Get Smart 4 - Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets (11 page)

Max smiled. “Well, I think we ought to realize that there
are
some very clever Control agents. I have one in particular in mind. You may have heard of him. Max Smart is his name. As I understand it, he is Control’s top agent, and, when it comes to brains, a whiz kid to boot.”

“I accept that challenge,” The Professor said. “Make believe you are this Jack Sharp.”

“Max Smart. M-a-x S-m-a-r-t.”

Frank Sadwell stepped forward. “This freshman is correct, sir,” he said to The Professor. “Jack Sharp is Control’s top agent—according to the notation on the back of his ‘Wanted’ poster.”

“Max Smart,” Max said.

“Oh, you keep up on ‘Wanted’ posters, eh?” The Professor said approvingly. “Would you know this Sax Heart if you saw him?”

“Max Smart,” Max said.

“His image is etched in my brain,” Frank Sadwell replied. “I would recognize him anywhere, under any conditions.”

“Very good,” The Professor smiled. “That’s the kind of students we need at KAOS.” He turned back to Max. “All right, we shall proceed. Stand beside the machine, and pretend that you are Max Smart.”

“Jack Sharp,” Max corrected, stepping to the machine.

“Here is your question,” The Professor said. “If beetles are bugs, and the Beatles are boys, how many boy beetles does it take to bug a Beatle boy until he boils?”

Max smiled smugly. “My answer,” he replied, “is ‘yes and no.’ ”

The machine chugged, clanked, then fell silent. The rubber hose did not appear.

“Traitor!” The Professor shrieked at the machine.

“I think it lost its cool,” Max smiled.

The Professor snatched up the pistol, aimed at the machine, and fired. The boxing glove popped out of the barrel and struck the machine square between the dials. The machine chugged again. Then the rubber hose popped out and began beating Max about the head and shoulders.

Max, stunned, dropped to the floor.

“Max!” 99 cried, rushing to him.

“Can’t beat old-fashioned dependability,” The Professor cackled. To the group, he said, “Take five. Then, after recess, I’ll demonstrate the rest of these weapons. I think you’ll be particularly interested in our new white corpuscle destroying machine. It has an intriguing boxing glove attachment. Dismissed!”

The freshmen straggled out, followed by The Professor.

“Max! Wake up!” 99 pleaded, patting Max’s face.

Max stirred. “What’s the next question?” he said fuzzily.

“Are you all right, Max?”

“I don’t think I know the answer to that. Do you have an easier one?”

At that moment, Frank Sadwell returned to the room. He was carrying a pail of water. “The Professor asked me to revive him,” he explained to 99. “He wants him to be in shape for the next demonstration.”

“I’m revived,” Max said.

Frank Sadwell threw the water into his face.

“Why did you do that?” Max asked, annoyed and dripping.

“I always follow orders,” Frank Sadwell replied. “The Professor said, ‘Throw some water in his face and revive him.’ ”

“But, I told you, I was already revived.”

“That only covered the ‘revived,’ that didn’t cover the ‘water,’ ” Frank Sadwell said. “You should have said, ‘I’m already revived, and you don’t have to throw water in my face.’ How was I to know?”

“My apologies,” Max muttered.

“Outside,” Frank said to Max and 99. “The Professor wants you to get some fresh air so you’ll be in shape for the next demonstration.”

“Couldn’t we stay in here?” Max asked.

“The Professor wants—”

“I know, I know—outside.”

Max and 99 left the room, followed by Frank Sadwell. When they got outside, Frank moved on, and joined The Professor, who, a short distance away, was talking informally to a number of the freshmen.

“Max, how are we going to plant the explosive?” 99 said worriedly. “There isn’t any place out here to drop it.”

“99, I think the time has come to make a policy decision,” Max said.

“Yes, Max?”

“The question is, which is more important, planting that explosive or saving the life of Jack Sharp?”

“Who, Max?”

“Sorry. That beating mixed me up a bit. Max Smart, I meant to say.”

“I don’t think I understand, Max.”

“99, the only way we can plant that explosive is to return to the classroom. But, if we return to the classroom, The Professor will continue to use me to demonstrate the KAOS weapons. And, frankly, 99, I don’t think I’ll survive. Now, do you understand?”

“I think so, Max. But what’s the answer?”

Max threw up his arms, covering his head.

“I’m not the lie-detector, Max. I won’t hit you,” 99 said.

“Instinct,” Max explained. “From now on, whenever I hear that question, ‘What is the answer,’ I’m going to duck.”

“Then, what can we do? Is that better, Max?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t answer the question. Which is more important, 99? Planting the explosive, or my life?”

“Max, that’s easy. Your life is more important.”

“I tend to agree with you on that, 99.”

“But, on the other hand, planting the explosive is very important, too.”

“Yes, it’s a difficult decision to make.”

“It’s your life, Max.”

“That makes it easier,” Max said. “Let’s run.”

“We better not run, Max,” 99 said. “That might create suspicion. Let’s just walk.”

“99, this is
my
life. I say let’s run!”

“Let’s compromise, Max. Let’s trot.”

“That’s fair.”

Having reached the decision, Max and 99 trotted toward the gate.

“After we escape,” 99 said, “maybe we could drop the pellet on the school grounds from the helicopter. We
might
hit it, you know.”

“99, we couldn’t even hit the school grounds with two bodies,” Max said. “We tried it, remember? When we parachuted.”

“Well, we could
try,
Max.”

Max halted. “It’s no use,” he said. “Duty first. I can’t leave, 99, until after I’ve planted that explosive. Even if it costs me my life. We’ll have to go back.”

“Max . . . you’ll be in tremendous danger!”

“Yes,” Max replied grimly, “and hating every second of it.”

“But, if that’s what you want, Max . . .”

“Attenshun!” a voice barked.

Max and 99 found themselves facing a senior.

“Cough up,” the senior commanded.

Max turned his pockets inside-out. “You’re out of luck, fella,” he said. “Every cent I had is in the Fun already.”

“We’ll take anything of value,” the senior said. “What do you have in the black bag?”

“A change of shirts,” Max replied.

“Let’s see.”

“I don’t want to waste your time,” Max said. “If you’ve seen one change of shirts, you’ve seen them all.”

“I’ll chance it,” the senior said, taking the bag from Max and opening it. He frowned. “These aren’t shirts.”

“I must have picked up the wrong black satchel when I left home,” Max said.

The senior took out the packet of explosives. “What are these green gumdrops?” he said. “I’ve never seen green gumdrops shaped like this before. They look like peas.”

“It’s a new gimmick to keep children from eating gumdrops,” Max replied. “They think they’re peas and won’t touch them.”

“I’ll take a handful,” the senior smiled, taking a handful. “I’ll put them in the Senior Fun. With these gumdrops on hand, we won’t need money. That’s what we spend the money on, anyway, when we go into town—gumdrops.” He dropped the remaining pellets back into the bag. “I’ll stop you later and get the rest of them,” he said. “I don’t like to be greedy all at once.”

“The world could use more seniors like you,” Max said.

“Dismissed!” the senior barked. And he strolled away.

“All right, 99,” Max said. “Back to the classroom.”

“Max! No! We don’t have to now!”

“I’m afraid we do, 99. The decision has been made.”

“But, Max,” 99 said, tugging at him. “The explosive has been planted. Our mission has been completed!”

“Pardon, 99?”

“Those pellets, Max! That senior will put them in the Senior Fun. They’re planted!”

Max frowned thoughtfully. “It seems too easy.”

“But it’s true, Max. Now we can escape. You don’t have to sacrifice your life.”

Max looked a little disappointed. “I was getting used to the idea,” he said. “I thought I might even get a medal.” He shrugged. “Ah, well, easy come, easy go. Let’s go, 99.”

Once more, Max and 99 trotted toward the gate. A few moments later, reaching it, they were stopped by the sentry.

“Identification,” he ordered.

Max and 99 produced the identification papers they had taken from the real students.

“Now there’s a coincidence for you,” the sentry said. “Macy and Gimbel. It was only about an hour ago that another pair with those names came in here. And now, here you two are, leaving. It’s a small world.”

“I’ll bet a lot of interesting things happen to you, out here on guard duty,” Max said.

“Would you believe it?” the guard replied. “Just this morning, I saw two people jump out of a helicopter.”

“That’s a
lit-tle
hard to believe,” Max smiled.

“Suppose I told you they were wearing parachutes?”

“A bit far-fetched,” Max replied.

“And thumbing through a sheaf of papers on the way down?”

“You’re pulling my leg,” Max said.

“You’re too sharp for me,” the sentry grinned. “But you’d be surprised at the number of people who would believe a story like that.” He saluted. “Have a fun time in town,” he said. “Don’t eat too many gumdrops.”

Max and 99 sauntered on.

When they got out of sight of the gate, they left the the road and entered the underbrush. Macy and Gimbel were still where they had left them, still bound and gagged. Max and 99 released them.

“Did we pass the initiation?” Macy grinned.

“With flying colors,” Max replied. “Now, you’re free to go on to the school and take up your studies. In fact, you’re expected in The Professor’s class. He’s conducting a lecture on modern weapons systems.”

“You better hurry,” 99 said.

Macy and Gimbel darted off through the underbrush.

“A word of advice!” Max called after them. “Don’t volunteer for anything!”

But they were out of earshot.

Max and 99 returned to the road. The helicopter was hovering overhead. Max signalled to Lance Chalfont, and the helicopter began descending.

“This is certainly going to be a banner day for that sentry,” Max smiled. “Imagine! Three sets of Macys and Gimbels in one morning!”

A
S SOON
as Max and 99 were safely back aboard the helicopter, Max got out the fact sheet on their next destination, the KAOS Old Agents Home.

“It’s in Minnesota,” Max said to Lance Chalfont. “Can you find Minnesota?”

“Is it anywhere near Minniehaha?” he asked.

“Not far from there,” Max replied. “If you can find Minniehaha, you can find Minnesota.”

“Shouldn’t we report in to the Chief, Max?” 99 said.

“Good thinking,” Max replied, taking off his shoe and dialing.

Chief:
Is that you, Max?

Max:
Yes, this is me, Operator. Connect me with the Chief, please.

Chief:
Max, this
is
me.

Max:
Oh, sorry, Chief. I’m so used to dialing you and getting the Operator instead that I expect it to happen as a matter of course.

Operator:
Are you saying I’m some kind of a buttinski?

Max:
Not exactly, Operator. What I meant was—

Operator:
Nobody can say I’m a buttinski. When did I ever butt in on anybody’s private conversation?

Max:
Operator, what I said was—

Operator:
You want to get me fired, don’t you? I know your kind. You intend to report me to the Supervisor. You’ll tell her I’m a buttinski. Is that your plan? Is that the reward I get for serving you faithfully for lo these many years? That’s gratitude!

Max:
Operator, I have no intention—

Operator:
Don’t butt in. It’s okay for you to butt in, huh? But not me. Oh no, I can’t say a word. I’m just supposed to sit here like a lump on a log and let you report me to the Supervisor for butting in and not say a word in my own defense. I guess you never heard of the Bill of Rights. Every man has the right to challenge his accuser. That goes for telephone operators, too. You think William Jennings Bryan didn’t have telephone operators in mind when he wrote the Bill of Rights?

Max:
William Jennings Bryan?

Operator:
Sure. It’s named after him. Bill. Bill Bryan.

Max:
I apologize, Operator. I’m sorry I called you a buttinski. Now, am I forgiven? May I speak to the Chief?

Operator:
I think he’s out to lunch.

Chief:
I’m not out to lunch, Operator. I’m right here.

Operator:
Don’t butt in.

Max:
Chief, try to ignore her.

Operator:
Just for that, I won’t say another word.

Max:
Fine. Now, Chief—

Operator:
I’m a human being, too, you know. I have feelings. What do you think I am, a recorded announcement? I have feelings just like anybody. In fact, I’m very sensitive. My psychiatrist says I’m
too
sensitive. “You’re too sensitive, Operator,” he keeps telling me. “You let little things bother you,” he says. “Well, you would, too,” I tell him, “if you had to put up with this one guy. He won’t take care of his shoe.” So my psychiatrist says—

Max:
Operator, shut up!

Operator:
That’s what my psychiatrist says. How did you know?

Max:
It was a wild guess. Now, please, be quiet for a minute and let me talk to the Chief. I have an important report to make.

(Silence)

Max:
Operator? Are you there? Are you going to keep quiet?

(Silence)

Max:
Operator, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.

Operator:
I’m not speaking to you.

Chief:
Max, this is your chance. Give me your report.

Max:
Chief, I can’t. Not while the Operator is pouting. I just wouldn’t feel right about it. Operator? Speak to me.