Merry Christmas, 007.

Merry Christmas, 007.

I'm Sir Hilary Bray.

Oh, no, no, no, Mr Bond.

Respectable baronets from the college of heralds do not seduce female patients in clinics.

On the other hand, they do get their professional details right.

The Bleuchamp tombs are not in the Augsburg Cathedral as you say, but in the St. Anna Kirche.

Sir Hilary Bray would have known.

A small slip.

Takes more than a few props to turn 007 into a herald.

It'll take more than cutting off your ear lobes, Blofeld, to turn you into a Count.

I may yet surprise you, but I'm afraid that you have no surprises left for me.

I know all about your mission, Mr Bond.

Your colleague: such a keen climber, such a brilliant conversationalist. 

Before he left us.

You realise he reported where I am.

I doubt that.

In any case, no one's going to come to your rescue.

In a few hours, the United Nations will receive our Yuletide greetings.

The information that I now possess the scientific means to control, or to destroy, The Economy of The Whole World.

People will have more important things to think of than you.

If they believe your threat.

Oh, they will. In any case, I have prepared a demonstration.

Remember that disagreeable outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease in England last summer?

I shall instruct them, in very convincing terms, exactly how I arranged that.

And my capacity has improved since.

Allergy vaccines?

Bacteria.

Bacteriological warfare.

With a difference.

Our great breakthrough since last summer has been the confection of a certain Virus Omega.

Infertility.

Total Infertility. 

In plants and animals.

Not just disease in a few herds, Mr. Bond or the loss of a single crop.

But the destruction of a whole strain for ever, throughout an entire continent.

If my demands are not met, I'll proceed with the systematic extinction of whole species of cereals and livestock all over The World.

Including, I suppose, the human race.

I don't think, do you, Mr Bond, the United Nations will let it come to that.

Not after their scientists analyse a small sample of Virus Omega they have received.

Epidemics of Sterility.

Nothing is Born. 

No seed even begins to sprout.

They'll find an antidote.

Of course.

If I give them enough time.

They'll have time. 

Once they're warned, you'll have a problem dispensing the stuff.

That problem has already been solved.

I have been training my own special "Angels of Death".

Those girls?

Those girls. And many others like them.

But exactly how?

That will remain My Secret.

And how many hundred millions do you want for your services this time, Blofeld?

This time?

This time The Price is of another kind. 

You'll be even more amused when you know what.

Meanwhile, I will keep you here as My Guest.

You'll be useful in helping to convince The Authorities that I Mean What I Say and I'll Do What I Claim.

Come, let me show you to your new quarters.

You're likely to be with us for some time, Mr Bond.

So first, a little therapy to soothe your restless nature.

Oh, poor fellow. 

He was restless, too.

You perverse British, how you love your exercise.

Every year, dozens of amateur climbers, they wind up in the same predicament.

A kind of waxwork show for morbid tourists.

Dear, dear me.

Now, now, now, now, Mr Bond, you must learn to be absolutely calm before we can accept you back into polite society.

Presents.

These are for us.

Going-away presents. From the Count himself,

in appreciation.

- I want to open mine now. - Oh, no.

It is more fun to open them all together, yes?

Please sit down. We will wait for the others.

Look, pressies.

Eggnog on Christmas Eve, just like home.

It is a treat for the going-away party.

- Your very good health, my dears. - Cheers.

It has been so nice to cure you.

It has something special in it for the holy night celebration.

And now you're going on a journey. A journey home.

But first you must rest for a while.

Rest.

Rest.

Rest.

I will tell you when. And I will tell you how.

But it must be Our Secret.

Yours and Mine. Our Secret.

And after you've done what I teach you, will you forget it?

Forever.

Forever.

Forever.

And now you may open your eyes again.

Each of you has been given a present.

Such a prettily wrapped present.

Now is the time to open them. Open them.

You see?

They're beautiful and you're longing to know what is inside.

You may use anything but the atomiser,

which you must never touch, never,

until I tell you how and where to use it.

Open the compact.

Adjust the volume control.

Every night at exactly 12 o'clock you must be alone so that you can switch on that receiver and listen for my voice.

I'll tell you what to do I will tell you when and I will tell you how.

After you've heard what I say, push the mirror back to conceal the receiver again.

Push it back now.

Then close the case.

Now rest again. 

Rest.

Rest.

In a few minutes you will wake up.

You will not remember what I've just told you

until you return home.

Help.

Please, girls, we are in a hurry.

Merry Christmas.

Maybe you should have been gift-wrapped.

Quick, The Englishman is taking off.

The Englishman has fled.

Flare.

He's making for the village.

All right. We'll head him off at The Precipice.

Idiot.

Help.

Goodbye, girls. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

Merry Christmas.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye

Bye.

The Englishman fled to The Village.