Francisco Scaramanga [after Bond has broken out of Hai Fat's karate school]
What do they teach at that school? Belly dancing?
HF Hai Fat
I find nothing remotely amusing about Mr. Bond's escape.
Scaramanga You underestimated him.
F Fat
Even my influence does not extend into the British Secret Service. I shall lie low too. I do not intend to jeopardize a project in which I have invested half my fortune, when it is ready to yield billions.
Scaramanga Where will you hide out?
F Fat
That is not your concern. Now, take this... [he hands Scaramanga the SOLEX agitator] Return it to the plant and don't leave there without my permission. [he doesn't see Scaramanga assembling the Golden Gun] 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 pay you to interfere in my affairs. Is that clear?
Scaramanga Yes, very clear.
F Fat
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 has seen me. That's the problem.
Scaramanga That's no problem. [shoots Fat dead, then disassembles the Golden Gun as one of Fat's aides comes to investigate]
Scaramanga Mr. Fat has just resigned. I'm the new Chairman of the Board. [goes outside, looks over at Fat's family tomb] He always did like that mausoleum. Put him in it.
Francisco Scaramanga When I was a boy, I was brought up in a circus. My only real friend was a huge, 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 drunken handler came along and emptied his gun into his eye... I emptied my stage pistol into his!
[as he makes his monologue, Bond notices the SOLEX and orders peanuts from a seller, then gives the SOLEX to him by sleight of hand]
An eye for an eye. Nut?
Scaramanga You see, Mr. Bond, I always thought I liked animals. Then I discovered that I liked killing people even more. [Bond looks agape at him with the last few words]
Francisco Scaramanga [Goodnight enters the dining room, wearing a bikini. Bond is surprised]
Ah, Miss Goodnight.
Aren't we a little overdressed, Goodnight?
Scaramanga I like a girl in a bikini. No concealed weapons. [shows Goodnight to her chair] Miss Goodnight, please. Mr. Bond. [Bond sits next to her as Nick Nack places a tray on the table] Now, let's see what Nick Nack has for us. [he lifts the tray's lid] Ahh- mushrooms. [As he sits down across from Bond, Goodnight takes a hasty look at the mushrooms and glances meaningfully at Bond.])
G Goodnight
The fried mushroom looks terribly interesting.
Yes, I noticed that- I'll get around to it later. [Scaramanga subtly places several pieces of his Golden Gun on the table as Nick Nack pours wine] Having fun in the sun, Goodnight?
G Goodnight
[sarcastically]
Yes- I could stay here forever. [Scaramanga watches them]
[tastes the wine, Scaramanga gives him an inquiring look]
Mmm, excellent- slightly reminiscent of a '34 Mouton.
Scaramanga [nods, pulls out a gold-plated pen that doubles as the barrel of the Golden Gun]
Then I must add it to my cellar. [writes it down]
You live well, Scaramanga.
Scaramanga At a million dollars a contract, I can afford to, Mr. Bond. You work for peanuts, a hearty well done from Her Majesty the Queen, and a pittance of a pension. Apart from that, we are the same. [raises his glass in a toast] To us, Mr. Bond. We are the best. [he and Goodnight drink, but Bond does not]
[coldly]
There's a useful four letter word... and you're full of it. [Scaramanga sets down his wine, his expression cold] When I kill, it is on the specific orders of my government. And those I kill are themselves killers.
Scaramanga Ha! [takes the various pieces of the Golden Gun and moves them into his lap, out of sight] Come, come, Mr. Bond, you disappoint me. You get as much fulfillment out of killing as I do, so why don't you admit it?
I admit killing you would be a pleasure.
Scaramanga [smirks]
Then you should have done that when you first saw me. But then, of course, the English don't consider it sporting to kill in cold blood, do they?
Don't count on that. [reaches for his gun, but Scaramanga raises his Golden Gun, which he has surreptitiously put together.]
Scaramanga [quietly]
... I could have shot you down when you landed, but that would have been ridiculously easy. [Bond slowly moves his hand away from his pistol] You see, Mr. Bond, like all great artists I want to create one indisputable masterpiece. The death of 007 -mano a mano, face to face- will be mine.
You mean, stuffed and displayed over your rocky mantelpiece?
Scaramanga It's an amusing idea, but I was thinking more in terms of history. A duel between titans... my golden gun against your Walther PPK. Each of us a 50-50 chance.
Scaramanga I only need one.
...Sounds a bit old-fashioned, doesn't it? Pistols and dawn, that sort of thing?
Scaramanga Indeed it is, Mr Bond. But it still remains the only true test, for gentlemen.
I doubt you'll qualify on that score. However, I accept. As soon as I finish this delicious lunch Nick Nack has prepared for us.
