juice?


              Yes, Mr Bond?

              Beach      . Room      .

              - Hello? - Hello, Felix.

              Get over here right away.

              - What's happened? - The girl's dead.

              - Dink? - No, Masterson. Jill Masterson.

              And she's covered in paint. Gold paint.


              All over?

              She died of skin suffocation. It can happen to cabaret dancers.

              You should leave a small 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,    .

              It's an assignment like any other.

              And if you can't treat it as such, coldly and objectively,

                  can replace you.

              You've hardly distinguished yourself.

              You were to observe Mr Goldfinger. Not borrow his girlfriend.

              Instead, Goldfinger goes to Europe and it's only thanks to Leiter

              and my diplomatic intervention

              that you're not being held by the Miami Beach police!

              Sir, I am aware of my shortcomings.

              But I'm prepared to continue this assignment in the spirit you suggest

              if I knew what it was about,


              What do you know about gold? Not paint, bullion.

              I know it when I see it.

              Meet me here at seven.

              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 really must look into that.

              What about tonight? Come round for dinner

              and I'll cook you a beautiful angel cake.

              Nothing would give me greater pleasure

              but unfortunately I do have a... business appointment.

              That's the flimsiest excuse you've ever given me!

              Some girls have all the luck!

              - Who is she, James? - She is me, Miss Moneypenny,

              and kindly omit the customary by-play with    . He's dining with me

              and I don't want him to be late.

              So there's hope for me yet?


              Won't you ever believe me?

              We here at the Bank of England

              are the official depository for gold bullion.

              Just as Fort Knox, Kentucky, is for the United States.

              We know the amounts we each hold and the amounts deposited in other banks.

              We can estimate what is being held for industrial purposes.

              Thus, both governments can establish

              the true value of the dollar and the pound.

              Consequently, we are concerned with unauthorised leakages.

              I take it you mean smuggling.


              Gold, gentlemen, which can be melted down and recast, is all but untraceable,

              which makes it, unlike diamonds, ideal for smuggling,

              attracting the biggest and most ingenious criminals.

              - Thank you, Brunskill. That'll be all. - Thank you, sir.

              Have a little more of this... rather disappointing brandy.

              - What's the matter with it? - I'd say it was a   -year-old Fine,

              indifferently blended, sir.

              With an overdose of Bons Bois.

              Colonel Smithers is giving the lecture,    .

              Gentlemen, Mr Goldfinger has gold bullion on deposit

              in Zurich, Amsterdam, Caracas and Hong Kong-worth £   million.

              - Most of it came from this country. - Why move it?

              The price of gold varies from country to country.

              If you buy it here at $   an ounce, you can sell it in, say, Pakistan at $    

              and triple your money.

              - If you have facilities for melting it down. - And has he?

              Apart from being a legitimate bullion dealer, Mr Goldfinger poses...

              No, that's not quite fair.

              Is, among his many other interests, a legitimate international jeweller.

              He's legally entitled to operate modest metallurgical installations.

              His British one is down in Kent.

              We've failed to discover how he transfers his gold overseas.

              And Lord knows we've tried.

              If your department can establish that it is done illegally,

              the bank can take action to recover most of his holdings.

              I think 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 quite agree.

              This is the only one we have from the Nazi hoard in Lake Toplitz.

              But there are undoubtedly others.

              Mr Bond can make whatever use of it he thinks fit.

              Providing he returns it, of course.

              It's worth £    .

              You'll draw it from Q branch with your equipment in the morning.

              Of course, sir.

              - Morning, Q. - Morning,    .

              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.

              - But it's never let me down. - M's orders,    .

              You'll be using this Aston Martin DB  with modifications.

              Now, pay attention, please.

              Windscreen-bulletproof. As are the side and the rear windows.

              Revolving number plates, naturally.

              Valid all countries.

              Here's a nice little 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'll be concealed in the car you're trailing while you keep out of sight.


              on the dashboard here.

              Audiovisual, range      miles.

              Ingenious, and useful too.

              Allow a man to stop off for a quick one en route.

              It has not been perfected out of years of patient research

              entirely for that purpose,    .

              And incidentally we'd appreciate its return, along with your other equipment.

              Intact, for once, when you return from the field.

              You'd be surprised at the wear and tear that goes on 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 some interesting modifications.

              You see this arm here?

              Now, open the top and inside are your defence mechanism controls.

              Smoke screen. Oil slick.

              Rear bulletproof screen.

              And left and right front-wing machine guns.

              Now, this one I'm particularly keen about. You see the gear lever here?

              Now, if you take the top off,

              you'll find a little red button.

              - Whatever you do, don't touch it. - And 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, Blacking? - Yes, sir.

              An old member has dropped by, sir. Same handicap as yours.

              - I wondered if you'd rather play with him. - Where is he?

              - Mr Bond. - Yes?

              This is Mr Goldfinger.

              - How do you do? - How do you do?

              - You can leave now. The first tee is clear. - Fine.

              - Hawker will caddy for you, Mr Bond. - That'll be splendid.

              Shall we make it a shilling a hole?

              - I'll take some tees. - Yes, of course.

              You must excuse Oddjob, Mr Bond.

              He's an admirable manservant

              but mute. He's not a very good caddy.

              Golf is not yet the national game of Korea.

              This meeting is not a coincidence.

              What's your game, Mr Bond?

              - My game? - You didn't come here to play golf.

              A       smelt from the Weigenhaler foundry at Essen.

              - Part of a smelt of    . - They vanished in      .

              When the Nazis were on the run.

              - Do you have access to more? - Yes, from the same source.


              - Two holes to go. - Yes, and all square.

              Then you have no objection to increasing the stakes?

              - No. What do you have in mind? - The bar of gold you have, naturally.

              - It's worth £    . - Oh, I'll stake the cash equivalent!


              Strict rules of golf?

              But of course.

              Bad luck, you're in the rough.

              What a pity. Here it is.

              No, it's not. He plays a Slazenger   .

              Strict rules of golf, Goldfinger. Five minutes are almost up.

              A lost ball will cost you stroke and distance.

              I'm still training him as a caddy.

              Successfully, too.

              Slazenger No.  .


              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, sir? - Yes, Slazenger  .

              Let's have a little fun with Mr Goldfinger.

              Like me to mark it or knock it in?

              Play it.

              - This for a half. - That's right.

              One to go, that will be the clincher.


              Did you switch 'em, sir?

              - Then we've got him. - If he doesn't notice the switch.

              - It's your honour, sir. - It's all right.

              Down in five.

              I have to sink this to halve the game, right?

              - You win, Goldfinger. - It seems I'm too good for you!

              You play a Slazenger   don't you?

              - Yes, why? - This is a Slazenger  .

              Here's my Penfold Hearts.

              You must have played the wrong ball on the   th fairway.

              We are playing strict rules, so

              I'm afraid you lose the hole and the match.

              She's a beauty. Phantom IIl, '   isn't she?

              - You are clever and resourceful, Mr Bond. - Thank you.

              Perhaps too clever. Twice our paths have crossed. Let's leave it at that.

              Didn't our first meeting convince you?

              I see. You're worried about me not giving you a return game.

              Both of us know perfectly well what we're talking about, Mr Bond.

              But I see that it is necessary to remind you.


              Many people have tried to involve themselves in my affairs.


              Remarkable. But what does the club secretary have to say?

              Nothing, Mr Bond.

              I own the club.

              I assume you want the cheque made out to cash.

              That would be perfectly satisfactory.

              Goodbye, Mr Bond.

              I believe this is yours.

              Can I have your attention, please?

              British United Air Ferries announce the final call

              for the departure of their VF    flight to Geneva.

              British United Air Ferries announce the departure of their VF    flight to Geneva.

              Mr Bond!

              I've got you booked on the next flight to Geneva, leaving in half an hour.

              - Thank you very much. - Right, sir.

              Discipline,    .


              Are you all right? Here, let me help you.

              - You know, 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 one of these before.

              - How could new tyres... ? - A defect of some kind, most likely.

              I'm so glad it's the car and not you.

              You don't look like a girl who should be ditched.

              Never mind that. Please take me to a garage.


              By the way, my name is Bond, Ja...

              As quickly as possible.

              - I'll take that. - Yes, of course.

              What's your name, by the way?

              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? - St Moritz.

              I didn't know there was ice there this time of the year.

              There's a garage.


              I've had an accident.

              How long will it take?

              Thank you.

              They say it'll take    hours to get new tyres. There's a hotel nearby.

              - Jump in. 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, Mr Ling.

              And art requires...

              In this case, the bodywork of my Rolls Royce is   -carat gold.

              We dismantle it here.

              Reduce the gold in this special furnace, which in turn...

              ...weighing approximately two tons.

              I make six trips a year to Europe in the Rolls Royce, Mr Ling.

              It would be wiser to suspend your other activities.

              Mr Ling, please 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.

              - Well, I want him alive. - I want him dead! He killed my sister!

              TM. Tilly Masterson.

              I knew your sister Jill. I know what he did to her.

              No, you don't! Let me go!

              - So why did you shoot at me? - I didn't. I was shooting at him!

              Well, you're a lousy shot.

              But somebody else around here isn't.

              Come on.

              Get in the car. I'll take care of him.

              Run for that bracken when I tell you.


              Good evening,    .

              My name is James Bond.

              And members of your curious profession are few in number.

              You have been recognised.

              Let's say by one of your opposite numbers, who is also licensed to kill.

              That interesting car of yours!

              l, too, have a new toy, but

              considerably more practical.

              You are looking at an industrial laser,

              which emits an extraordinary light, unknown 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 colour,

              its brilliance, its divine heaviness.

              I welcome any enterprise that will increase my stock,

              which is considerable.

              I think you've made your point. Thank you for the demonstration.

              Choose your next witticism carefully, Mr Bond. It may be your last.

              The purpose of our two encounters is now very clear to me.

              I do not intend to be distracted by another. Good night, Mr Bond.

              Do you expect me to talk?

              No, Mr Bond! 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,     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 organisation.

              Can you afford to take that chance?

              You are quite right, Mr Bond.

              You are worth more to me alive.

              Who are you?

              My name is Pussy Galore.

              I must be dreaming.

              I thought I'd wake up dead.

              Tranquilliser gun. Knockout shot.

              I see.

              I'm delighted to be here.

              And, by the way, where is here?

                    feet flying southwest over Newfoundland.

              That explains the humming.

              That means you're in Mr Goldfinger's Lockheed JetStar, heading for Baltimore.

              - And you're his guest. - I'm honoured.

              I never realised he enjoyed my company that much.

              I don't suppose it'll be all fun and games.


              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 just how personal is that?

              I'm a damn good pilot.


              Well, that's good news. By the way,

              - Where is our host? - He flew on 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'll be landing in Baltimore,

              our port of entry into the United States, in    minutes.


              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.

              Apologies quite unnecessary.

              Sydney, tell Mei-Lei to keep an eye on him.

              We'll be landing in    minutes.

              Do you want to play it easy... or the hard way?

              And this isn't a tranquilliser.

              Pussy, you know a lot more about planes than guns.

              That's a Smith & Wesson .  .

              If you fire this close, the bullet will pass through me and the fuselage

              like a blowtorch through butter.

              The cabin will depressurise and we'll be sucked into outer space together.

              If that's how you want to arrive, you're welcome.

              As for me, I prefer the easier way.

              That's very sensible.

              And there's so much going on around Mr Goldfinger,

              I wouldn't dream of not accepting his... hospitality.

              He'll be very glad to see you, too.

              You like close shaves, don't you?

              Washington, sir. On the green scrambler.

              - M here. - Leiter, sir.

              It's about     sir. We picked up his homer signal

              from Friendship Airport, Baltimore, where he's just landed.

              Baltimore? Nice of him to let us know.

              Last we heard, he was in Switzerland.

              He came in on a private jet, ex Geneva.

              Registered to our old friend Auric Goldfinger.

              I'm glad he's making progress. Keep an eye on him for us.

              Bluegrass Field, Kentucky, is their final destination.

              Don't charge in on him and spoil anything, will you?

              He's evidently well on top at the moment.

              - Mr Bond. - Of course.


              Any time.

              Thank you.

              Do mind your step, Captain.

              Just keep playing it easy.

              Mei-Lei, will you see everything's all right with Mr Goldfinger?

              And I'll see you surprisingly soon.

              - Talented chaps. - They should be. I trained them.

              Come on.

              You're a woman of many parts, Pussy.

              I believe the bourbon and branch water is rather splendid here in Kentucky.

              Well, now that we're both off duty, perhaps...

              Manners, Oddjob.

              I thought you always took your hat off to a lady.

              - You know, he kills little girls like you. - Little boys, too.


              - Dress rehearsal went like a dream. - Good.

              Your final briefing is tonight. That'll be all for now.

              Welcome to Auric Stud, Mr Bond.

              Lovely animal, isn't she?

              Certainly better bred than the owner.

              Show Mr Bond to his quarters, please.


              - Maybe we should just drop in on him. - He'll shout if he needs us.

              They're all here, Mr Goldfinger.

              Oh, yes! Thank you, Kisch.

              That guy Solo's gonna wear a hole in his shoes.

              Yeah, I like this!


              Goldfinger, why weren't we told New York and the West Coast were in on this?

              Look who's talking!

              I do not do business with Chicago.

              I thought we had a private business deal to settle.

              Now I find I'm attending a hoods' convention.

              Goldfinger, I made a delivery. Where is my money?

              - I made a delivery, too. - You all made the deliveries we agreed.

              And you owe me one million bucks.

              I owe each of you a million

              in gold bullion.

              So, pay!

              Gentlemen, you can have the million today.

              Or ten millions tomorrow.

              Did you say ten million?

              As soon as my bank opens in the morning.

              Banks don't open on Sunday.

              My bank will.

              What's with that trick pool table?

              - Cover him! - Hey, cover those doors.

              Turn those lights back on!

              What are you trying to pull, Goldfinger?

              There is no cause for alarm, gentlemen.

              I don't like being cooped up like this. What's that map doing there?

              This is my bank.

              The gold depository at Fort Knox, gentlemen.

              In its vaults are $    billion.

              The entire gold supply

              of the United States.

              Knock off Fort Knox!

              - Got a key or somethin'? - Of a kind.

              There are       troops stationed around there!


              And who's gonna say boo to them, Goldfinger?

              - What's going on here? - What is this?

              - The floor! - What is this? A merry-go-round?

              Man has climbed Mount Everest,

              gone to the bottom of the ocean.

              He has fired rockets to the moon.

              Split the atom.

              Achieved miracles

              in every field of human endeavour... except crime!

                The underworld will applaud for centuries!

                - Cut the commercial! - Get to the point!

                It's pointless. The depository's impregnable.

                - The joint is bombproof, electrified... - Bear with me, please!

                Fort Knox is a bank. Like any other.

                Larger, better protected perhaps, but nonetheless a bank!

                It can be... I think the expression is


                My plan is foolproof, gentlemen!

                I call it Operation Grand Slam.

                I have devoted     years of my life to it.

                Every detail has been scrupulously prepared.

                Every eventuality has been considered.

                We'll operate on a split-second schedule.

                Your organisation, Mr Midnight,

                brought a batch of these canisters across the Canadian border.

                They contain Delta  .

                - Delta  ? What's that? - An invisible nerve gas

                which disperses     minutes after inducing complete... unconsciousness

                for    hours.

                Tomorrow at dawn,

                the flying circus of my personal pilot, Miss Pussy Galore,

                will spray it into the atmosphere.

                Once the population, including the military, has been immobilised

                my task force, which Mr Strap and his people

                smuggled across the Rio Grande from Mexico,

                will approach Fort Knox in motorised equipment

                along Bullion Boulevard, which runs past the depository here

                and intersects with Gold Vault Road.

                This fence surrounding the depository,

                as Mr Strap reminded us, is electrified.

                It will be dynamited!

                My task force will then move to the main entrance and demolish it.

                How, may I ask?

                You made that possible, Mr Solo. By using your influence in shipping circles

                to bring through customs uninspected

                a consignment labelled machine parts.

                All that will then remain is to descend to the vaults where the bullion is stored.

                - I've heard enough. - Let him finish.

                If you have no objection... I'll take my money now.

                What's the matter, Solo? Too big for you to handle?

                We must respect Mr Solo's decision.

                Excuse me for a moment while I take care of him. Make yourselves comfortable.

                - How do we get it out? - That's the bit I wanna hear!

                Yeah, it'd better be good!


                Who taught you judo?

                The gun you took.

                The gun.

                The gun, of course.

                We must have a few fast falls together some time.

                Hey, Strap! He's got the right answers.

                You and me don't even have to be there. The boys can handle everything.

                Hey, they closed up the fireplace!

                - I don't like this! - What's going on here?

                The gas!

                Such a pity you did not choose to remain with the others, Mr Solo. However...

                Mr Bond, I thought you were resting in your quarters.

                They are delightful. But it's much too nice to stay indoors.

                I ran into Miss Galore and she suggested that we join you.

                Mr Solo, Mr Bond. Another of my distinguished guests.

                - Hello. - Leaving us so soon, Mr Solo?

                - He has a pressing engagement. - Yeah. I'd like to get started, Goldfinger.

                - Boy! - When you gotta go, you gotta go.

                My plane will get you to New York on time

                with your excess luggage.

                Allow me.

                My chauffeur's an excellent driver. You will be at the airport in a few minutes.

                Goodbye, Mr Solo. Some other time, perhaps?

                Happy landings, old boy.

                I found him under the model.

                Operation Grand Slam. I did enjoy your briefing.

                So did I.

                He's on the move.

                Slow down, don't crowd him.

                Are you blind or something? You missed the turn!

                They've turned to the right just ahead here somewhere.

                Where's this old pal of yours headed?

                Ten'll get you one, it's a drink or a dame.


                - Mechanical failure, maybe? - Unless he switched it off.

                Why would he do that?

                - Drive to the farm, it's all we can do. - Right.

                Your share of Operation Grand Slam will make you a very rich woman, my dear.

                Why else would I be in it, Mr Goldfinger?

                You'll retire to England, I suppose?

                No, I've spotted a little island in the Bahamas.

                I'll hang up a sign, "no trespassing",

                and go back to nature.

                - Yes, Kisch? - Two men in a car with binoculars.

                Touts looking for racing tips.

                There's another possibility, however.

                Kisch, ask Mr Bond to join us.

                We were right to spare Mr Bond's life in Switzerland,

                if those gentlemen are his friends.

                Let's convince them he needs no assistance.

                For their benefit, Pussy, let's make him as happy as possible.

                I suggest you change into something more suitable.


                Business before pleasure.

                He wants you.

                Mr Bond. Sit down, please.

                Mint julep?

                - Traditional, but satisfying. - Yes, thanks.

                Sour mash, but not too sweet, please.

                You disappoint me, Goldfinger.

                You know Operation Grand Slam simply won't work.

                And incidentally Delta   nerve gas is fatal.

                You are unusually well informed, Mr Bond.

                You'll kill       people uselessly.

                Ha! American motorists kill that many every two years.

                Yes, well... I've worked out a few statistics of my own.

                $    billion

                in gold bullion weighs       tons.

                   men would take     days to load it onto     trucks.

                At the most, you'll have two hours

                before the army, navy, air force, marines move in and make you put it back.

                Who mentioned anything about removing it?

                Is the julep tart enough for you?

                You plan to break into the world's largest bank

                but not to steal anything.


                Go on, Mr Bond.

                Mr Ling, the Red Chinese agent at the factory?

                He's a specialist in nuclear fission...

                But of course! His government's given you a bomb.

                I prefer to call it an atomic device.

                It's small but particularly dirty.

                - Cobalt and iodine? - Precisely.

                If you explode it in Fort Knox, the...

                ...entire gold supply of the United States will be radioactive for...

                ...   years.

                   to be exact.

                I apologise, Goldfinger. It's an inspired deal.

                They get what they want - economic chaos in the West.

                And the value of your gold increases many times.

                I conservatively estimate... ten times.


                But the atomic device, as you call it,

                is already, obviously, in this country.


                But bringing it to Fort Knox undetected

                could be risky. Very risky.

                On the contrary, Mr Bond. The risk is all on your side.

                If the authorities should attempt to locate it,

                who knows where it might be exploded?

                Perhaps the Polaris submarine pens at New London,

                Cape Kennedy,

                near the White House.

                But we are speculating idly. Operation Grand Slam will be successful.

                You will be there to see for yourself.

                Too closely for comfort, I'm afraid.

                Forgive me, Mr Bond,

                but I must arrange to separate my gold from the late Mr Solo.

                As you said, he had a pressing engagement.

                Very chic, Miss Galore. Don't you agree?

                Please entertain Mr Bond for me, Pussy.

                I'll join you both later.

                How about it, handsome?

                Don't you think it's time we got to know each other socially?

                The new Miss Galore.

                Where do you hide your gold knuckles in this outfit?

                I never carry weapons after business hours.

                Yeah? So you're off duty?

                I'm completely defenceless.

                So am I.

                That's my James!

                Beautiful place Goldfinger has here.

                Yes, I'm glad you're enjoying it.

                Too bad it all has to end tomorrow morning.

                He's quite mad, you know.

                Well, now. What do we have here?

                    seems to have the situation well in hand.

                Come on, I'm bushed. Let's get back to the motel.

                - You're quite a girl, Pussy. - I'm strictly the outdoor type.

                I'd like to think you're not in all of this... caper.

                Skip it. I'm not interested. Let's go.

                What would it take for you to see things my way?

                A lot more than you've got.

                - How do you know? - I don't want to know.

                Isn't it customary to grant a condemned man his last request?

                You've asked for this.

                Get up!



                Now let's both play.

                Pussy Galore to Champagne leader.

                Commence Rockabye Baby. Good luck!

                Speed:    .

                Wind check: westerly.

                Champagne leader to Champagne section. Commence dive... now.

                Ready for Rockabye Baby.

                Commence spray on countdown.


                four, three, two,


                Champagne leader to Grand Slam task force leader.

                The baby is asleep.

                I repeat, the baby is asleep. We're going home now.


                Good morning, Mr Bond.

                For once, you are exactly where I want you.

                - The bomb's here. - Let's get moving, Brigadier.

                - Right, Jack, move in. - Move in, commando tactics.

                Minimum offensive fire until I signal bomb has been neutralised.

                Minimum offensive fire until I signal bomb has been neutralised.

                Bomb disposal unit to accompany DOG.

                Goodbye, Mr Bond.

                Mr Ling, it is merely timing...

                He's one of them, so is the girl.

                I'll get her, you get the door open.

                We're trapped!

                The bomb... I'll take the fuse out.

                Don't be a fool!

                You can be a hero, I'm not!

                No, no!

                Keep going! Hurry up!

                What kept you?

                You OK, James? Where's your butler friend?

                He blew a fuse.

                Three more ticks and Mr Goldfinger would've hit the jackpot.

                - Did you get him? - Not yet, but he won't get far.

                - And Pussy? - She helped to switch the canisters.

                By the way, what made her call Washington?

                I must have appealed to her maternal instincts.

                Come on, James. Get aboard. You can't keep the President waiting.

                Special plane, lunch at the White House. How come?

                The President wants to thank you personally.

                - It was nothing, really. - I know that, but he doesn't.

                I suppose I'll be able to get a drink here.

                I told the stewardess liquor for three.

                - Who are the other two? - There are no other two.

                - Goodbye, Felix. - So long. Good luck.

                - Thank you, Brigadier. - Good luck.

                I'm glad to have you aboard, Mr Bond.

                Well, congratulations on your promotion, Goldfinger.

                - Are you going to the White House, too? - In two hours I shall be in Cuba.

                You have interfered with my plans for the last time, Mr Bond.

                It's very dangerous to fire guns in planes. I even had to warn Pussy about it.

                - By the way, where is she? - I will deal with her later.

                She is where she ought to be... at the controls.


                - What happened? Where's Goldfinger? - Playing his golden harp.

                It's no good.

                Oh, no, you don't!

                This is no time to be rescued.

Special help by SergeiK