‘Good afternoon, Blacking. All set?’ The voice was casual, authoritative. ‘I see there’s a car outside. Not somebody looking for a game, I suppose?’
‘I’m not sure, sir. It’s an old member come back to have a club made up. Would you like me to ask him, sir?’
‘Who is it? What’s his name?’
Bond smiled grimly. He pricked his ears. He wanted to catch every inflection.
‘A Mr Bond, sir.’
There was a pause. ‘Bond?’ The voice had not changed. It was politely interested. ‘Met a fellow called Bond the other day. What’s his first name?’
‘James, sir.’
‘Oh yes.’ Now the pause was longer. ‘Does he know I’m here?’ Bond could sense Goldfinger’s antennae probing the situation.
‘He’s in the workshop, sir. May have seen your car drive up.’ Bond thought: Alfred’s never told a lie in his life. He’s not
