All language subtitles for oikljh

("James Bond Theme")

(Bond) Where is he?

I shan't ask you politely next time.

Where is Blofeld?

Cai... Cai...

Cairo!

Cards.

Hit me.

(Bond) One chance.

Where can I find him?

Marie...

Ask Marie.

Who are you?

My name is Bond. James Bond.

Is there something I can do for you?

Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.

There is something I'd like you
to get off your chest.

(gasps)

(gagging)

Where is Ernst Stavro Blofeld?

(choking)

Speak up, darling. I can't hear you.

(man) We now come to
phase four: The nose.

In my opinion, the most difficult part
of a plastic transformation.

I want the operation done tonight.

- But, señor...
- There's no time left.

But, Señor Blofeld, this is
a most delicate procedure.

Tonight!

Keep the temperature
at precisely 80 degrees.

(door closes)

(Blofeld) Making mud pies, 007?

He would have been me
in a matter of days

if you'd given the poor fellow a chance.

Such a pity. I was dying to see
how the operation turned out.

Get his gun.

Hold it! Get your hands up.

Agh!

Kill him!

Welcome to hell, Blofeld.

(cat yowls)

(WOMAN SINGING)
Diamonds are forever

They are all I need to please me

They can stimulate and tease me

They won't leave in the night

I've no fear that they might

Desert me

Diamonds are forever

Hold one up and then caress it

Touch it, stroke it and then dress it

I can see every part

Nothing hides in the heart

To hurt me

I don't need love

For what good will love do me?

Diamonds never lie to me

For when love's gone

They lustre on

Diamonds are forever

Sparkling round my little finger

Unlike men, the diamonds linger

Men are mere mortals who

Are not worth going to

Your grave for

I don't need love

For what good will love do me?

Diamonds never lie to me

For when love's gone

They lustre on

Diamonds are forever, forever, forever

Forever

And ever!

Star of South Africa.

83.5 carats rough.

47.5 carats cut.

The Akbar Shah. 116 carats rough.

Are you paying attention, 007?

The Akbar Shah, 116 carats rough.

But surely, sir, there's no need
to bring in our section

on a relatively simple smuggling matter.

Sir Donald has convinced the PM
otherwise.

May I remind you, 007,
that Blofeld's dead.

Finished!

The least we can expect from you now
is a little plain, solid work.

Good morning, gentlemen.

- Sir Donald will see you now.
- Thank you.

Good morning, Sir Donald.

- This is Commander Bond.
- How do you do? Please sit down.

- Sherry?
- Not for me, thanks. Doctor's orders.

- Commander Bond?
- Yes, thank you.

You've been on holiday, I understand.

Relaxing, I hope.

Oh, hardly relaxing but most satisfying.

Cheers.

Pity about your liver, sir.
It's an unusually fine Solera.

- '51, I believe.
- There is no year for sherry, 007.

I was referring to the original vintage
on which the sherry is based, sir.

1851.

Unmistakable.

Precisely.

Tell me, Commander.

How far does your expertise extend
into the field of diamonds?

Hardest substance found in nature.
They cut glass. Suggest marriage.

They've replaced a dog
as a girl's best friend. That's about it.

Refreshing to hear there's one subject
you're not an expert on.

(Sir Donald) Perhaps I'd better give you
a brief background into our problem.

Eighty per cent of the world's diamonds
come from mines in South Africa.

Most are dug out of shafts
of diamond-bearing clay

at depths of up to 3,000 feet.

The whole process, from start to finish,
is subject to an airtight security system.

It's an essential precaution,

though the industry prides itself on
the loyalty and devotion of its workers.

Naturally the security measures
tend to ensure that loyalty,

as do the extensive amenities
and social services we provide.

There's a permanent staff
of doctors, nurses,

even dentists.

The whole process, from start to finish,
is subject to an airtight security system.

It's a necessary precaution,

though the industry prides itself on
the loyalty and devotion of its workers.

Next!

The scorpion.

Mother nature's finest killer, Mr Wint.

One is never too old
to learn from a master, Mr Kidd.

Dr Tynan? Good evening.

Who are you? And where is Joe?

Joe couldn't make it tonight.

I'm Mr Wint.

This is Mr Kidd.

Oh. I see.

(Kidd moans)

What's the matter with him?

It's my wisdom teeth.
I haven't had 'em out yet.

Would you mind having a look, Doctor?

Of course.

I'm not going to hurt you. Just open.

No, no. Open wide.

Agh!

Curious

how everyone who touches
those diamonds seems to die.

- Stop right there! Who are you?
- Dr Tynan sent us.

- Why didn't he come himself?
- He was taken sick.

Bitten by the bug.

He sent this for you.

If God had wanted man to fly...

He would have given him wings, Mr Kidd.

(Sir Donald)
No security system is perfect.

We've always accepted
a percentage of smuggling.

But over the past two years, despite all
our precautions, it's gone up alarmingly.

And none of the stones
have reached the market.

Sir Donald thinks someone's stockpiling.

Our concern is that someone might dump
them on the market to depress prices or...

Make you agree to perpetual blackmail.

Exactly.

What we need to know is

who the stockpilers are.

The letter U

is for umbrella.

We take it lest it rain.

We hope we shan't want it

till we're home again.

Two men to see you, missy.

(teacher) Gentlemen, Joshua.

I shan't be long, children.
Joshua is going to read you a story.

How nice to see you again!

- Where to this time?
- Amsterdam.

Amsterdam! Oh, how lovely!

I shall have to bring back some pictures
of the canals for the children.

Ask, and ye shall receive, Mrs Whistler.

Thus endeth the lesson
for today, gentlemen.

Several recent murders in South Africa
have complicated matters.

If they shut down operations
before we discover them...

It would be catastrophic for us

and for the government.

- I've always fancied a trip to South Africa.
- You're going to Holland.

For some time we've had our eyes
on a smuggler - Peter Franks.

He's due to leave for Amsterdam.

Do we know who his contacts are?

We do function
in your absence, Commander.

Passport, sir?

Ah, Mr Franks. There's a message
for you at Passport Control.

That door over there.
You can park outside.

Thank you.

(ship's horn)

Mr Franks...

Your passport is quite in order.

Anyone seeing you
in that outfit, Moneypenny,

would certainly be discouraged
from leaving the country.

What can I bring you back from Holland?

A diamond?

In a ring?

Would you settle for a tulip?

Yes.

(female guide) Ahead is one of
the oldest bridges in Amsterdam.

The Skinny Bridge.

It was built over 300 years ago

by two sisters who wanted
to visit each other every day.

Unfortunately they ran out of money. So
that is why it is called the Skinny Bridge.

On your right,
those beautiful old houses

can be seen in the paintings
of our famous painter, Rembrandt.

And now, ladies and gentlemen,

if you will look to your left
as we go down the Amstel, you can see...

Oh!

Mrs Whistler did want some pictures
of the canals for the children.

How kind of you, Mr Kidd.

The children will be so thrilled.

(woman) Yes?

Franks. Peter Franks.

Come up. Third floor.

(buzzer)

(easy-listening music)

Make yourself at home!
I'll be out in a minute!

Help yourself to a drink!

Is, er, Mr Case not at home?

There is no Mr Case. The T is for Tiffany.

Tiffany Case?

Definitely distinctive.

I was born there, on the first floor,

while my mother was
looking for a wedding ring.

I'm glad for your sake
it wasn't Van Cleef and Arpels.

Weren't you a blonde when I came in?

Could be.

I tend to notice little things like that.
Whether a girl is a blonde or a brunette.

And which do you prefer?

Providing the collars and cuffs match...

We'll talk about that later.

Let me have your glass.

I'll get you some ice.

(door shuts)

That's quite a nice little nothing
you're almost wearing. I approve.

I don't dress for the hired help.

Let's see your passport, Franks.

Occupation: Transport consultant?

That's a little cute, isn't it?

- I'll finish dressing.
- Oh, please don't. Not on my account.

I don't care much for redheads.
Terrible tempers.

But somehow it seems to suit you.

It's my own.

But it is in need of some soft lighting.

- I know a little restaurant...
- I never mix business with pleasure.

- Neither do I.
- Good!

Then save the cute remarks until after
you get the diamonds into Los Angeles.

- Well, where are they now?
- That's not your problem.

Your problem is getting them in.

- How much is there?
- 50,000 carats.

Well, at 142 carats an ounce, that's
an awful lot of ice. That won't be easy.

That's why you're being paid 50 grand.

What did you think it was going to be?
A pair of earrings?

And, Franks, for God's sakes,
come up with something original.

I've got to hand it to you, Q.
Quite ingenious.

Oh, an obvious little notion.
Thought it might come in handy.

Oh, M's been trying to get in touch with
you. That Peter Franks fellow's escaped.

Killed one of the guards
on the way up to London.

Hello?

Hello!

Are you there?

Oh!

- (Tiffany) Yes?
- Peter Franks.

Third floor.

- Guten Abend.
- Good evening.

Bitte.

- You are English?
- Yes, I'm English.

I speak English.

- Who is your floor?
- Three, please.

(lift starts)

Is he dead?

I sincerely hope so.

- Who is he?
- No idea.

This chap's been following me
all day today.

My God!

You've just killed James Bond!

Is that who it was?

Well, it just proves
no one's indestructible.

You don't kill James Bond and
wait around for the cops to arrive!

We've got to get those diamonds
out of here fast!

Where are they?

A little old lady dropped them by
yesterday morning.

Priceless.

I think we ought to let Mr Bond
carry the load from here on out.

It's funny.

All the things one wanted to say
to one's brother when it's all too late.

Let me assure you
of our deepest condolences.

Would you please board the aircraft?

- We were inseparable, you know.
- Please, Mr Franks.

(PA system) Lufthansa announce the
departure of flight LH450 to Los Angeles.

Please fasten your seat belts,
and no smoking until airborne.

Thank you.

They're both aboard. I must say,
Miss Case seems quite attractive.

For a lady.

(laughs nervously)

Lufthansa announce the arrival
of flight LH450 from Amsterdam...

- Mr Franks?
- Yes.

Follow me to Customs, please.

Peter Franks, Jerry.

Get some lunch, Jerry. I'll take over.

Death certificate, please, Mr Franks.

Well, well, well!
Felix Leiter, you old fraud.

On behalf of the CIA,
welcome to America.

Someone sent their brain trust
down to meet you.

I give up. I know
the diamonds are in the body,

but where?

Alimentary, Dr Leiter.

So long, James. Keep in touch.

(loudly) The rest of your luggage
has been cleared, Mr Franks. OK, fellas!

You, er, wanna sit
in the front, Mr Franks?

It's a lot smoother ride
in the front, Mr Franks.

Yes, I believe I'll sit in front.

The stiff - ahem! - Deceased back there.

Your brother, Mr Franks?

Yes, it was.

I got a brudder.

Small world.

(organ music)

Mr Franks, I'm Morton Slumber.

Please accept my heartfelt condolences
at this most difficult hour.

Well, he is heading
for a better world, Mr Slumber.

There is some consolation in that.

Now then, if we're ready
to begin the final journey...

(soulful choral singing)

- (singing stops)
- May his soul rest in peace.

Oh, yes. Amen.

If you'd come into my comfortable office,
we will bring you the urn.

I'm so happy you chose our half-couch,
hinged-panel, slumber-on casket.

I'm sure your brother
would have appreciated it.

I'm sure he did.

Please, be seated.

Ashes to ashes...

- Dust to dust.
- Exactly.

At a moment like this, I'm sure
you'd rather be left alone, for reflection.

Most thoughtful.

We've selected a private niche for your
brother in our Garden of Remembrance.

The one with the restful chartreuse
curtains and Angel's Breath gold trim.

I hope you'll find everything in order.

The arrangements
have been impeccable

so far.

Very moving.

Heart-warming, Mr Wint.

A glowing tribute, Mr Kidd.

(soulful choral singing)

(singing stops)

You dirty, double-crossin' limey fink!
Those goddamn diamonds are phonies!

No, don't tell me. You're St Peter?

Paste! Glass!
Where's the real stuff, Franks?

Where's the real money? You wouldn't
burn 50,000 real dollars, would you?

One last break.
Where are the real diamonds?

You get me the real money

and I'll bring you the real diamonds.

Where do you think you're goin'?

I hear that the Hotel Tropicana
is quite comfortable.

My condolences, gentlemen.

Hello, Felix.

Very comfortable.
But there's one problem.

I want the real merchandise -
rather quickly.

Q has just arrived with it.
We'll be up with them in the morning.

So I'd sit tight if I were you.
There's no sense in looking for trouble.

Just enjoy yourself, James.
I'm sure you know how.

Quite. I'll probably take in a show.

(show tune)

(laughter and applause)

(Shady Tree) How do you like me so far?

People say I have
the body of Rock Hudson.

If he ever finds out what I'm doin' to it,
he'll be madder than hell.

I call these girls my Acorns.

Actually, they're a gift from Willard Whyte,
who is upstairs right now

- playing Monopoly with real buildings.
- (laughter)

Tryin' to find Willard Whyte is like
tryin' to find a virgin in a maternity ward.

On behalf of the Whyte House,
I wanna let you folks know

you've been a lousy audience.

So get lost. See ya later.

(Wint) Shady Tree!

- Shady, we just adored your act!
- What taste, style!

And we have a few suggestions.

Critics and material I don't need!
I haven't changed my act in 40 years.

Hold it! Don't go in there.

We didn't get the real diamonds,
so we need Tree - alive.

That's most annoying.

- (man) Get down there!
- Crap. Boxcar, the loser.

Well, that's it, pussycat.
I shot the whole wad.

What do you say? Back to my place?

You're a nice person, Maxie.
Really, you are.

Why don't you go and take a nap?
And I'll see you next year.

(Bond) May I have $5,000?
No, make it $10,000.

$2,000 limit.

Is there some problem?

Mr Saxby.

Gentleman wants $10,000 credit
with a $2,000 limit.

My name is Franks.

Peter Franks.

Mr Franks' credit's good.

- Good luck to you, Mr Franks.
- Thank you. I'll have two stacks now.

Give the gentleman 4,000.

Thank you.

Hi! I'm Plenty.

- But of course you are.
- Plenty O'Toole.

Named after your father, perhaps?

Would you like some help?
On the craps, I mean.

That's very kind of you.

Coming out. Coming out.

Next shooter is a lady.
Ladies are lucky. For the lady.

Nine. Mark nine.

Seven, loser. The lucky lady craps out.

New shooter. Your shot, Mr F.

- Willard Whyte speakin'.
- Tree is dead. Turn on number two.

It's Peter Franks.

Hard ten. Ten's the number.

I'll take the full odds on the ten.
200 on the hard way.

The limit on all the numbers,
250 on the eleven. Thank you very much.

Say! You've played this game before!

Just once.

- Now what do we do?
- Don't bother me with details, Bert!

Just get me the diamonds!

You handle those cubes
like a monkey handles coconuts.

Thank you, gentlemen,
for such a sterling service.

Well, that's 50,000 dollars!

Minus $5,000 for you, leaves me
$45,000, and thank you very much.

Well, it was nothing, really!

You know something, Peter Franks?
You're a terrific guy!

A little weird, but a terrific guy!

Say, why don't we go someplace
and have a drink?

A drink?

If you'd like to come in, Plenty.

Oh, how pretty!
What a super place you have!

Mm.

Just give me one second, lover.

Good evening.

I'm afraid you've caught me
with more than my hands up.

Hey, what the hell is this?
A perverts' convention or something?

Hey, you can't do this to me!

Stop that! I've got friends in this towwwn!

Exceptionally fine shot.

I didn't know there was
a pool down there.

Let's get down to business.
I presume you've come for the real...

The real diamonds.

Good evening, Miss Case.

Sorry about your fulsome friend.

I'll bet you really missed something.

Well, the evening may not be
a total loss after all.

Why don't we talk a bit first?

First?

Well, what would you like to talk about?

You pick a subject.

- Diamonds?
- Good boy!

And you want to know where they are,
and whether I'm working alone or not.

So far, so good. Keep going.

- And if not, then with whom.
- (rustle of clothing)

So you can inform your superiors and

acquire the diamonds.

Peter!

I'm very impressed.

There's a lot more to you
than I had expected.

Presumably I'm the condemned man,

and obviously
you're the hearty breakfast.

Right?

You're not going to tell me
where the diamonds are, are you?

What diamonds?

Sooner or later you'll have to talk.

They'll make you.

At the very least, you'll never
get out of town alive.

I can solve that little problem.

It's lucky for me that I ran into you.

Fifty-fifty split.

You get the diamonds, I get us out.

Us?

Well, I can't very well help you
and then stick around.

We could be on a plane and
out of the country by tomorrow night.

Rio. Hong Kong.

I know a good tailor in Hong Kong.

Hong Kong.

All right. I'll get the diamonds,
you get the plane tickets.

No. The airport's too obvious.

A rented car should
do us fine for openers.

That's good thinking.

And since you're the one being watched,
I'll get the diamonds, you get the car.

That's very good thinking.

Oh, Peter...!

I have a feeling this is the beginning
of a wonderful relationship.

- Darling...
- Mm?

Where do I pick up the diamonds?

Well... When was the last time
you visited a circus?

Circus Circus proudly presents

the Flying Palacios!

(waltz)

- She's in the building.
- Right. Stand by.

James, next time, pick a contact point
when you're standing up.

- Felix, if she gives your men the slip...
- Relax. I have 30 agents down there.

A mouse with sneakers on
couldn't get through.

Give Maxwell his cue.

This is Quarterback.

Operation Passover, commence.

Quarterback to Tight End.

Operation Passover, commence.

Roger.

Well, she's on her way. So far, so good.

- Good luck, Felix. I'll see you later.
- Where are you going?

The car rental agency.

Our little rendezvous?

You don't actually think she'll show up?
That's a thousand-to-one shot.

No, more like even money.

Her devotion to larceny
versus my incomparable charm.

(barker) All right, kiddies!
Ready? Aim! Fire!

What did I tell you?
Didn't I promise you a winner every time?

There you are, young man.

Boys and girls, here we go again.
All you have to do is just take your gun...

Here we have a little lady,
here we have a little man,

and here we have a big lady.

You're a little out of your league,
aren't ya, sister?

Point the gun. You know what to do.

All ready? Get set.

Now hold it till I say go.

Go!

Come on! That's it!

Everybody point right at the clown.
A winner every time!

There we are! All right!
That's the way to do it!

Oh, look at that!
And we have another winner!

Annie Oakley on the end, huh?

Here we are. What an eye! What an eye!

(boy) Wait a second!
I saw the whole thing!

The machine's fixed!
Who's she - your mother?

Blow up your pants!

(boy) One win! She only had one win!

You're supposed to have 24
to win that dog!

Will you give it a rest, kid?

All right, boys and girls! Here we go!

(drum roll)

(trumpet fanfare)

(trumpeting)

(barker) Here for the first time, see
Zambora, strangest girl ever born to live.

She was captured
near Nairobi, South Africa,

and is believed to be part
of a cruel, inhuman experiment.

This beautiful girl
will be locked into a steel cage,

will change very slowly
into a ferocious 450-pound gorilla.

(Yiddish accent) Please be
very still, ladies and gentlemen.

We must have absolute silence

so we wouldn't disturb Zambora
from her transcendental state.

We must warn you that
in every scientific experiment

there's always a danger.

So keep in mind those curtains is an exit.

God forbid something should go wrong
over here, get outta here!

Now we start the transformation.

Very dangerous. Very quiet, please.

(electronic trilling)

(synthesised noises)

(man) Wake, my beauty, wake!

(growling)

(growling becomes ferocious)

(screams)

Hey, lady, not through there.
The other way.

Come on!

(car horn)

- No show?
- Felix, don't tell me you lost her?

We lost her.

Nice place you have here.

Take something off. Enjoy the sun.

You've got a lot of guts showing up here!

Letting me freeze my behind off
at a blackjack table for two hours

waiting for some nonexistent diamonds!

And what the hell
is my black wig doing in the pool?

- She's...
- Dead.

Supposed to be you.
The next link in the pipeline.

What are you talking about?

Poor Plenty must have
stumbled in here looking for you.

I don't believe you.

A dentist is dead in South Africa.
That little old lady in Amsterdam.

Shady got his last night.
They've missed me once.

And you're next.

- Now, who's your connection?
- You sound like a cop...

- Who's your connection?
- All I know is voices on a phone.

They got me this place and told me
to wait for further instructions.

You'd find it difficult to hear under water.

- Now, where's the stuff?
- Who are you?

You're not a cop
and you're not Peter Franks.

You're not the type to turn
the other cheek. Where is it?

(Tannoy) Eastern Airlines announce the
arrival of flight 112 from Los Angeles,

gate 7.

Thank you.

Fill it up, please.

It's Bert Saxby.

(Tiffany) Willard Whyte's right-hand man.

Do you see the top? The penthouse?

They say Willard Whyte hasn't
set foot out of there in three years.

And no one has seen him - no one.

- How much is that?
- Did you pay for this?

Cut him off.

Hey, Curly! What about my stamps?

Where are you going?
Are you mad? Let me by!

Stamps? You ain't got no gas yet!

- OK, so shove a coupla gallons in!
- Well, back it up.

(hoots horn)

Keep leaning on that tooter, Charlie,
and you'll get a shot in the mouth!

Come on, lady, move it!

OK, lady, you win, you win.

(horns hooting)

- Will someone move that car?
- Do what he says!

Hey! I wanted high-test!

Forget it, Curly!
You had your chance and you blew it!

OK, Professor.

- Hello.
- Hi.

- I haven't seen you here before.
- I'm Klaus Hergersheimer.

- New here?
- I've been here three years. G Section.

How are things in G Section?

Still the same old grind. You know.

Checking radiation shields
for replacement.

By the way, where's yours?

Er... I've been waiting a couple of days
for you guys to deliver them.

Gee, I'm sorry. You should have
given us a phone call.

Look, I've got one here.
Lucky for you, I carry spares.

You keep that on. You can't be
too careful about radiation.

Absolutely. I feel much safer with this on.

See you around.

(random bleeps)

Who are you? What do you want?

Klaus Hergersheimer. G Section.

Just, er, checking on radiation shields.

Now let me see. You are...

Professor Dr Metz. Our shields are fine!

Now get out!

I'm sorry. It won't take a moment but

I must verify.

Metz. How do you spell it?

M-E... Will you please leave,
you irritating man?

Doctor, there's no reason
to run down the little people.

G Section may not be as important
to the operation as you are,

but we do have our orders.

Dr Metz. Willard Whyte for you.

Right. Out, out.

(Metz) Hello, WW.

Yes, it's finally here.

Oh, quite enough for completion.

We'll be through shortly.

No. No problems at all.

Right.

- Now will you get out of here?
- Certainly, Doctor.

I've seen everything I need to see.

Thank you very much.

Hi. Sorry to bother you.
I'm Klaus Hergersheimer.

G Section.

Checking radiation shields?

(siren)

There he is! Behind the rock! Come on!

(man) What is this? Amateur night?

Stop him, Harry!

(alarm)

Get him off that machine. That isn't a toy.

Get out of that moon buggy!

(alarm still sounding)

It's gone berserk!

Hey, what do you think you're doin'?

That way!

- What happened? The diamonds...
- Get in the car!

If you see a mad professor
in a minibus, just smile!

- Fred, get the sheriff's office.
- OK.

Listen, drop me off at the next corner.
This is getting out of hand.

When you start stealing moon machines
from Willard Whyte,

goodbye and good luck!

Just relax. I have a friend named Felix
who can fix anything.

Is he married?

There goes that
son-of-a-bitchin' saboteur!

(siren)

Relax! You've got a friend
named Felix who can fix anything.

Unfortunately, so can Willard Whyte.

Why, you dirty...

(siren)

(car horn)

Come in, Larry. Larry?

Larry?

Did you get him, Larry?

I think Larry got him.

- Sheriff...
- Attaboy, Larry.

Come in. Larry?

Sheriff...

(siren)

I got you now.

Lean over.

(Tiffany) Darling...

Why are we suddenly staying
in the bridal suite of the Whyte House?

In order to form
a more perfect union, sweetheart.

James...

May I finally call you James?

What's going to happen to me?

You did talk to
your friend Felix about me?

Mm-hm.

Well, what did he say?

Something about 20 years to life.
Nothing important.

- 20 years to life?
- Relax, darling.

I'm on top of the situation.

Mr and Mrs Jones?

Yes, that's the name
on the register, Mr Leiter.

- What's the score with WW?
- Washington says no go.

- We sit still for now.
- Sit still?

And Miss Tiffany Case "Jones" has
a lifetime reservation at another hotel.

The kind the government runs.

I'm cooperating, Mr Leiter.

Really I am.

I can vouch for that.

Felix, this is not the real White House,
and he's not the president.

- Why don't we go and see him?
- The president I can get you in to see.

But until Washington believes
Whyte's a thief, that's the way it is.

In the meantime, I'm sure
you and "Mrs Jones"

can find some way to amuse yourselves.

And just to make sure you're not
disturbed, I have a man upstairs.

And Hamilton is right out here.

So long, James.

- Well, that's a switch!
- What's that?

The wolf being guarded
by the three little pigs.

(Bond chuckles)

I won't be long, darling.

Where are you going?

I'm just popping upstairs for a moment.

- Sixteenth floor?
- (lift man) No, lady. Starlight Lounge only.

OK, folks. Stand clear
of the doors. Here we go.

(clunk)

(lift man) Starlight Lounge to the left.
Express to street level only, folks.

OK. Stand clear of the doors. Here we go.

(man over speaker) Howdy, son.
We've been expectin' you.

You got any personal business
to take care of in there,

you go right ahead.

First, I suspect you're wearin' a hog leg.

Would you mind standin' up
and takin' it off?

Aw. Isn't that nice?

You are a pleasant fella.

Why don't you just come on in, son?

Relax. Make yourself comfortable.

That's good. Right on over there.

Good evening, Mr Bond.

Blofeld.

Good evening, 007.

Double jeopardy, Mr Bond.

You killed my only other double,
I'm afraid.

After his death, volunteers were
- understandably - rather scarce.

Such a pity. All that time and expense

simply to provide you
with one mock-heroic moment.

(phone rings)

Willard Whyte speakin'.

Yes, Governor. I got your message.

No, I'm afraid a personal appearance
is quite out of the question.

I'll send a deposition to the committee.

Thank you, Governor.

Well, that's a neat trick.

A voice box, Mr Bond.

Science was never my strong suit,

but the principle is easy enough.

Someone's voice patterns
and resonance

stored in a small oral-signature tape.

And a miniature, transistorized version
is installed in his neck.

Or is it his neck? I never can remember.

Anyway, no matter. We both sound alike.

My congratulations to you both.

Well. Nice little company.

Explosives, oil, electronics,
houses, aviation.

I've done rather well with it, too.

Tried to cut some of the fat off,
but Mr Whyte's a splendid administrator.

Damn thing runs itself.

I suppose you killed him.

Nothing so melodramatic.

I'm simply holding him
in cold storage, so to speak.

An insurance policy against any
outside interference with my plans.

The ideal kidnap victim.
No one's seen the man for five years.

Who'd miss someone
who's already missing?

How clever you are, Mr Bond.

Nice to see you haven't lost
that fine mental edge, 007.

Please don't get any foolish notions.

That missile is not a practical weapon.

- Well, it's hardly worth the effort.
- (cat meows)

After all, I wouldn't know
which one of you to kill.

We appreciate
your predicament, Mr Bond.

We deeply sympathise.

Right idea, Mr Bond.

But wrong pussy.

I do so enjoy our little visits, Mr Bond,

however potentially painful they may be.

But I'm afraid this one
has come to an end.

What do you intend to do
with those diamonds?

An excellent question.

And one which will be hanging
on the lips of the world quite soon.

If I were to break the news to anyone,

it would be to you first. You know that.

But it's late, I'm tired,

and there's so much left to do.

Good night, Mr Bond.

Well, go on, go on. It's merely a lift.

Or perhaps I should say "elevator".

In any event, I'm sure
you'll find it much more convenient

than mountaineering about
outside the Whyte House.

You press L, Mr Bond.

The word "lobby" begins with L.

(Bond collapses)

If at first you don't succeed, Mr Kidd...

Try, try again, Mr Wint.

(both snigger)

One of us smells like
a tart's handkerchief.

I'm afraid it's me.
Sorry about that, old boy.

(squeak)

(man) I don't mind the cockamamie
machine breaking down twice a day.

But why the hell does it always have to be
500 yards away from the nearest hatch?

All right, Charlie.
It's your turn to play hunchback.

Thank you very much.

I was just out walking my rat
and I seem to have lost my way.

Willard Whyte speakin'.

This is Bert.

We got a problem.

What's wrong with your voice?
Got a cold?

Never mind about that.

I just saw James Bond in the casino.

- That's impossible.
- Come and see for yourself.

Hey, listen.

If he's half the genius they say he is,
we're in for real trouble.

- Calm down, Bert.
- It's a cinch he's not working alone.

This place must be
crawling with agents by now.

- I think we should move Willard Whyte.
- Nonsense.

Mr Whyte is perfectly safe
at his own summerhouse.

It's on the ridge,
about ten miles out of town.

I'm a little surprised, Bert.
It's not like you to panic.

I just don't enjoy messing around
with a guy as tough as James Bond.

Never mind James Bond.
You get down to that house.

I'm afraid Mr Whyte has suddenly
outgrown his usefulness.

- Do it cleanly, Bert.
- Don't worry.

Just leave everything to me.

That ridiculous contraption
actually seems to work, Q.

You've surpassed yourself this time.

Not a bit of it. Made one of these
for the kids last Christmas.

Maxwell, James and I
will head for the house.

Get set to hit the penthouse
as soon as we find Whyte.

(Blofeld) Let me speak to Metz.

There's been a change.
Push all plans forward by 24 hours.

I'm joining you immediately.

Give me five minutes to get up there
and five minutes to find Whyte.

Are you sure you know
what you're doing?

Ask me again in ten minutes' time.

Tell Maxwell to stand by
to hit the penthouse.

Well, hi there!

I'm Bambi.

Good morning Bambi.

And I'm Thumper.

Is there something we can do for you?

I can think of several things offhand but

at the moment
I'm looking for Willard Whyte.

Oh, Willie.

Why, he's, er, right out there.

And, er, that's all there is to it?

Not quite.

First, we're gonna have a ball.

(grunts)

All yours, Bambi!

You're on again, Bambi!

Thumper...

Yah!

Hello, Felix.

Willard Whyte is about to be executed,

and guess who's giving
breaststroke lessons.

- Where the hell is Whyte?
- I haven't found out yet.

Still haven't found out.

Right!

(toilet flushes)

FBI?

- CIA?
- No.

British Intelligence, Mr Whyte.
James Bond.

I see you've met my friends,
Bambi and Thumper.

Yes, we did have a bit of a chat.

What the hell's happened to me
and what can I do about it?

Let's get out of here first
and I'll explain it to you en route.

- Tell Maxwell to hit the penthouse...
- (gunshot)

(machine-gun fire)

Aaargh!

Saxby.

- Bert Saxby?
- Yeah.

Tell him he's fired.

Hi there, Mr Q. Are you having any luck?

I'm being somewhat successful,
thank you.

Listen, Mr Q. I... I was wondering.

Have you heard any talk about me

from Felix or James?

No, I'm afraid not.

I guess I'm working
for the good guys now,

but I'm two steps away from
the slammer if they want me there.

I thought you might be able
to put in a good word.

That's unbelievable!

An electromagnetic RPM controller.

Been aching to give it a try. You see,

pressure on the case when
the desired symbols appear

causes the rotation of the cylinders to
stutter at the precise moment needed to...

(coins pour out)

Cab, lady?

Well, well, well.
Look what the cat dragged in.

I'm delighted to meet you, Miss Case.

I'd so dreaded the prospect of
making this tedious journey alone.

This way, Mr Whyte.

(Bond) It was right here.

About six feet high, with a solar panel.

- It had these aerofoils that seemed to...
- Draw it for me.

Was Dr Metz on your payroll, Mr Whyte?

No. But I heard of him.
Everybody in our business has.

The world's leading expert
on laser refraction.

A committed idealist to peace.

And how in the hell Blofeld got
his hooks in him, I will never know!

How did he get security clearance
to work here in the first place?

From you, sir. I talked
to you personally about it.

I even recognized your voice just now.

I'm sure I must've told you

not to keep the usual duplicate
microfilm records of the project.

Exactly, sir.

Tom, what did I tell you to do with this?

Send it to Vandenberg, sir.

Well, get 'em on the phone - now!

(phone rings)

Yeah?

You won't believe this.

- Willard Whyte for you!
- Wow.

- This is a real honour, sir.
- Shove your honour!

- Where's that satellite I sent down there?
- Blasted off 24 minutes ago, sir.

Perfect trajectory. All systems go.
We expect to enter orbit right on the nose.

- Wait. Something's happened.
- Just a moment.

- (electronic buzz)
- The scanners have gone crazy.

- Premature first-stage separation!
- It doesn't make sense!

Stand by to abort!

We can't control it, sir.

Abort it!

It's negative.

We can't. Something's taken over
the guidance system!

It's as if it had a will of its own.

And there's not a damn thing
we can do about it.

We're working on it.
I'll call you back, Mr Whyte.

Well, whatever it is,
your friend Blofeld's controllin' it now.

A vast supply of diamonds manipulated
by an expert in light refraction.

The first laser beam
was generated through a diamond.

And if old Metz deserves his reputation,

the power of that thing
could be incredible.

And Blofeld's got it.

- Where is it now?
- (man) Approaching North Dakota.

Alert Strategic Air Command.

Gimme an open line to SAC.

(PA system) Attention all personnel.
Attention all personnel.

We have a red alert. Stand by
for emergency procedure.

(phone rings)

Willard Whyte.

Yes, General.

One of our missiles just "accidentally"
blew up in North Dakota.

Whatever's happenin',
Mr Bond, has started.

- (Whyte) Is this your herd?
- Mr Whyte, phone call from Washington.

- Urgent.
- I'll catch it in the john.

- What about Blofeld?
- Not a trace.

We found a tunnel. We'll check it out.

- Where's Tiffany?
- Do you mind if we find Blofeld first?

Come on! Let's hit that tunnel!

Aaaarrghhhh!

(explosion)

Well, Washington just got word
from your friend with the cat.

Would you believe that this whole
damn country is bein' held for ransom

and we've got
till noon tomorrow to pay up?

So that's it. Well, I'm sure
you won't be alone.

An international auction,

with nuclear supremacy
goin' to the highest bidder.

Tell me, what does he need
to control that satellite?

A simple set of tapes
fed into a computer bank.

All he really needs is a building.

And these tapes? Large or small?

Conceivably any size.

From six inches to a cassette.

Assuming he's still using
your empire as a cover,

Blofeld could be anywhere on this map.

From Alaska to Florida.

From Maine to Oregon.

From Texas to Baja California.

Baja?

I haven't got anything in Baja!

(newsreader) There is still
no official explanation

of the apparent nuclear accidents
in North Dakota and Russia.

Presidential news secretary John Fenner
refused comment on a report

that an emergency meeting of
the Joint Chiefs of Staff is in session.

It is believed the United States and the
Soviet Union have assured each other

that no offensive action
has been taken by either nation.

Reports of another nuclear accident
in Red China are as yet unconfirmed.

Two more submarines have taken up
position not ten miles away.

Are those military aircraft
going to stand off forever?

What if they won't accept our ultimatum?
What if they attack?

Calm yourself, Metz. This farcical
show of force was only to be expected.

The Great Powers
flexing their military muscles

like so many impotent beach boys.

I deeply regret my threat to destroy
a major city unless they give in,

but the nuclear powers, like all bullies,
can only be intimidated by force.

- But how can you...
- They still have an hour left to reply.

One hour for both of us to achieve
our common dream: Total disarmament

and peace for the world.

- Sir, there's a single plane approaching.
- Range?

Two miles, and closing.

Stage One alert, please.

(controller) Command Centre.

All crew to Stage One.

(klaxon)

Up the top! Second platform!

There he is!

- (man) Aim!
- (Blofeld) Hold your fire!

All recovery crew personnel,
proceed to docking level and stand by.

Good morning, gentlemen!
The Acme Pollution Inspection.

We're cleaning up the world. We thought
this was a suitable starting point.

How disappointing! I expected
one head of state, at the very least.

Surely you haven't come
to negotiate, Mr Bond?

Your pitiful little island
hasn't even been threatened.

Search him from his toenails to the last
follicle on his head. Then bring him to me.

("The British Grenadier")

I do so hate martial music.

As usual, Mr Bond,
you were absolutely right.

You guessed correctly that that box
contained the satellite control tape

and you came aboard presumably
hoping to substitute this

for the real thing.

So sorry to have ruined
the line of your suit for nothing.

(Bond) Talking about lines,
which one did you use on Miss Case?

She has taken a reasonable attitude.

Like any sensible animal,
she's only threatening when threatened.

Well, it appears that
you're holding all the aces.

- Right down to the dragon lady here.
- Jealousy? From you, Mr Bond?

I'm flattered.

As La Rochefoucauld observed:

"Humility is the worst form of conceit."

I do hold the winning hand.

Why don't you let me take you
on a little tour of our facilities?

Your chance to see
the real tape once again.

(Tiffany) Can I tag along, Ernst?

I'd put something on
over that bikini first, my dear.

I've come too far
to have the aim of my crew

affected by the sight of a pretty body.

No word yet from anyone!

Hm. Only 12 minutes left.

Oh, well. I suppose
a little gentle prodding is called for.

As you see, Mr Bond,
the satellite is at present over

Kansas.

Well, if we destroy Kansas, the world
may not hear about it for years.

Perhaps New York.
All that smut and traffic.

It would give them a chance
for a fresh start.

Washington, DC. Perfect.

Since we have not heard from them,
they will hear from us.

- See to it, Metz.
- Er, Washington. Right.

And this, presumably,
is the control bank with the coded tape.

Right again, Mr Bond.

All satellites are controlled
by a coded tape.

The trick is, of course, to have the code.

Obviously.

It all seems so perfectly simple. I suppose
one just presses that and out it pops.

Put it back, Mr Bond.

Immediately.

Hi, Ernst.

Is Superman giving you any trouble?

Put it back very carefully.

You've suddenly
become tiresome, Mr Bond.

Target fixed! Commence countdown!

Ten minutes and counting!

Take him away and throw him in the brig.

And search him again, just to make sure.

Bitch!

Come on!

Your problems are all behind you now.

(guard) Stop him!

(controller) Nine minutes and counting.

I did it. I switched the tape in the machine.

You stupid twit. You put
the real one back in.

Come on, let's go!

A weather balloon!

- What do you think, Mr Leiter?
- That must be the signal.

There isn't a low-pressure area
within 200 miles of here. Let's go!

This is Charlie One to Squadron.

Charlie One to Squadron.
Ready all guns and proceed to target.

I repeat: Proceed to target.

(pilot) Roger, Charlie One. Out.

Come on, Bond. Get the hell off that rig.

(controller) Eight minutes and counting.

Unidentified aircraft approaching rapidly.
Range five miles.

But I... I don't understand!

- You said they wouldn't attack!
- The balloon was a signal.

The stupid fools must think
Mr Bond has accomplished his mission.

- Activate defences!
- Activate defences.

(klaxon)

(controller) Seven minutes and counting.

This is Charlie One.

Commence attack!

(gunfire)

Six minutes and counting.

Get them on the radio, Blofeld!

- Tell them we give up!
- Give up?

I've waited too long for this moment.

They'll pay dearly
for making a fool out of me.

(Metz) I see it all now.
You don't give a damn about peace!

- All you care about...
- Shut up, Metz.

Tiffany, my dear.

We're showing a bit more cheek
than usual, aren't we?

Take her below and
lock her up with Mr Bond.

What a pity. Such nice cheeks, too.

If only they were brains.

Destroy this, Metz.

(machine-gun fire)

(controller) Five minutes and counting.

(distant gunfire)

Four minutes and counting.

Tell them we surrender!
This is utter madness!

One more word, Metz, and I'll
have you shot! Get back to your post!

Prepare my bathosub immediately.

(machine-gun fire continues outside)

Three minutes and counting.

All systems interlock.

(Blofeld) Bathosub to crane.
Commence lift.

Two minutes and counting.

Power and breathing systems on.

Release catch is open.

Lower away.

Bathosub to crane! Lower away!

Wake up, man! Lower away!

You stupid idiot! You could've killed me!

Disengage!

Lower! Not up!

One minute and counting.

Blofeld to Command Centre!

Come in!

Blofeld to Command Centre!

Come in!

Damn you!

Command Centre, come in!

(controller) 40 seconds and counting.

Get the gun.

- Here!
- Shoot 'em!

Aaarghhhh!

Jump!

(controller) Ten... nine...

(horn)

(crowd cheers)

So long, James! I'll wire M
you're on your way home!

Don't tell him
which direction we've taken!

If you're havin' a good time,

let the captain know and
I'll have him steam around in circles!

James, there's something very important
I've been meaning to ask you

about us.

Oh?

I know in a relationship like ours, the
girl's not supposed to be the one to ask.

But I can't help it.

And please

think before answering.

That I promise.

- James...
- (knock at door)

There must be some mistake.
I didn't order anything.

No mistake, sir.

On the specific instructions and with
the compliments of Mr Willard Whyte.

Oysters Andaluz.

Shashlik.

Tidbits.

Prime rib en jus.

Salade Utopia.

(ticking)

And for dessert,

the pièce de résistance,

la bombe surprise.

Mmm!

That looks fantastic! What's in it?

Ah, but then there would be
no surprise, would there, madame?

- If madam would care to be seated.
- Thank you.

This will just take a moment,
and then we will leave you in peace.

Wine, sir?

Mouton Rothschild '55.

- May we begin?
- (Bond) Please do.

A happy selection, if I may say.

I'll be the judge of that.

That's rather potent.
Not the cork - your aftershave.

Strong enough to bury anything.

But the wine is quite excellent.

Although, for such a grand meal,
I had rather expected a claret.

(Wint) Of course.

Unfortunately, our cellar
is rather poorly stocked with clarets.

Mouton Rothschild is a claret.

And I've smelt that aftershave before.
And both times I've smelt a rat.

(Kidd cries out)

(screams in agony)

(squeals)

Whoaaaah!

Well, he certainly left
with his tails between his legs.

Oh, James!

Oh, yes. What were you about to ask me?

James...

How the hell do we get
those diamonds down again?

(WOMAN SINGING)
Diamonds are forever

Sparkling round my little finger

Unlike men, the diamonds linger

Men are mere mortals who

Are not worth going to

Your grave for

I don't need love

For what good will love do me?

Diamonds never lie to me

For when love's gone

They lustre on

Diamonds are forever, forever, forever

Forever

And ever!

English - US - SDH