Get Smart 7 - Max Smart - The Spy Who Went Out to the Cold

by William Johnston

  “Max, they don’t have machine guns.”

  “I explained that, 99. The machine guns are in their instrument— Oh, yes, I see. They didn’t bring the instrument cases, did they?”

  “They’re having dinner, that’s all,” von BOOM said. “What’s suspicious about that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Max replied. “They’re having dinner to keep us from getting suspicious. That’s what’s suspicious about it.”

  “Poppycock!”

  Max faced him. “Did you see the way they looked at us when they passed us?” he said to von BOOM. “If you need proof that they’re KAOS agents, that should have been it.”

  “They did look at us very strangely, Professor,” 99 said.

  Von BOOM frowned. “They did stare at us,” he admitted. “But, still . . .”

  “There’s no doubt about it,” Max insisted. “Quick—let’s jump off the train.”

  “Max—it’s going at least ninety-miles-an-hour. We’d be killed.”

  “Isn’t that better than staying here and getting killed, 99?”

  Von BOOM shook his head. “I need more proof.”

  “All right, you’ll have it,” Max said. “They left their instrument cases in the car. We’ll sneak in there and open the cases, and I’ll show you that they’re carrying machine guns.” He headed toward the rear of the train. “Let’s go.”

  99 and von BOOM trailed after him.

  “Max, suppose they left somebody to guard the instrument cases?” 99 said.

  “I think two Control agents can handle a little thing like a guard, 99.”

  “Suppose the instrument cases are booby-trapped,” von BOOM said.

  “Professor, a Control agent has no trouble handling a little thing like a booby trap,” Max answered.

  They reached the special car. Max tried to open the door—but it was locked. “Drat—stopped!” he said.

  “By a locked door?” von BOOM said, puzzled.

  “Yes,” Max nodded. “Too bad it isn’t something we can handle—a guard or a booby trap. Well, that leaves us no choice. We’ll just have to jump.”

  “I refuse,” von BOOM said.

  “You go ahead and jump, 99,” Max said. “I’ll push von BOOM, then I’ll be along right after him.”

  “Max, there must be another way,” 99 said.

  “99, I’ve thought this through,” Max said. “And the only other possible way would be to detach this last car from the train and leave it stranded out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Max! That’s a brilliant idea!”

  “It’s a terrible idea, 99,” Max corrected. “What good would it do us? Those KAOS agents are all up in the dining car.”

  “We could wait until they come back, Max. And then, when they’re all in the car again, we could release it.”

  “Jumping would be much faster, 99.”

  “I won’t jump, and I won’t be pushed,” von BOOM said.

  Max sighed, resigned. “All right,” he said, “we’ll do it the hard way. But, just remember, when I make out my report on this mission, I’m going to make sure that the record shows that I wanted to jump.”

  Max, 99 and von BOOM returned to their compartments and waited until night. Then, a little after midnight, when everyone else on the train was asleep, they quietly returned to the platform of the observation car.

  “How are the cars connected, Max?” 99 whispered. “Do you know how to detach them?”

  “I’m sure it’s very simple, 99. All mechanical things are simple. I once took a Swiss watch apart—and after I’d looked at it for only a few minutes.”

  “Did you get it back together?” von BOOM asked.

  “That isn’t important, Professor,” Max replied. “I don’t intend to put these two cars back together after I disconnect them. We’re going to leave the special car stranded—remember?” He got down on his hands and knees and looked closely at the mechanism that linked the two cars. “There’s a handle here,” he said. “All I’ll have to do is pull it, I imagine.”

  “Then pull it, Max. Hurry—before someone in that other car hears us.”

  “I can’t reach it,” Max replied. “It’s— Oh, I see.” He got to his feet.

  “What are you going to do, Max?”

  “It’s closer to that other car,” he explained. He stepped to the platform of the special car. “From over here—”

  “Max—”

  “Quiet, 99. You’re liable to wake those KAOS agents.”

  “But, Max—”

  “Shh-shh-shh!” Max got down on his hands and knees again. “I can reach it from here,” he reported. “All I have to do is— There!”

  Max had pulled the lever.

  “Max! Oh, Max!” 99 cried.

  The train was speeding off into the night, leaving the special car stranded—with Max standing on the platform.

  “99—wait!”

  “Max—we can’t stop!” She turned tearfully to von BOOM. “Do something!” she wept.

  The Professor raised an arm and waved goodbye to Max. “How’s that?” he said to 99.

  As the train disappeared into the darkness, Max waved limply in response to von BOOM’s farewell. The special car was losing momentum. After a few moments, it stopped dead.

  The door opened. One of the mysterious strangers looked out. “What the—”

  “I hope you fellows have a sense of humor,” Max smiled. “Because, if you don’t, you’re going to be a little bit put out about what’s happened.”

  The whole car of mysterious strangers began crowding into the doorway, looking baffled.

  “Let me put it this way,” Max said, backing off the platform. “Let’s just say that Control has triumphed again, and let it go at that. No hard feelings—okay? Actually, I’m the one who ought to be upset. I was supposed to be on that other platform.”

  The mysterious stranger who appeared to be the leader pointed in the direction in which the train had disappeared. “You do dot!” he said angrily to Max.

  “Well, yes. But, you see—”

  “Dumbhead!” the leader raged.

  “Exactly what I was afraid of—no sense of humor,” Max said. He jumped to the ground, whipped around, and raced into the darkness, with no idea at all where he was heading.

  “Get dot dumbhead!” the leader of the mysterious strangers screamed.

  The ground beneath Max’s feet suddenly disappeared. He performed a rolling, head-over-heels summersault, and then touched ground again. He was at the bottom of a deep ditch.

  “Find me dot dumbhead!” the voice screeched.

  Max scrambled to his feet. Following the ditch, he raced forward. The voice followed him. He scampered up the side of the ditch, then, on level ground once more, plunged into the darkness—and bounced off a wire fence.

  “Oooooooo!—do I vant dot dumbhead!”

  Max dragged himself to his feet. He struggled to the top of the fence, tumbled over it—and dangled, with one shoe caught in the wire.

  “Soch a dumbhead!”

  Max slipped his foot out of the shoe—and crashed to the ground. He staggered to his feet, retrieved the shoe, put it back on, then plunged forward once more—but, unfortunately, in the wrong direction, right back into the fence.

  “Dere he is! Get him! Dot dumbhead!”

  Again, Max lunged into the darkness. He found himself running across a plowed field, falling on his face after every third step. Behind him, the voice of rage was raised over and over again. But Max kept on. And his determination was soon rewarded. Ahead, he saw a dim light—and then the outline of a house.

  “A peasant farmhouse!” he gasped. “Maybe they’ll hide me!”

  With renewed strength, he plunged forward again—straight into a wooden fence, over the top of it, and down into a pig pen.

  “Oink!” the pig complained.

  “Sorry about that,” Max replied, climbing out.

  He rushed on, and, moments later, reached the porch of the fa
rmhouse. Collapsing against the door, he beat on it frantically. In the near distance, he heard the voice again, getting closer.

  “I think you’re going to have some more company,” he called back to the pig.

  At that instant, the door opened—and Max fell into the house, landing flat on his face.

  “Da?” a voice said.

  Max raised his head. Standing over him were a Russian man and his Russian wife. They were dressed in night clothes. Apparently Max had awakened them.

  “KAOS!” Max panted. “I’m being . . . pursued . . . by . . . by KAOS agents. Save . . . me.”

  The man smiled broadly. “Da!” he said. But he made no effort to help Max.

  Max got to his feet. “You don’t understand! Hide! Hide! Conceal! Stash!” He remembered his Russian-American dictionary and quickly got it out.

  But at that same instant there was a loud rap on the door.

  “Vere is dot dumbhead!” a voice shouted from outside.

  The peasant and his wife exchanged baffled looks.

  Max raced from the main room into the bedroom and dived under the bed. Soon after that he heard the peasant open the door.

  “Greetings!” Max heard the leader of the mysterious strangers say. “Vee are looking for a dumbhead. Maybe you haff seen him. He is a little dumpy fellow that looks like he needs a keeper. And, oh, boy, does he need a keeper! Such a dumbhead!”

  “Da?” the peasant replied.

  “Who’s got the Russian-American dictionary?” the leader of the mysterious strangers demanded.

  Apparently one of his followers quickly handed it over to him. For, a minute or so later, he began addressing the peasant in his native tongue. Max recognized only one word—dumbhead. Evidently the peasant did not understand much more than that, either. He kept responding with one word—da, da, da, da, da.

  “Is very clear!” the leader of the mysterious strangers said finally. “He is saying, yes, he does not know vere the dumbhead is. Let’s go! Vee find him!”

  The door closed.

  Max crawled out from under the bed and returned to the main room. “I want to thank you,” he said to the peasant and his wife. “That was very clever. You made him think you couldn’t understand a word he was saying.”

  The peasant brightened. He pointed to Max. “Dumbhead!” he beamed.

  “Yes, yes, I’m the dumbhead,” Max nodded. “Now then, can you help me get away?”

  The peasant tapped Max’s chest with a forefinger, his grin growing broader. “Dumbhead!” he repeated.

  “We’re not accomplishing anything,” Max muttered. Once more, he got out his Russian-English dictionary. “Let’s see now . . .” he said, paging through it. “I want to get to the ocean . . . water . . . but I want to get there without being seen . . . that is, to stay hidden . . . hide . . .”

  “Da?”

  “Hold it a second,” Max said. “I’m working this out. I need the word for— Ah, here it is!” He closed the dictionary and addressed the peasant. “Droski hobbit. Bibnik. Ish Kabibble. Da?”

  The peasant’s eyes opened wide. He turned to his wife. “Droski hobbit?” he said incredulously.

  She giggled. “Bibnik,” she replied.

  “It may sound a little silly to you,” Max said. “But, you see, those men who were looking for me were KAOS agents. They’re angry because I unhooked their special car. That made them lose Professor von BOOM. If you can provide me with transportation to the ocean, though, I’ll be safe. I’ll call the Chief on my shoe and have him send a submarine for me. Is that clear?”

  The peasant smiled and pointed at Max again. “Dumbhead!” he said.

  “You’re right on the verge of running that into the ground,” Max warned. “Now, how about my transportation?”

  “Ish kabibble?”

  “Yes, I would appreciate it,” Max nodded.

  The peasant led the way from the house. He, Max and his wife went to the barn, where the peasant gestured toward a cow that was standing docilely in a stall.

  “Am I supposed to ride it?” Max asked. “Don’t you have something with a motor?”

  “Da?”

  “All right—da.”

  The peasant led the cow from the stall. Max climbed up on its back. “I hope I’m not going to get a lot of stares,” he said. “I’m a secret agent, you know.”

  The peasant’s wife tossed a rope over Max. “Bibnik,” she giggled, beginning to tie Max to the cow.

  “No, no, ish kabibble!” Max protested.

  The peasant yelped delightedly. “Ish kabibble?” he asked, as if he could hardly believe.

  “Da!” Max cried. “Ish kabibble!”

  Following directions, the peasant walloped the cow on the left flank. Stung, the animal bounded forward. Off it raced, past the pig pen, across the field, with Max clinging to its back.

  At the barn, the peasant and his wife looked at each other. The wife raised her eyes, signifying complete bafflement.

  “Dumbhead,” the peasant explained.

  The cow galloped on, with Max hanging onto its neck and protesting loudly—but ineffectively, since he did not know the word to stop a Russian cow from ish kabibbling.

  Then suddenly Max spotted the men from the train. They were tramping back across the field toward the tracks.

  “Back!” Max shouted at the cow, trying to turn it.

  The cow, knowing no English, paid no attention. Unfortunately, the mysterious strangers heard and understood.

  “It’s him—the dumbhead!” the leader shouted, as the cow and Max approached.

  “Who’s he got on his back?” a second voice asked.

  “He’s the one on top! Get him!”

  The cow reached the mysterious strangers. The mysterious strangers snatched Max from the back of the cow. The cow galloped on into the night. Max rested in the grip of the mysterious strangers.

  “You dumbhead!” the leader roared.

  “Frankly, I’ll admit, it hasn’t been my best day,” Max said. “I haven’t lost a train and a cow, both on the same day, in a long time.”

  “Will you get it over with?” one of the mysterious strangers who was holding Max said to the leader. “I’d like to get back to bed.”

  “Right—get it over with,” Max said. “I took my chance, and I muffed it. Now, I’m ready to die like the good Control agent I am.”

  “Vot he say?” the leader asked.

  “He’s out of his head,” one of the men replied. “Riding a cow bareback will do it every time.”

  Max yawned. “I could use some sleep, too,” he said. “So, if you KAOS people are going to kill me . . .”

  The leader backed away from him, appalled. “Don’t say dot!”

  Max peered at him. “You are a KAOS agent, aren’t you?”

  The leader hesitated. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “Vot is it?”

  “If you don’t know, you’re not,” Max answered. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it—you’re not. But, if you’re not—why were you chasing me?”

  One of the other mysterious strangers indicated the leader. “He has something to tell you,” he said.

  Max faced the leader. “Yes?” he asked, interested.

  The leader drew himself up, then shouted, “You are a dumbhead!”

  Max nodded. “Oh.” He looked around at the faces of the men. “If you’re not KAOS agents, who are you?” he asked.

  “We’re members of the Peoria, Illinois, Symphony Orchestra,” one of the mysterious strangers replied. “We’re on a cultural exchange visit. We’re giving concerts all over Russia.”

  “You mean you’re carrying musical instruments in those musical instrument cases?” Max said.

  “Vot else?” the leader asked.

  Max eyed him narrowly. “If you’re from Peoria, Illinois, how come you have an accent?” he asked.

  “Vot accent?”

  “He’s our conductor,” one of the other men explained. “He’s from Germany. All American symphon
y conductors are from Germany. It’s kind of a rule.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Max said. “When we were on that train, and you passed me and my friends on your way to the dining car, you stared at us in a very mysterious way. If you’re not KAOS agents, why did you do that?”

  “You looked like Americans,” one of the men replied. “We wondered what you were doing on the Trans Siberian Railroad.”

  “Would you believe that I’m a secret agent, and that I’m escorting a very important scientist to the North Pole?” Max asked.

  “No.”

  “Good,” Max said. “Because it’s a secret, and I wouldn’t want it blabbed around.”

  The whole group returned to the stranded car. As they were discussing the problem of getting to their destination, they heard a train whistle.

  “Is the train coming back?” one of the men asked.

  “If it is, it circled us and it’s sneaking up on us from the rear,” Max replied.

  “That’s tomorrow’s train,” one of the men said. “It’s early.”

  “Isn’t it liable to hit us?” Max asked.

  An instant later, the train plowed into the car, hooked on, and kept right on going. Two days later, it reached the end of the line, right behind the last car of the train of the day before.

  99 and von BOOM were waiting for Max at the station. They stood by, perplexed, as Max said goodby to the mysterious strangers, shaking hands with each one. Then, when the men left, they rushed up to Max.

  “Max. What? Who?” 99 asked.

  He explained that the men were not KAOS agents, but members of the Peoria Symphony.

  “Max . . . one other thing,” 99 said. “Didn’t you tell them your real name?”

  “Of course, 99.”

  “Then why did they all call you by that other name?”

  “That’s a term of affection, 99.”

  “Dumbhead?”

  “Don’t push it, 99,” Max warned. “Nobody likes a pushy secret agent.”

  9.

  MAX LOOKED AROUND the station. “Where can I find some privacy?” he said.

  “What for, Max?”

  “I want to telephone the Chief and arrange for a submarine to meet us when we reach the coast. We can’t wade to Alaska, you know, 99.”