Get Smart 9 - Max Smart and the Ghastly Ghost Affair

by William Johnston

  “Superbly.”

  “Then, watch this very carefully,” Max said to the other assassins. “It will be worth seeing.”

  “Max! You sound as if you’re looking forward to it!” 99 said.

  “I always enjoy watching an expert at work.”

  Arbuthnot raised the pistol and pointed it at Max, sighting straight between the eyes. “On the count of three,” he said. “One . . . two . . .—”

  There was a distant rambling sound.

  Arbuthnot frowned, and, lowering the pistol, said, “What was that?”

  “Thunder, I think,” Max said. “Gee, I hope it doesn’t rain.”

  “No . . . it wasn’t thunder,” Arbuthnot said. He went to the door of the lounge car and opened it and looked out—then screamed. “Oh, no!”

  The rumbling became a thundering. Then the burly girls who had been on the train earlier came stomping into the car. They set upon the KAOS agents, attacking them with fury and abandon.

  Max grabbed 99 by the hand and they dived behind a lounge chair. From there, they watched as the lady wrestlers mauled the assassins. KAOS agents were everywhere, flying through the air, skidding up the aisle on their noses, necks, ears and other parts. KAOS agents crashed through windows and were hurled through doorways. KAOS agents were kicked, bitten, pinched, punched, and pulled and pummeled.

  “Fortunately for us, they’re wrestlers first and ladies last,” Max said to 99.

  “Max, where did they come from? Why are they so outraged?”

  “I think we’ll soon find out, 99. They seem to be running out of KAOS assassins to kick, bite, pinch, punch, pull and pummel.”

  The lounge car suddenly became quiet. KAOS assassins were sprawled everywhere, unconscious.

  Max and 99 raised up from behind the lounge chair.

  Several burly girls started after them.

  “Stop!” the leader of the wrestlers commanded. “We’re in enough trouble as it is, ladies,” she said, looking suddenly worried.

  “Trouble?” Max said.

  “This is always happening,” the lady wrestler replied. “We get a little peeved at somebody, and we break all their arms and legs. And, it seems, in a riled up world like the world we live in today, nobody’s got any sense of humor any more. They get mad at us for breaking their arms and legs and sue us for damages and threaten to put us in jail and all like that there.”

  “I think I have some rather pleasant news for you,” Max said. “You may not get many laughs out of this mayhem you committed today, but, on the other hand, you may get a medal.”

  Max then explained that he and 99 were Control agents and that the men the ladies had mauled were KAOS assassins. The lady wrestlers were delighted by the news. They wanted to kick the assassins a few more times for good measure while they were unconscious. But Max felt that would be adding injury to injury, and he restrained them.

  “What baffles me,” Max said, “is why you weren’t all killed when you were dropped off the train through that false door in the dining car.”

  “Why, it was just a normal fall for us,” the leader of the lady wrestlers replied. “In our profession, we’re used to falls.”

  “Yes . . . I can see that,” Max nodded. “How did you find us, though, here in this ghost town?”

  “No problem,” the lady wrestler replied. “It’s not hard to follow a train, you know. It leaves tracks.”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that,” Max nodded. “Well,” he said, “that seems to wrap up the case fairly neatly. I’ll just trot up to the engine and overpower the engineer, then I’ll drive the train back to Washington, and we’ll deliver all these KAOS assassins to the proper authorities.”

  “Let us!” the leader of the lady wrestlers begged.

  “Let you what?”

  “Overpower the engineer,” she replied. “If we’re not going to get sued for this, we can really let go. We kind of need the relaxation. We’ve been jogging for days to catch up with this train.”

  “Well . . .”

  “And we’ll drive the train back to Washington, too,” the leader of the burly girls said. “You probably want a rest yourself.”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Come on, Max, before they change their minds,” 99 said. She took him by the hand and drew him out of the lounge car and along the aisle toward their compartment. “We’ve worked hard,” she said. “We deserve a few hours off.”

  “I suppose you’re right, 99.”

  They reached the compartment and entered. Then sat down in the seats, facing each other. A few moments later, the sound of screaming came from the front of the train.

  “I think we’re changing engineers,” Max commented.

  99 nodded. “I feel so secure with those lady wrestlers in charge,” she said.

  “Yes,” Max began, “I think from here on out, 99, it will be smooth—”

  There was a sound like a puff of air. Then Max suddenly found a mule in his lap.

  “99!” he shouted, shoving Madame DuBarry. “This animal got away from its keeper.”

  “No, he didn’t!” the voice of the old prospector replied. “Here I am, right over here.”

  “He’s on my lap, Max!” 99 reported.

  “If you’re going to ride in this compartment, you’ll have to sit in the seats!” Max insisted. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  The old prospector and Madame DuBarry moved from Max’s and 99’s laps. The prospector sat alongside 99. The mule lay down on the floor between the seats. At the same moment, the train started moving.

  “All ashore who’s going ashore!” Max said. “It was very nice of you to come to the train to see us off, but you better leave now. This train is on its way to Washington.”

  “Yup!” the old prospector said. “Us, too. Me and Madame DuBarry.”

  “Oh, no!” Max said glumly.

  “Yup!” the old prospector said again. “After all these centuries—”

  “Decades,” 99 corrected.

  “No, it hasn’t been that long,” the old prospector said. “It’s seemed like it, though, sometimes. Anyway, as I was saying, after all these centuries of living the lonely life, searching for that long lost gold, we decided to kick up our heels and do a little livin’. So, we’re moving to the city.”

  “There’ll be a lot of problems of adjustment,” Max said, trying to discourage them.

  “We figure we’ll just stick by you and do what you do,” the old prospector said. “ ’Till we get the hang of it, that is.”

  “And where will you stay?” Max said. “There aren’t many landladies in Washington who will rent to a ghost and a mule. Now, if you had an elephant with you— But a mule, these days, uh-huh.”

  “That won’t be no problem,” the old prospector replied. “We figure we’ll just bunk with you. You got a place, haven’t you?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Tit for tat,” the old prospector said. “We shared our long lost mine with you, so we figure you’ll be just as happy as all get-out to share your home with us. ’Cause you’re folks.”

  “Well, yes, I guess we are, but—”

  “Oh, Max!” 99 said. “It’s not the best way to start married life, sharing an apartment with an old prospector and a mule, both ghosts.”

  “Look on the bright side, 99. It could be worse.”

  “How, Max?”

  “It could be a relative.”

  99 tried hard not to look the way she felt.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  WILLIAM JOHNSTON (1924-2010), author of many movie and TV tie-in novels was born January 11th, 1924 and passed away October 15th, 2010.

  On January 4th, 2010, The International Association of Media Tie-in Writers www://iamtw.org announced it was bestowing The Faust, its Grand Master Award for excellence, to author William Johnston, the writer of over a hundred tie-in novels and the most prolific practitioner of the craft.

  (From the January/February 2010 Newsl
etter - IAMTW)

  The Newsletter of the International Association

  of Media Tie-in Writers

  IAMTW’s GRAND MASTER SCRIBE AWARD,

  THE FAUST, GOES TO THE GENRE’S MOST

  PROLIFIC PRACTITIONER

  By David Spencer

  The inarguable preeminent author of tie-ins, with more published tie-in titles to his credit (well more than 100) than any writer in the game before or since—the legendary and until now somewhat elusive William Johnston—will be honored by the IAMTW with a Faust Award, the honor bestowed upon Grand Masters. He is currently residing in San Jose, California, and will turn 86 on January 11th, 2010—a fitting number, as it is his series of novels based on the spy sitcom Get Smart, about Secret Agent 86 for CONTROL, which turned his byline into a virtual tie-in “brand” and thereafter defined the nature of his tie-in (and the largest proportion of his literary) career as the industry’s comedy specialist.

  Johnston’s style is paradoxically recognizable, despite seeming matter of fact and transparent, his narration employing little reliance on metaphor, idiosyncratic locution or other literary manipulation. But the ostensible simplicity is utterly deceptive: for in the “serious” books, depth of characterization sneaks up on the reader, dialogue and internalization unusually nuanced, layered and when appropriate even subtle, with a psychological perception very ahead of its time.

  Johnston’s humorous novels are a textbook lesson on comic timing in prose, possibly because he had some experience as an actor (a signature of his books is writing phone conversations as play-format dialogue exchanges, woodshedding redundant “he saids” and “she saids”).

  He knew the wisdom and the technique of “simply” staying out of the way, and letting the tale be carried by action, dialogue, and an impeccable sense of cadence and rhythm. Plus his own unique brand of whimsy and wordplay.

  Johnston’s career started in 1960 with the release of a hardcover comic murder mystery, The Marriage Cage (Lyle Stuart, reissued in paperback by Dell), which earned him a Best First Novel Edgar Award nomination from the Mystery Writers of America. Curiously, this did not lead immediately to more mystery novels (though he would write mystery tie-ins later in his career), but rather to a number of early 60s pulp titles for Monarch Books, which ranged from light comedy (The Power of Positive Loving) to medical romance (the Doctor Starr trilogy) to soft core racy (Save Her for Loving, Teen Age Tramp, Girls on the Wing).

  The medical novels in particular either dovetailed with, or led to, his first tie-in commissions, which were for original novels based on medical dramas, such as The Nurses (Bantam), Doctor Kildare (Lancer and Whitman) and Ben Casey. These books, published between 1962 and 1964, were so successful that a cover variant on The Nurses includes a “2nd Big Printing” starburst; and his next (and it would seem last) original medical romance, Two Loves Has Nurse Powell (Neva Paperbacks) trumpets “From the author of Ben Casey. ”

  It’s likely that among these books, the Doctor Kildare title written for Whitman’s young audience line was a significant pivot point, because in 1965, Tempo Books (the Young Audience paperback imprint of Grosset & Dunlop) commissioned Johnston to write Get Smart, an original novel based on the spy satire sitcom starring Don Adams, Barbara Feldon, and Edward Platt, created by Mel Brooks and Buck Henry. The first Get Smart book proved so staggeringly popular, going through multiple printings, that follow ups were immediately commissioned, leading to what would become a series of nine books over the course of the show’s five-season history.

  That doesn’t sound like much in new millennium terms, but in the 60s it amounted to a single-author original tie-in grand slam, outdistanced only by the Dark Shadows series authored by Dan (as “Marilyn”) Ross. Indeed, it was the third place holder for TV tie-in series originals in general, with only the 23-book Man from U.N.C.L.E. series—by multiple authors—between it and Dark Shadows. (James Blish’s 12 book Star Trek series for Bantam, which continued into the 70s, did not feature original tales, but was rather comprised exclusively of short stories adapting the show’s teleplays.)

  Johnson’s gig as Maxwell Smart’s official novelist in turn led to his becoming the go-to guy for sitcom-based novels in general. Continuing with Tempo Books from the rest of the decade into the mid-70s, he authored a one-shot based on the short-lived Captain Nice (starring William Daniels of 1776 and also created by Buck Henry) and book series based on Room 222, Happy Days, and Welcome Back, Kotter. Concurrently he also authored books based on The Flying Nun for Ace, as well as The Brady Bunch and Nanny and the Professor (Lancer). As if that weren’t plenty, he also did sitcom novels for Whitman, including titles based on The Munsters, Gilligan’s Island, Bewitched, The Monkees, and F-Troop.

  Though the sitcom novels dominated Johnston’s tie-in career, and were the work with which he was reflexively identified, he still did a catalog’s worth of work in just about every other TV tie-in genre except science fiction and military. He authored one-off mysteries based on My Friend Tony (Lancer), Ironside (Whitman), and the comic strip Dick Tracy (Tempo), a two-book series based on the American Revolution youth historical, The Young Rebels, and an original Western based on The Iron Horse (Popular Library). Under pseudonyms he tackled social drama, with a book based on Rod Serling’s The New People (as “Alex Steele” for Tempo) and two based on Matt Lincoln (as “Ed Garth” for Lancer). His catalog even includes a smattering of juvenilia, with Whitman Big Little books based on Hanna Barbera cartoon characters such as Magilla Gorilla and Snagglepuss, among others. (According to the late Howard Ashman—whose day job, before Little Shop of Horrors made him a musical theatre icon, was assistant editor at Ace/Tempo during Johnston’s most prolific period—Johnston’s services as sitcom specialist were so much in demand that, simply to keep up the pace and meet the deadlines, he would occasionally create detailed outlines which would then be farmed out to anonymous “ghosts” for fleshing out. Since the style remains consistent, one assumes Johnston added the final polish.)

  Aside from his TV tie-in originals, Johnston penned many script novelizations, again in multiple genres. He novelized the pilots for the 1930s-era private eye series Banyon (Warner) and the high school drama Sons and Daughters (Ballantine). His feature film novelizations include (and may not be limited to) Alan J. Pakula’s controversial Klute, The Swinger, Echoes of a Summer, Robert Bloch’s Asylum, The New Interns, The April Fools, The Priest’s Wife, Disney’s Lt. Robin Crusoe, USN (written as “Bill Ford”) and Angel, Angel, Down We Go. If you note that The Swinger was published under the Dell imprint and review the publishers named in this release, another astonishing fact emerges: Johnston tie-ins seem to have been issued by every major paperback house of the era, with the exception of Fawcett.

  Which is not to say that Fawcett didn’t publish him: during this period he, like a lot of male pulpsmiths, also wrote gothic romances behind a female pseudonym. His were published—by Fawcett—under the name “Susan Claudia.” Johnston’s wholly original work became scarce once he was established as a tie-in machine, but it didn’t altogether disappear. Aside from the Susan Claudia gothics, he also authored The Manipulator (Lancer, 1968, reissued under Magnum), a racy paperback potboiler about an ambitious business executive fighting the odds to get a revolutionary jetliner into the air; and in hardcover, a novel about an overweight, bigoted beat cop called Barney (Random House, 1970, reissued in paperback by Warner).

  Barney was his longest novel ever, clocking in at 307 pages. The page count is an interesting statistic owing to the period in which Johnston wrote: at that time, tie-in novels were typically shorter than they are today—as indeed were genre novels in general—and a typical Johnston paperback ranged from between 128-144 pages of small print to 160-190 pages of moderate print. By those standards, his two longest original tie-ins, the small print releases The Nurses at approximately 224 (Bantam) and The Iron Horse at approximately 190 (Popular Library) were tie-in epics.

  Johnston’s last book— anyway, his las
t as far as can be determined—was an atypically “epic” small-print novelization, of the likewise epic, and thoroughly notorious film Caligula (Warner, 1979, 222 pages). As shamelessly salacious as the film apparently was, the book sported the byline “William Howard,” possibly to avoid inappropriately attracting the younger readers who flocked to his sitcom pastiches. Indeed, the book had its own notoriety, for it was originally released in advance of the film—with the film’s logo design (a Roman coin featuring an embossed close-up likeness of Malcolm McDowell in the title role) against a tan background—as Gore Vidal’s Caligula. But soon after, all unsold copies of the print run were recalled, as Vidal had filed suit to have his name taken off Bob Guccione’s vulgarized film. Vidal lost the suit, but his name was removed from the book, which was reissued with the logo against an ironically lily white background as simply Caligula, with no screenplay attribution.

  The following profile comes from the premier edition back cover of Johnston’s first book, The Marriage Cage, and constitutes virtually the only bio of any meaningful detail he allowed on any of his books (he is quoted as having said, “I wanted to stay as anonymous as possible”). Based on its irreverent style, it’s safe to assume Johnston wrote it himself:

  William Johnston was born in Lincoln, Illinois on January 11, 1924.

  He ended his formal education after three years of high school, when he left home and school at seventeen to become an actor. Claims he was a lousy actor.

  Joined the Navy in 1942 after seeing a Naval band marching in a newsreel. Has tried to avoid newsreels ever since. Served in the Pacific. After the war, he became a disk jockey for radio station WTAX, Springfield, Illinois. A year later, he became a wandering disk jockey, working at stations in Illinois and Indiana.

  In another year, as Johnston tells the story, he, with two acquaintances and one client, formed an advertising agency in Chicago. For certain mystic reasons, they named it Merchants Limited, after a train that ran between Boston and New York. The day after the agency was formed, the client came to his senses and pulled out. Agency disbanded.