— I read your obituary of me.
— And?
— Appalling.
— Yeah, I knew you'd hate it.
Gareth Mallory: — No, what we call this is a retirement planning. Your country has the highest respect for you and your many years of service. When your current posting is completed, you'll be awarded to JSMG with full honors. Congratulations.
M: — You are firing me?
Gareth Mallory: — No, ma'am, I'm here to oversee the transition period leading to your voluntary retirement in two months' time.
This isn't a personal vendetta, 007. It's an assignment, like any other and if you can't treat it as such, coldly and objectively, 008 can replace you. You've hardly distinguished yourself, have you? You were supposed to observe Mr. Goldfinger, not borrow his girlfriend. Instead of that, Goldfinger goes off to Europe, and it's only by the grace of God, your friend Leiter, and my intervention with the British embassy in Washington, that you're not in the custody of the Miami Beach police.
— M here.
— Leiter, sir. It's about 007, sir. We picked up his homer signal. It's monitored into Friendship Airport, Baltimore, where he's just landed.
— Baltimore? Nice of him to let us know. Last we heard, he was in Switzerland.
— He came in on a private jet, ex-Geneva, registered to our old friend, Auric Goldfinger.
— Well, I'm glad he's making progress. Keep an eye on him for us.
— Their flight plan gives Blue Grass Field, Kentucky, as their final destination.
— Don't charge in on him and spoil anything, will you? He's evidently well on top at the moment.
