Goldfinger [antikvár]

1 The End of One Job The job in Mexico City was finished. No more hash would go across the Atlantic from that drug ring. Bond had blown up their factory and had handed over the gang to the police. It had been a dirty job to do with a dirty game. Bond had changed his hotel for the last night before flying out. He wanted to keep out of the way of any friends of the gang who might want revenge. He was on the way back to the hotel when the Mexican stopped him. The man's eyes were bright with drugs. 'You lilce pictures?' he said to Bond. His hand went inside his coat, but Bond knew it was not for pictures. When the hand came out holding a knife, Bond was ready. As the Mexican's knife went for Bond's throat, Bond moved swiftly. His right arm went across and banged the Mexican's knife arm ofi-target. The way was open for Bond to give a short-arm jab. The heel of his hand had come up and under the man's chin with terrific force. As the Mexican's head went up, Bond had drawn back his right hand and smashed sideways at the man's throat. It was a killer blow. With the fingers straight and stiff, the edge of the hand smashed across the Adam's apple. Bond's first blow might have broken the man's neck. If it had not, the man was certainly dead before he hit the ground. Bond looked up and down the road. There was nobody about. He picked up the body and laid it against the wall in the shadow. Then he brushed his hands against his clothes.