JAMES BOND
FACT FILES

GRANT: Keep still. All right then, get up on your knees. Put your hands in your pockets. Keep ‘em there. 

JAMES BOND: Red wine with fish...well that should have told me something. 

GRANT: You may know the right wines, you’re the one on your knees. How does it feel old man? 

JAMES BOND: Old man? Is that what you chaps in Smersh call each other? 

GRANT: Smersh? 

JAMES BOND: Of course...SPECTRE. Then it wasn’t the Russian’s show at all. You’ve been playing us off against each other, haven’t you? And it was SPECTRE who killed the Russian agent in the Mosque. You? 

GRANT: Uh huh. 

JAMES BOND: Kerim and the other man? 

GRANT: Uh huh. 

JAMES BOND:  And Nash? 

GRANT: I don’t mind talking. I get a kick out of watching the great James Bond finding out what a bloody fool he’s been making of himself. We’re pros mister Bond. We sweated your recognition code out of one of your men in Tokyo before he died. I’ve been keeping tabs on you. I’ve been your guardian angel. Saved your life at the gypsy camp. 

JAMES BOND:  Oh yes. I’m much obliged. 

GRANT: We were keeping you alive until you could get us the Lektor. 

JAMES BOND:  So you had me deliver it on a plate. It’s brilliant. Go on, I’m fascinated. 

GRANT: Now that we’ve got it you and the girl are expendable. Between here and Trieste. 

JAMES BOND: The girl? Isn’t she working for SPECTRE too?

GRANT: No. She thinks she’s doing it all for Mother Russia. She takes her orders from Colonel Klebb. 

JAMES BOND: Rosa Klebb’s Russian, head of operations for Smersh. 

GRANT: Was. Klebb works for SPECTRE now. The girl doesn’t know that. 

JAMES BOND: Well then why kill her? 

GRANT: Orders. That’s only half of it, old man. Here’s a roll of film. She’ll have this in her handbag. And on you, they’ll find this letter. It’s from her, threatening to give the film to the press unless you marry her for helping you get the Lektor.

JAMES BOND: What film? 

GRANT: Taken in the bridal suite at your hotel. Something else the girl didn’t know about – or you! 

JAMES BOND: Must be a pretty sick collection of minds to dream up a plan like that. 

GRANT: You see the headlines? ‘British Agent Murders Beautiful Russian Spy Then Commits Suicide’. 

JAMES BOND:  Tell me? Which lunatic asylum did they get you out of? 

GRANT: Don’t make it any tougher on yourself. (Grant backhand slaps Bond hard round the face). My orders are to kill you and deliver the Lektor. How I do it’s my business. It’ll be slow and painful. 

JAMES BOND: How much are they paying you? 

GRANT: What’s it to you? 

JAMES BOND: We’ll double it. 

GRANT: Your word of honour...as an English, gentleman? The first one won’t kill you, not the second, not even the third. Not till you crawl over here and you kiss my foot! 

JAMES BOND: How about a cigarette? 

GRANT: Not a chance. 

JAMES BOND: I’ll pay for it. 

GRANT: What with? 

JAMES BOND: 50 gold sovereigns. 

GRANT: Where are they? 

JAMES BOND:  Up there in my case? 

GRANT: You show me. 

JAMES BOND:  Here you are. What about that cigarette? 

GRANT: Throw ‘em down there. Any more in the other case? 

JAMES BOND: I should imagine so, it’s a standard kit I’ll have a look. 

GRANT: Put your hands back in your pockets.

(Grant opens the case and the Q Branch teargas cartridge explodes in his face. All hell breaks loose in one of the all-time great screen fight scenes.)