Like Sean Connery, the weaponized Aston Martin DB5 of "Goldfinger" fame is as handsome as ever. Each can still draw a crowd 42 years after the Great Scott first drove the world's coolest spy car in the third installment of the seemingly immortal James Bond movie series. The difference is that Sean Connery has all his original parts (as far as we know). And Connery hasn't disappeared to be replaced by his stunt double (as far as we know) -- or worse, replaced by his lifesize-cardboard likeness, known in the lifesize-cardboard-likeness industry as a standee.

Replaced, however, just about describes what's happened to the original "Goldfinger" DB5 over the last four decades. You may have heard the car was stolen a few years ago and never recovered. True. If you're wondering, then, what it was RM Auctions sold recently for $2.1 million, keep reading.

In movies, as in life, things are seldom exactly as they appear. Single movie scenes often are assembled in many different shots. Thus, no fewer than four Bond DB5s were created: two for use in filming (loosely dubbed the "star" and "stunt" cars), and, later, two more for promotional work, which never appeared on screen.

Pre-Goldfingering, the original contraption-covered star car (see sidebar) began life in 1962 as a fifth-series DB4. Aston Martin reengineered it as the DB5 prototype and used it as a test mule. After much cajoling, Aston Martin agreed to lend this one-of-a-kind machine to EON Productions to be modified for "Goldfinger," because the movie company couldn't afford the #4500 to buy one. This now-DB5 was delivered to Pinewood Studios in England in January 1964, where special-effects master John Stears went to work.

After Stears's crew added 300 pounds of defensive and offensive weaponry, quadrupling the car's sticker price and halving its agility, the director decided it needed a stand-in for the fast-driving scenes. Enter another loaner, the stunt car, a production DB5 with none of Q's "minor modifications" that made the star car so memorable.

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When "Goldfinger" opened in September 1964, the car, like the movie, was a monumental hit. Flooded with requests for the DB5 to appear at events, Aston Martin decided to double its publicity options. As soon as the stunt car completed its scenes for the follow-up film, "Thunderball," it went under the knife and emerged with foe-fighting finery nearly identical to that of the original star car.

The success of "Goldfinger" meant EON Productions could now afford to buy its own Aston Martins for a change. For the "Thunderball" premier in 1965, EON commissioned two more tarted-up DB5s -- standees, if you will -- for the U.S publicity tour. The fleet of four Bondmobiles could now blanket the globe, brandishing enough working weapons to thwart any evil scheme.

In 1968, in one of the more boneheaded moves in all of autodom, an anonymous Aston functionary decided to strip the star car of all movie gags, spiff it up, and sell it as a used DB5. One year later, the buyer, Gavin Keyzar, noticed that the other, supposedly lesser, but still armed Bond cars were being passed off as the real thing and selling at high prices. So he installed similar weapons of his own design on the star car in an effort to pump up its value.

Time for a recap. By 1970, there was the original DB5 prototype -- star of two movies, its gadgetry removed and later replaced with owner-derived prosthetic versions. Then came the production DB5 stunt car -- driven like hell in two movies and surgically altered afterward to resemble the star machine. Plus two DB5 P.R.-mobiles never used in the movies, but with all the right parts in all the right places.

Each of these cars had some element of authenticity, with varying degrees of importance and provenance. But does anyone care?

The public didn't -- and still doesn't -- seem to: People still light up whenever they get close to any of them. The car's owners certainly cared. And they were not amused.

A 1981 Wall Street Journal article chronicled the battle among three of the four cars' owners, Jerry Lee, Richard Losee, and Frank Baker, all of whom claimed they had the Bond car -- by which they meant the original star car. The prize wasn't just a question of pride, but also money, presuming the Bond car would be more valuable than just a Bond car.

Lee asked Aston Martin to authenticate which car was what. The company identified them by their chassis numbers and settled the dispute: Losee was the winner with the star car; Lee came in second with the stunt machine; and tied for third with the standee P.R. cars were Baker and the Smokey Mountain Car Museum in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee (which hadn't entered the authenticity fray).

Despite the clarification, many questions remained, at least in the minds of true Bond maniacs. The history trail was so faint that Brit Dave Worrall spent six years of his life getting the story and the cars straight for his 1993 book "The Most Famous Car in the World: The Complete History of the James Bond Aston Martin DB5. "* To him we are indebted for much of the modification minutiae presented here. But where Worrall's book leaves off, another tale begins.

The last chapter includes a photo of Richard Losee handing the star car's keys to Robert Luongo. Luongo had just placed the $250,000 winning bid for the car at a Sotheby's auction in 1986, acting as an agent for the car's new owner, Florida businessman and pop culture collector Anthony V. Pugliese III.

Luongo, also Pugliese's brother-in-law, began an aggressive campaign to promote his DB5, placing it at dozens of museums, auto shows, and other venues and carefully documenting each exhibition.

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Armed with a new, mid-1990s appraisal, Pugliese approached Grundy Worldwide, an insurance agency specializing in classic cars. Grundy accepted the appraisal and executed a policy with Chubb Insurance for 80 percent of the appraised value, which in this case amounted to $4.2 million.

One night in June 1997, Pugliese's star DB5 was stolen from the Boca Raton airport hangar where it was stored. The thieves tore a gate off its hinges with a truck and a chain, cut the hangar's alarm wires, wrapped the chain around the Aston's axle, and dragged it out.

Skidmarks testify that our hero resisted mightily, but the evil-doers prevailed. The wake of pavement rubber ended where a light cargo plane probably was parked.

Planes small enough to use that airport have a limited range. The Boca Raton police and Chubb immediately checked all airports within that range to see if any vehicle had been offloaded or transferred. Nada.

Nearly everyone involved in the case believes the car is now an artificial reef about 75 miles off the Florida coast. But that's pure speculation, and the crime remains unsolved. Finding no evidence that the car was transferred from the plane wasn't the same as finding evidence that it was dumped in the ocean.

Then there was the question of motive. The obvious one -- insurance fraud -- wasn't the only possibility. By then, Robert Luongo and Anthony Pugliese were no longer brothers-in-law and had been at odds about how to deal with the car. Was it jealousy? Revenge? Spite? Or an unrelated, obsessed collector who wanted to stash the car in his rec room and stroke it each night before bedtime? No one knows.

Grundy and Chubb paid up on Pugliese's insurance claim. Jim Grundy recalls the episode with some chagrin: "I used poor judgment in accepting that value," he says. "I give [Pugliese] some credit for making a shrewd buy. But I made a mistake; $500,000 or one million would've protected his investment."

Within months, Luongo sued Pugliese for a share of the insurance money. Pugliese countersued, claiming extortion. A judge jettisoned the countersuit, but Luongo versus Pugliese went to trial in 2000. Luongo's lawyer made the case that his client, a Harvard grad, had devoted countless hours to promoting the car without pay, based on a verbal agreement that he'd get 10 percent of the eventual sale price. So what if the car was stolen rather than sold? Its value had increased from $250,000 to $4.2 million while in his care, and he should get a cut of that increase, plus 10 percent of the insurance money.

The prosecution argued that Pugliese was so far removed from the exhibition program that he thought Leslie Kendall, curator at the Petersen Automotive Museum, where the car had been shown, was a woman. Not the case. Pugliese's lawyer shot back: Yes, Pugliese had once offered Luongo 10 percent of the car's sale price, but only if Luongo sold it within a six-month window in 1993. Yes, Pugliese didn't pay Luongo, but that was because Luongo was obsessed with the car, wouldn't listen to Pugliese, and refused to stop promoting it even after Pugliese fired him in 1992. When Luongo kept hounding him about the car, he relented and returned the keys. After all, the two men were family then.

The jury deliberated just 42 minutes, awarding Luongo just over $1 million: 10 percent of the insurance money, plus half the 1996 $1.2 million uptick in the appraised value of the car. Less attorney fees and taxes. And the cost of a plane ticket so this writer could testify (see sidebar).

Author Dave Worrall thinks the star car was actually the least authentic of the four, movie-wise, because its gadgets weren't original. "The most important aspect of the car's theft is that it was the actual first DB5 prototype built," he said in a recent interview, "so it's a great loss to the world of automotive history." Not to mention its documented appearances in the Bond films.

Today, the star car remains MIA. The stunt car is still owned by Jerry Lee, rarely emerging from his home's custom James Bond Wing. One of the standee cars is in the Dutch National Motor Museum in Holland, where it's been for many years. The other standee car is the one recently sold by RM Auctions on behalf of the Smokey Mountain Car Museum. It was purchased by a Swiss businessman who, in proper spy movie parlance, has asked to remain anonymous.

The Cast: Introducing The World's Coolest Spy Car(S)

The Star Car (Chassis DP/216/1)

Original tricked-out gadget car, built out of a late-series DB4. Loaned to EON Productions by Aston Martin, modified for "Goldfinger" by effects master John Stears. Also used in "Thunderball." After publicity tours, Aston Martin stripped off weaponry, restored it, and sold it. Refitted with nonoriginal weapons in the 1970s. Telltale DB4-style side marker lights distinguish it from the others. Stolen in 1997 and still unaccounted for.

The Stunt Car (Chassis DB5/1486/R)

Like Star Car, owned by Aston Martin and loaned to EON Productions. Used for fast-driving scenes in '"Goldfinger" and "Thunderball." Had no gadgets during filming. Spy toys added afterward for publicity tours. Now privately owned, rarely seen.

PR Car #1 (Chassis DB5/2008/R)

Unlike Star Car and Stunt Car, never used in Bond movies, but owned by EON Productions. Received modifications at Aston Martin, not Q Branch. Toured the U.S. in the 1960s and 1970s. Spent 35 years in a wire cage at the Smokey Mountain Car Museum; sold at auction in 2006 for $2.1 million.

PR Car #2 (Chassis DB5/2017/R)

Ditto, except that it now lives in a museum in Holland.

Full Disclosure: Just The Facts, Miss Moneypenny

By circumstance, I assisted Robert Luongo in obtaining a percentage of the Aston Martin's insurance money in his lawsuit against the DB5's owner, Anthony V. Pugliese III. That wasn't my intent, as I had no financial interest in the car and took no side in the lawsuit. I was there only to tell the facts about working with Luongo in 1997, while planning an exhibit of the DB5 at Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan, where I was employed at the time. When I walked into the Palm Beach County courtroom in April 2000, I expected to see a sweaty witness strapped to a slab, laser beam inching inexorably crotchward.

Witness: "Do you expect me to talk?"

Lawyer: "No, Miss Witness. I expect you to die!"

The prosecutor's line of questioning established that I had never interacted with Mr. Pugliese, only with Mr. Luongo; that museum staff wouldn't have known how to deploy the DB5's gadgets without Mr. Luongo's help; and that it was my understanding in 1997 that Mr. Luongo spent several days helping move and display the Aston Martin without pay because he had a monetary interest in the car--the more it was worth, the more he'd get when it was sold--or disposed of.

The facts were useful. But what the prosecution really wanted was my opinion. Jeffrey Fisher, Mr. Luongo's attorney, asked me if I thought the "Goldfinger" Aston Martin DB5 was really the most famous car in the world. "No," I said, "I think the most famous car is the Lincoln limo President Kennedy was riding in when he was assassinated."

Fisher asked why. "Because there's a great unsolved mystery surrounding the event," I replied, "and the car remains constantly in the public eye--on exhibit, in the Zapruder film and dozens of documentaries, books, and movies."