“It’s got a submarine under it!” the young man said, surprised. “Now, isn’t that one for the books. I’ve had this ol’ nitty-gritty boat for almost five years, and I never noticed that submarine down there before.”
“It’s a Navy sub,” Max informed him.
“Then somebody hide those records. The Navy and the Coast Guard are in cahoots!”
“Max! We’re saved!” 99 cried ecstatically. “The submarine will take us to Alaska!”
“That’s very nice, 99,” Max said gruffly. “But it isn’t all that nice, you know.”
“Why not, Max?”
“I’m going to have a dickens of a time when I begin making out my report on this mission,” Max replied. “How will I say we got to Alaska—by submarine or row boat?”
10.
IT WAS MID-DAY when the submarine reached the coast of Alaska. In the meantime, the evidence—the row boat and the rock ’n’ roll records—had been lost at sea.
“Are you sure that’s Alaska?” Max said to Captain Jinx as they stood on the deck viewing the shore. “From here, it looks green.”
“It’s always that color from here,” Captain Jinx replied.
“Very strange. On my map, it’s yellow.”
“I’ve been making this trip for years—Alaska to Russia, Russia to Alaska, Alaska to Russia, Russia to Alaska—and Alaska has always been in this very spot,” Captain Jinx insisted. “If you were standing on the shore, you could see that I’m right.”
“How’s that?”
“You could see this submarine out here. And right now this submarine is scheduled to be arriving in Alaska.”
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Max said.
Max called 99, von BOOM and the smuggler up on deck. Then a rubber raft was lowered for them.
As they climbed into it, Max called back to the Captain, “Shall we leave this raft on the beach for you?”
“Take it with you,” Captain Jinx replied. “There’s plenty more where that one came from.”
“It would just be a nuisance,” Max replied.
“You won’t think so when you start getting ice water in your shoes.”
“Pardon?”
“There’s a good stretch of Arctic Ocean between Alaska and the North Pole,” Captain Jinx explained.
“Oh. In that case, we’ll keep it.”
“Why not? There’s plenty more where that one came from.”
Max pushed off and he and the smuggler rowed and the raft soon reached the shore. When they were all safely on land, Max deflated the rubber raft and tucked it into his back pocket. Then, after goodbyes were said, the smuggler turned south, and Max, 99 and von BOOM headed north.
In the early evening, Max, 99 and von BOOM reached a highway. They began thumbing and were soon picked up by a truck driver, who advised them that he was on his way to Barrow, Alaska’s northernmost city.
“Is that on the way to the North Pole?” Max asked.
“If that’s were you’re going, it is,” the driver replied. “But then, if you’re heading for Florida, it’s on the way to Florida, too. Is that where you’re going—the Pole?”
“I don’t think I’d better say,” Max replied. “We’re on a secret mission.”
When they reached Barrow, Max, 99 and von BOOM proceeded on foot again. It was only a short distance to the shore. There, Max reinflated the rubber raft and they set out across the Arctic Ocean.
“Things are going too smoothly, Max,” 99 said. “I’m worried.”
“Worried? 99, we’re out in the middle of the Arctic Ocean in a rubber raft—how could we be any safer?”
“Has anybody else noticed the chill in the air?” von BOOM said.
“I’m too cold to notice anything,” 99 shivered.
“Then grab a paddle,” Max advised. “Not only will paddling keep you warm, but it will get us there faster.”
After a number of near collisions with icebergs, they finally reached land again.
“Now, this is more like it,” Max said, leading the party ashore. “It’s the same color here as it is on my map.”
“I think snow is always white, Max, no matter where it is.”
“It’s wetter here than on my map, though,” Max said. “I wonder if that’s be—” He suddenly peered into the distance. “Is that smoke?”
“Max! It must be a town or a settlement or something.”
“Maybe so, 99. But it certainly looks like smoke.”
“I mean, if there’s smoke, there must be people. And if there are people, it must be civilized. And if it’s civilized, we can get some warm clothes.”
“99, your theory just won’t stand up. It isn’t always true that where there are people there are also clothes. For all we know, that might be a nudist colony.”
“In this snow, Max?”
“Come along, Professor,” Max said. “I think we’ll find warm clothes up ahead.”
Max, 99 and von BOOM trudged through the snow and soon reached an Eskimo village. It consisted of a general store, built of sheets of tin, and a number of igloos. They hurried into the store and then huddled around the wood stove, thawing out. The proprietor, an old man with a walrus mustache, watched them curiously.
“We’re strangers in town,” Max called out to the man.
“Do tell! I figured you was Admiral Byrd.”
“I think Admiral Byrd specialized in the South Pole,” Max said.
“Well, I figured—the skimpy way you’re dressed—you was lost, Admiral.”
“I’m not an admiral, I’m a secret agent,” Max said.
“Your secret’s safe with me, son. I sure ain’t dumb enough to admit to nobody that I ever even saw you.”
“Could we buy some warm clothes?” 99 said. “We’re on our way to the Pole.”
“Want to see if it’s really red-and-white striped, eh?” the old man chuckled. “We get a lot of you college kids through here—all with the same idea in mind. Well, I can save you the trouble. That’s the color it is, all right. At least, on my map, anyways.”
“That doesn’t happen to be our reason,” Max said.
“Looking for Santy Claus Land?”
“Could you just get us the clothes?” Max said grumpily.
The proprietor supplied them with heavy, fur-lined parkas, then said, “You’ll need some snowshoes, too. What size?”
“Size isn’t really important,” Max replied. “But my left one has to be a telephone.”
“No got,” the old man replied. “But how about a right boot that sends up smoke signals?”
“That’s interesting,” Max said. “How does it work?”
“You set it on fire, then wave a blanket over it.”
“No thanks,” Max replied. “Regular snowshoes will have to do, I guess. Will we need anything else?”
“I’m all out of what you really need,” the old man said. “I didn’t get my shipment in from the brain factory this week.”
“Max, maybe we ought to have a dog sled,” 99 said.
“I can fix you up with a dog sled,” the old man nodded.
“And dogs?” Max asked.
“I can fix you up with some dogs, too. And what size whip would you like?”
“Whip?”
“You don’t think any dog with any sense would go out there in that snow and cold unless he was drove to it, do you?”
“Nevermind the whip,” Max said. “I’ll just explain to them that their country’s space program is depending on them.”
An hour later, dressed snuggly in parkas, fitted with snowshoes, and following a sled that was packed with supplies and pulled by a team of dogs, Max, 99 and von BOOM set out across the snow headed in the direction of the Pole.
“It’s hard to believe, Max, but we’re actually on the last lap,” 99 said. “I think we’re really going to make it.”
“This is no time to let down our guard, 99,” Max warned. “For all we know, there may be a KAOS agent behind every sand dune.”
>
“Snow, Max.”
“Oh . . . yes. Behind every snow dune, then.”
“But, Max, there aren’t any dunes. It’s all level. And you can see for miles and miles and there’s nothing in sight.”
“Even so, 99, I still say we better stay on our toes. Who knows what might happen before we— Isn’t the wind getting stronger?”
“Looks like we’re in for a sand storm,” von BOOM said.
“Snow storm, Professor,” 99 corrected.
“What is it, then?” Max asked.
“What, Max?”
“The Professor said he thought a storm was blowing up. And you said it’s no storm. So, I asked you what it is if it isn’t a storm.”
“I didn’t say no storm, Max, I said snow storm.”
Max cupped a hand to his ear. “I can’t hear you, 99! The wind is too loud.”
“I said snow storm!” 99 shouted.
“It’s certainly behaving like a storm,” Max insisted. “I can hardly see! 99, where are you? The snow is blinding me! Professor von BOOM! Are you there?”
“Here, Max!” 99 answered. “Take my hand!”
“I’ve got it, 99! Incidentally, this may not be the right time to mention it, but your fingernails need clipping!”
“Max! That isn’t my hand!”
“Oh. Sorry, doggy.”
“Max! Where is the Professor?”
“I’m here!” von BOOM answered. “Behind the sled!”
“Where is the sled!” Max shouted. “I can’t— Nevermind—I found it! I’ll pile some of these supplies in a circle and make a shelter!”
“Let go of my head!” von BOOM shouted.
“Max! I can’t find you!” 99 cried.
“Just stay where you are!” Max called. “I’ll build this shelter, then I’ll look for you.”
“Max!” 99 screamed. “Let go of my head!”
“I think it will be safer if we all pitch in and pile the supplies in a circle,” Max said.
“Good idea, Max. I’ll help!”
“99!” Max shouted. “Let go of my head!”
“Sorry, Max.”
Eventually, Max, 99 and von BOOM managed to get the supplies piled in a circle. Then they and the dogs huddled inside, sheltered from the howling wind and blowing snow.
“Is it necessary to have the dogs in here, Max?” 99 said. “Aren’t they used to this kind of weather?”
“In the Arctic, 99, the dog is man’s best friend,” Max replied. “The wisest thing we could do would be to save these dogs, even if it cost us our lives.”
“Why, Max?”
“Because these dogs might save our lives, 99. If we got lost, they could lead us back to that general store. They’re like homing pigeons.”
“Not this breed,” von BOOM said. “Those are bird dogs you’re talking about.”
“That’s very funny,” Max said sourly. “But the fact remains that, in the Arctic, a man takes care of his dogs before he takes care of himself.”
“All right, Max,” 99 said. “I’m hungry. Will you open up one of the packages, please?”
Max untied one of the packs. “This proves it,” he said. He opened up another pack. “I knew I knew what I was talking about,” he commented. He opened another pack. “This is proof positive.”
“Max . . . what are you muttering about?”
“These packs are proof that a man takes care of his dogs no matter what,” Max explained. “They’re all full of dog food.”
99 groaned.
“I think we’re going to be all right,” von BOOM said. “The storm seems to be letting up a bit.”
Max raised up and looked out over the rim of the shelter. “I think you’re right, Professor,” he said. “I’m beginning to be able to see now. The snow isn’t blowing as fiercely as it was.”
“What do you see, Max?”
“A number of figures. They appear to be men in white suits.”
“I knew they’d come to get you in time,” said von BOOM. “But I didn’t think they’d come all this distance.”
“Max . . . you must be seeing things.”
“I certainly am, 99. They’re all around us. We’re trapped.”
“Max . . .” 99 raised up and peered over the rim of the shelter, too. “Max! You’re right! I see them!”
Max ducked down. “KAOS agents!” he announced.
“Out here, Max?” 99 said doubtfully. “How did they get here?”
“Simple, 99. They’re a crack squad of assassins, especially trained to operate in the Arctic. Those white suits they’re wearing are camouflage. Against the snow, they’re practically invisible.”
“Max, I still don’t understand. How did they get here?”
“Simple, 99. They were parachuted in.”
“I suppose that’s possible, Max. But, as big as the whole Arctic region is, how did they track us to this exact spot?”
“Simple, 99. The proprietor of that general store was really a KAOS agent. He planted a homing device in one of those cans of dog food. The KAOS parachuters merely zeroed in on it.”
“Max—what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to fight them off, 99.”
“But how, Max? We lost our weapons days ago.”
“Remember when we took survival training, 99? We were taught to use whatever was at hand. For instance, if we were stranded in the jungle without weapons, we were told to build bows and arrows out of tree branches and vines.”
“But, Max, the only thing that’s available here is snow.”
Von BOOM snorted. “We’re going to fight them off with snowballs, I suppose,” he said.
99 looked at him crossly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Professor,” she said. “I’m sure Max has some sensible plan in mind.” She turned back to Max. “What are we going to do, Max?”
“We’re going to fight them off with snowballs, 99,” Max replied.
“Oh . . . Max . . .”
“But not just plain ordinary everyday snowballs,” Max continued. “These snowballs are going to be loaded.”
“With what, Max?” 99 asked gloomily.
“With cans of dog food.”
“Max! That might work!”
Quickly, Max, 99 and von BOOM began making dog-food-can-loaded-snowballs. As soon as they had a high pile of them they began firing them at the dim white figures that were circling the shelter.
“Oh, Max . . . it isn’t working,” 99 said.
“And we’re out of dog food cans,” von BOOM added.
“Well, at least we tried,” Max said. “I suppose now all we can do is—”
“Max! Look! They’re going away!”
“By jingo, they are!” von BOOM said.
“All except one,” Max pointed out. “He’s coming this way. He probably wants to ask for surrender terms.”
“Max,” 99 said, “that one isn’t wearing a white suit.”
“Because he’s the leader, I imagine,” Max said. “The leader always wears a different uniform. Otherwise, no one would recognize that he was a leader.”
The man reached the shelter and raised a hand as a sign of peaceful intentions. He was brown skinned and wearing a parka made of animal hides.
“Welcome, tourists!” the man smiled.
“Max,” 99 said, surprised. “He’s an Eskimo!”
“Nanook is the name. Blubber is the game,” the Eskimo said. “I saw you tourists feeding the polar bears, so I figured you were lost, and I thought I’d stop by and give you directions. Where’re you bound?”
“Polar bears?” Max said suspiciously.
“Those animals that, in a snow storm, look a little like men running around in white suits,” the Eskimo explained.
“But they had us surrounded!” Max protested.
“That’s a little trick they play,” the Eskimo smiled. “When they spot a bunch of tourists in a snow storm, they make out like they’re attacking. I think they saw it in a cowboys and Indians movie.”
&
nbsp; “But why?” 99 asked.
“The tourists always panic and start throwing cans of dog food at them,” the Eskimo explained. “It’s the only civilized food these bears get. Mostly, they live on fish. Ever try living on fish? Try it sometime. After about a week of it, you’ll do anything for a can of dog food.”
“Sneaky bears,” Max muttered. “It’s a very poor policy. Nobody likes a sneaky bear.”
“What’re you folks up to?” the Eskimo asked. “Don’t tell me you’re another bunch of college kids looking for Santy Claus Land.”
“Hardly,” Max replied.
“I thought that little dumpy one looked a mite elderly to be a college kid.”
“What we’re looking for is the Pole,” Max said. “Is it far from here?”
“Just beyond the secret government laboratory where they’re going to develop that lightweight rocket fuel,” the Eskimo replied. He pointed. “Keep straight ahead until you come to a low brick building—that’s the secret lab. The Pole is just on the other side of the next sand dune.”
“Snow dune,” Max corrected.
“That just never sounded right to me,” the Eskimo explained. He then wished Max, 99 and von BOOM luck and went on his way.
“Shall we move out?” Max said. “It looks like the mission can’t possibly fail now. We’re only minutes from the secret laboratory.”
“Max, the wind is getting stronger again,” 99 said.
“Hurry!” Max urged.
They scrambled out of the shelter, harnessed the dogs to the sled, and set out once more, racing across the snow in the direction the Eskimo had pointed. The wind howled about their heads. Snow piled high in drifts.
“Max . . . we’ll never make it . . .” 99 cried.
“Mush!” Max shouted.
“Max, you don’t have to be nasty!”
“I was shouting at the dogs, 99!”
“Max! Up ahead! It’s— It’s a low brick building, Max!”
“The lab! Courage, 99! Only a few more steps!”
Battling the wind, they struggled on. Step by step they neared the low brick building. Then, finally, almost exhausted, they reached it. Max threw open the door. They staggered through the opening. 99 collapsed on the floor. Fighting the storm, Max closed the door, then, totally spent, he, too, dropped to the floor.
Get Smart 7 - Max Smart - The Spy Who Went Out to the Cold Page 13