Le Chiffre is still hitting and seems to be winning. A pile of 10,000-speckled copper chips was scattered in front of him. Discreetly under his large left arm was a large stack of gold foil, each worth half a million francs. Retro Hockey peeing on the seat is like hitting the post on an empty net poster. Bond watched the dramatic and strange profile for a moment, then shrugged, dismissed the idea of relief, and walked away. The barrier around the safe is as high as the customer’s chin; The cashier, usually nothing more than an ordinary banker, sat on a stool and thrust his hands into the pile of banknotes and his chips.
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