“I can settle that,” Max said, turning his back to the Captain. “Read that! What does it say?”
The Captain squinted. “It says: ‘Indian tent, totem pole, fat kangaroo, skinny—”
“No, no, the lettering,” Max interrupted.
“Max, that’s what the lettering says,” 99 explained. “It ran when it got wet in the pool. Now, Acme Air-Conditioning Repair looks like an Indian tent and a totem pole and a fat—”
“I know,” the Captain broke in, “I’ll believe you both. Max, because I believe you, I’ll let you go. And, because I also believe the steward, I’ll tell you this: The next time you get caught, you go to the brig!”
“I’ll accept that decision,” Max said.
“So will I,” the steward smiled. “With their luck, they’ll be there before lunch.”
“Yes,” Max snapped, “and with your luck, you’ll be the one who puts us there!”
“That’s telling ’im, Max!” the Captain beamed.
6.
“HOW ARE we going to outwit that steward, Max?” 99 asked when they got outside the Captain’s office.
“Simple, 99. The old element of surprise.”
“But how exactly, Max?”
“Well, he expects us to begin searching staterooms again, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“So, we’ll pull the old switcheroo. We’ll stop searching staterooms altogether.”
“Max, I don’t know how you do it! That steward will never figure that out!”
Max smiled modestly, “I’ve learned a few tricks in my life,” he admitted.
“There’s only one thing, Max,” 99 said. “If we stop searching staterooms, how will we ever find the six invisible guinea pigs?”
“That happens to be one of the tricks I haven’t learned,” Max replied.
“You mean, Max, we’re stymied?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Then, we’re not stymied?”
“Oh, we’re stymied, all right. But that’s not the way I would have said it. I would have said that we’re stopped.”
“Oh, Max,” 99 fretted. “We just can’t be stopped. The whole civilized world is depending on us.”
Max suddenly brightened. “Wait a minute, 99! On second thought, we’re not stopped! We’re not even stymied! 99, we’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve been fools!”
“Rorrrrrff!”
“All right, Fang, consider yourself included out. I’ve been a fool!”
“What did we do wrong, Max?” 99 asked.
“We’ve been searching staterooms for empty suitcases, that’s what we did wrong. Think about it a second, 99. Would a man as clever as the diabolical Dr. X leave a suitcase full of invisible guinea pigs in his stateroom? No. Of course not! Think! What would he do with it?”
“Check it in the ship’s safe?”
“No. Try again.”
“Rorff!”
“No, Fang, he wouldn’t paint it green and tell everybody it was a rubber plant.”
“Mail it on ahead?” 99 guessed.
“99, Dr. X is clever, but he isn’t that clever. One more try.”
“Rorff!”
“That’s ridiculous, Fang. In the first place, it wouldn’t fit in the toe of his shoe. And in the second place— Well, yes, the second place makes sense enough. But the first place rules it out.”
“I give up,” 99 said.
“You still have one more guess, 99.”
“No, Max, I give up. Tell me.”
“Aw, come on, guess. Just once more.”
“Rorff!”
Max groaned. “All right, Fang, you can have 99’s third guess. What is it?”
“Rorff!”
“That’s even more ridiculous than your rubber tree guess. Tell me, have you seen anybody walking about the deck with a suitcase with jingle bells on it and shouting ‘Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to All!’?”
“Max, are you going to tell us, or aren’t you!” 99 said.
“All right, here it is. My guess is that Dr. X is carrying that suitcase with him.”
“You mean everywhere? Wherever he goes?”
“Everywhere!” Max said. “Consequently, all we have to do is find a man carrying a suitcase.”
“Rorff!”
“I assure you, Fang, it won’t be that easy. He will not be shouting ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’.”
“Max, you know,” 99 said thoughtfully, “I think you may be right. After all, those guinea pigs are worth a fortune. He wouldn’t leave them in his stateroom.”
“Rorff?”
“Simple,” Max replied. “We’ll just stroll around the deck, acting like tourists, until we spot a man carrying a suitcase. That man will be the diabolical Dr. X. After all, why would anyone else be carrying a suitcase? Unless, of course, there are two men on board who are transporting invisible guinea pigs. But that’s highly unlikely.”
“Well, I guess we better start strolling,” 99 said.
“Rorff!”
Max shook his head. “No, Fang, you will not be a bigger help sitting in a deck chair and waving to us each time we go by.”
“Rorff!”
“I don’t know, but we’ll think of some way to keep count of our turns around the deck. Now, come on!”
They strolled off, leisurely.
“I’m glad you thought of this, Max,” 99 said. “We might not have had a chance to see the ship if you hadn’t.”
“Keep your mind on your business, 99. Watch out for a man with a suitcase—and for nothing else!”
“Max, I think I ought to watch out for—”
“Nothing else, 99!”
“But, Max, I think—”
She was too late. Max lay sprawled on the deck. “Why didn’t you warn me about that rope!” he glared. “I could have injured myself badly!”
“But, Max, you said—”
“Never mind what I said,” he grumbled, getting up. “I’m revising that order. From now on, keep an eye out for a man with a suitcase, and for ropes. Check?”
“Check, Max.”
They strolled on.
A little after midnight, the three, exhausted, dropped into deck chairs.
“Max,” 99 sighed weakly, “I can’t go another step.”
“We have to keep going,” Max breathed feebly.
“Rorff.”
“Fang, that doesn’t necessarily follow. The fact that you have four feet does not mean that you’ve walked twice as far as we have.
“Max, can’t we suspend the operation until tomorrow?” 99 said. “Not only am I bushed, but there isn’t anyone on deck to observe any more. They’re all inside—gone to bed or they’re at the dance in the ballroom.”
“You’ve got a point there,” Max said. “In fact, if you weren’t so tired, I’d suggest that we go to the dance. How do we know that the diabolical Dr. X isn’t, say, a rhumba enthusiast?”
99 jumped to her feet. “Max, I’m not a bit tired. Let’s go to the dance!”
“Well, much as I hate to, I think that’s—”
“Rorff!”
Max sat up. “Where, Fang?”
“Don’t listen to him, Max,” 99 said. “Let’s go to the dance.”
“But, 99, didn’t you hear what he said? He said he saw a shadowy figure slinking along the rail—and—carrying a suitcase!”
“I heard him, Max. You know what a wild imagination he’s got. Let’s go to the dance.”
“Sorry, 99—investigation before pleasure.”
“That’s what I say—let’s go to the dance.”
“Sh-sh-shhhhh!”
“All right, Max,” 99 said woefully.
Max peered into the dimness. “Yesssss . . . I think I do see a shadowy figure slinking along the rail—and—carrying a suitcase.”
“Male or female?” 99 whispered.
“I . . . can’t . . . quite . . . make out.”
“Max, it’s probably the Avon Lady.”
“No, th
ere are no doorbells on board ship,” Max replied.
“Of course! Max, that’s why she’s slinking. Now, can we go to the dance?”
“Wait! 99, it’s a man!”
“Rorff!”
“There is no such thing as an Avon Gentleman, Fang.” He quietly got to his feet. “Follow me,” he whispered.
“Where are you going, Max?”
“I’m going to follow that man. I think, finally we’re on the trail of the diabolical Dr. X, 99.”
Max tiptoed toward the rail, with 99 and Fang following closely behind him. Then, together, they trailed the shadowy figure as it made its way stealthily along the deck.
“Subject proceeding South between deck chairs and lifeboats,” Max whispered. “Subject acting very suspicious.”
“What’s he doing, Max?”
“Subject glancing back, as if he thinks he’s being followed.”
“That is suspicious, Max.”
“Yes, it must be a result of his guilt. I’m sure he doesn’t know he’s being followed.”
“He couldn’t,” 99 agreed. “We’re too expert at it. The subject never knows.”
“Wait, 99—” Max said, halting. “Subject has stopped. Subject is bending down. Alert for a trick, 99.”
“Alerted, Max.”
There was a second of silence. Then Max said, “Scratch that trick, 99. Subject is tying his shoe,”
“Trick scratched, Max.”
Max moved on. “Subject proceeding again. Subject glancing back nervously. Hold it! Now, subject is running!”
“What’ll we do, Max!”
Max made a sound of annoyance. “I hate to run after him,” he said. “Subject is liable to get the idea that he was right when he got the idea that we were following him. And if subject knows that he’s being followed, it spoils the fun of it.”
“Still . . . if we don’t run after him, Max, he’ll get away.”
“Yes, there is that to consider.”
“Max, if we stand here debating, subject will get away altogether.”
“That’s a very valid point, too,” Max agreed.
“Rorff!”
Max looked back over his shoulder. “You’re right, Fang—here he comes from the other direction. Apparently he made a complete circle of the deck. All right, gang, let him pass, then we’ll pick up his trail again.”
The figure dashed past.
“Now!” Max shouted. And the trio took off in pursuit.
“Where is he now, Max?”
“Subject is scrambling into a lifeboat!”
“What’ll we do, Max?”
“We’ll scramble into the lifeboat behind his lifeboat, of course.”
They scrambled into the second lifeboat, then Max peaked out from under the cover. “Subject seems to be becalmed,” he reported. “Wait—subject is now peeking out from under the cover of his lifeboat. Subject’s eyes look terrified—as if subject has discovered that his trackers are watching him from the lifeboat behind.”
“Do you think he’s on to us, Max?”
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”
“Max . . . here’s an idea,” 99 said. “Since he knows we’re following him, it seems a little silly for us to stay in hiding. Why don’t we climb out and confront him—tell him we know he’s Dr. X and demand the formula and the suitcase?”
“And give up the chase, 99? Now? Now, when it’s just getting thrilling?”
“Max, hiding in a lifeboat isn’t really my idea of thrilling.”
Max sighed. “All right. Everybody out. Approach subject and confront him with accusation ”
The trio scrambled out of the lifeboat
“He ducked under the cover,” Max reported. He snickered. “I used to do that when I was a kid I thought if I covered my head, I couldn’t be seen,” Reaching the lifeboat, he got hold of the cover. “Well, it didn’t work for me,” he said, “and it won’t work for him.”
With a sudden movement, Max raised the lifeboat cover. “There you are!” he said triumphantly.
But subject was nowhere in sight.
Max frowned. “Now, how did he do that? It never worked for me.”
“Max!” 99 cried. “There he goes! Out the other end of the lifeboat!”
“Tally-ho!” Max shouted, giving chase.
Subject dashed through a doorway.
The trio dashed after him.
“Stop!” Max called. “Stop in the name of all that’s civilized and decent!”
Subject plunged through another doorway.
“That’s the way it is with evil-doers,” Max grumbled. “They’re not at all interested in all that’s civilized and decent!”
“Where is he now, Max?”
“Subject has just entered ballroom, 99.”
Max stopped—and 99 and Fang pulled up behind him.
“Subject is doing the watusi with . . . with . . . well, the fact is, subject is doing the watusi alone.”
“What now, Max?”
“This calls for a counter maneuver, 99. To be more specific, an old-fashioned waltz. You and I will waltz over to subject and interrogate him on the dance floor.”
“All right, Max.”
Max took 99 in his arms and they began waltzing in the direction of subject.
A moment later, Max felt a nipping at his ankle. He looked down. “Yes, what is it, Fang?”
“Rorff!”
“No, you may not cut in!”
“Max,” 99 said, “subject is leaving us behind. He watusied right out the door.”
“Darn! And just when we were coming to the part where I whirl you around! Well . . . after him!”
The trio charged across the dance floor, then through the doorway.
“There subject goes!” Max pointed. “Down that dark corridor!”
They raced after subject.
“Can you see him, Max?”
“Yes, 99, he’s reached a dead end! He’s trapped!”
“Thank goodness. I’m winded.”
“Oops! Scratch that dead end, 99. He just ducked into a stateroom!”
“Dead end scratched, Max.”
They reached the end of the corridor. “In here,” Max said, indicating a stateroom door. “And, there’s no way out. This time, 99, we have him for sure!”
“Rorff!”
“No, Fang, I do not want to place any bets on it.”
Max slowly opened the stateroom door. He put his head in. Then he withdrew it, looking surprised.
“What is it, Max?”
“He’s in there,” Max replied.
“Yes . . . ?”
“He’s in there, sitting on the bed, waiting for us,” Max said, dazed.
“What else, Max?”
“That’s all. That’s it.”
“But you look so surprised.”
“99, as far as I can remember this has never happened before. Evil-doers always fight to the last. This evil-doer is giving up without a last-ditch struggle.” His eyes narrowed. “It must be a trick.”
“What can we do, Max?”
“Nothing, 99. The only choice we have is to walk into the trap. That’s the only way we’ll find out what it is.”
“Rorff!”
“No, Fang, going to our staterooms and getting a good night’s sleep will not make it go away.” He faced the doorway again. “All right—into the breach!”
Max pushed the door open.
Subject was still sitting on the bed, waiting. He was a round little man with a woebegone expression. His suitcase was resting on his lap.
“I surrender,” subject said. “You’ve got me. I give up.”
“A likely story,” Max sneered. “Go on—spring the trap and let’s get it over with.”
A tear rolled down subject’s cheek. “I never should have tried it,” he wept. “I was a fool. I should have known I couldn’t get away with it.”
“Watch out for those tears,” Max warned 99 and Fang. “They may be a nerve gas.”
; Subject shoved the suitcase at Max. “Take it! I never want to see it again,” he sobbed.
Max jumped back. “Ah-ah—no you don’t! That’s an old one, my friend! Your suitcase is triggered to explode when opened—right?”
“It’s just a suitcase,” subject wept.
Max smiled slyly. “If that’s true—then you open it,” he said.
“I can’t bear to look inside it any more,” subject moaned.
“Ah-hah! Caught you! Since when is it unbearable to look at something that can’t be seen?”
Subject stopped weeping and peered at Max. “Pardon?”
“The jig is up, Dr. X,” Max said. “We know what’s in that suitcase.”
“Yes, I know you know. That’s why—” He looked closer at Max. “What did you call me?”
“A-ho—here comes the trick. I suppose you’re going to deny that you are the diabolical Dr. X.”
Subject nodded. “I’m Hemingway James,” he said. “I live at 707 Spruce Street in Boston and I’m a retired banker.”
The sly smile reappeared on Max’s lips. “I see . . . and you’re carrying those six invisible guinea pigs to Europe to stash them away in a Swiss bank—right?”
Subject stared vacantly at Max for a second. Then he leaned his head back and screamed. “Heeeeelp!”
Max whipped out his pistol. “None of that!”
“You’re a nut!” Subject protested.
“Max . . . you know, maybe . . .” 99 began.
“99, don’t be fooled,” Max said. “I warned you that Dr. X was planning on pulling a trick.”
“Rorff!”
“Right—that’s the way to settle it,” Max said. He turned back to subject. “Open that suitcase. If there’s nothing in it, you’re as good as convicted.”
Subject suddenly hugged the suitcase to his chest. “I won’t!”
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Max said smugly. “Give me that suitcase!”
“There’s nothing in here but money!” subject protested.
“Money?”
“Yes. A million dollars. I stole it from the Boston Sheep Drovers and First National Bank.”
Max peered at him dubiously. “You stole a million dollars from a bank?”
“Well, not alone,” subject admitted. “I had a friend there.”
“I’m sorry,” Max said, “but I find that hard to believe.”
“Would you believe a half-million dollars?”
“Not likely.”
Get Smart 2 - Sorry, Chief . . . Page 7