Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again!

by William Johnston

  Max: My best wishes. Over.

  Tower: Care to hear a ukulele solo? Over.

  Max: I thought you were going off duty. Over.

  Tower: We could consider it an encore. I don’t mind cheating a bit if it will help my career. Over.

  Max: All right. May I make a request? Over.

  Tower: Anything you want to hear. Over.

  Max: Give me one chorus of ‘How to Land an Airplane that is Headed Straight for the Ground with the Controls Locked’. Over.

  Tower: In what key? Over.

  Max: At this point, I don’t think it matters very much. Looking out the window, I see that we’re only about ten feet from the ground. Over.

  Tower: I think you better make that ‘Over and Out’. Over and out.

  Max put aside the microphone. He turned to Peaches. “It might be a good idea to close your eyes,” he suggested. “I suspect the next few minutes are going to be rather messy.”

  “Max! No! Look! The plane is leveling off!”

  Max stared out the window. “Fantastic! We’re coming in for a perfect three-point landing!”

  “What happened?” Peaches said, baffled.

  “Apparently I’m a better pilot than I thought,” Max replied. “Which is pretty amazing, since I’ve never had a lesson in my life.”

  “Max, you didn’t do anything.”

  “Then who, what—” Max suddenly brightened. “Of course!”

  “What is it?”

  “Follow me,” Max said.

  He got out of the pilot’s seat, left the cockpit, and made his way down the aisle toward the rear of the plane. Peaches tagged after him, perplexed. Max entered the rear section of the plane, then opened the door to the compartment that housed the control wires. The emotionless face of Agent 44 appeared in the opening.

  “You did it!” Max said.

  “I’m sorry, Max,” 44 replied sheepishly. “I was just fooling around. I got lonesome back here. Did I break anything?”

  “Only our fall,” Max replied. “We were crashing, 44, and you brought us in for a perfect landing!”

  “Imagine that! And I’ve never had a lesson in my life.”

  “You have a natural talent, obviously,” Max said. “Don’t spoil it, 44, by taking lessons.”

  “I won’t.”

  “So long, 44,” Max said. “And thanks again.”

  “My pleasure. See you around, Max.”

  Max closed the door, then led the way out of the plane.

  As they crossed the runway toward the terminal, Peaches said, “Max, I’m not interested in doing any more flying today.”

  “Relax,” Max replied. “Since I. M. Noman probably waited around to see the crash, and then saw us land, he’s undoubtedly still here at the airport. I imagine he’s just itching for us to get aboard another plane—so he can plan another of his devilish tricks. But, we’re going to out-fox him. We’re going to drive to New York!”

  “Is your car here, Max?”

  “My car is parked in front of Control headquarters,” Max replied. “We couldn’t use it, anyway. It has a bug in it. Every time I slam the door the cannon goes off.”

  “I won’t ask you to explain that. But, tell me, if you don’t have your car here, how are we going to drive to New York?”

  “Simple. We’ll rent a car.”

  “That is simple!” Peaches said, surprised. “How did you think of it?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Max replied.

  They entered the terminal, then went to the rent-a-car desk.

  “We’d like to rent a car,” Max said to the girl behind the counter.

  “Fancy that!” she replied. “Most of our customers ask for elephants.”

  “That’s very funny,” Max said sourly. “But, do you mind? We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Where are you taking this car?” the girl said.

  “I’m sorry. That’s classified information.”

  “Well . . . when will you bring it back?”

  “Sorry. Top secret.”

  “Why don’t you take a bus?” the girl suggested. “There’s always a bus leaving every-hour-on-the-hour—more or less—and you can leave the driving to the bus driver.”

  “Madam, we want to rent a car.”

  “All right. Tell me where you’re taking it.”

  Max sighed. “New York, then possibly Moscow, then possibly Peking.”

  “Moscow and Peking are across a couple of oceans, aren’t they?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Max replied. “I intended to stop at a filling station on the way and ask.”

  “Will you promise not to get water in our ash trays?”

  “The minute we reach the ocean,” Max replied, “I’ll wrap your ash trays in waterproof bags.”

  “Fine. We’re very careful about our ash trays. Do what you want with the rest of the car, but please take care of the ash trays.” She made an unpleasant face. “Some of our customers put ashes in them.”

  “May we have the car now?”

  The girl handed him a card. “This is your authorization. Just go up to the roof. A car will be along in a minute.”

  Max peered at her. “The roof?”

  “That’s the only way you can get a car from us. We drive it by and you jump into it from the roof. That’s how we put you in the driver’s seat.”

  Max turned and looked around the terminal. “Does the second largest rent-a-car outfit have an office here?” he said.

  “Oh, all right. If you’re chicken, you can get into the driver’s seat any way you want to. But don’t expect to see yourself on TV.”

  Max and Peaches left the desk and went outside. Soon, a car pulled up—driverless—and they got into it and drove off.

  “Do you know the way to New York?” Peaches asked.

  “Of course. I have a map of every country and state in the world etched in my mind.”

  “Then how do you get to New York?”

  “Simple. You head straight toward the top of the page. You drive through the yellow state and the green state, and when you get to the pink state, you’re in New York.”

  “I’m relieved,” Peaches said. “For a second, I didn’t think you really knew.” She leaned back in her seat. “Now, may I have the Plan? While we’re driving, I’ll try to decipher it.”

  Max handed her the Dooms Day Plan. “I don’t actually need it any more,” he said. “The words are etched in my mind.”

  “I think I’ll try transposing the letters into mathematical symbols,” Peaches said. “That’s the Phorbisher system.”

  “Lots of luck,” Max said. “I’ll stick to my own system, if you don’t mind.”

  Peaches pointed to the speedometer. “You’re driving too fast.”

  “I can’t help it,” Max replied. “This is the way secret agents are required to drive. Scary, isn’t it?”

  “But what’s the hurry?”

  “There isn’t any hurry. But when a secret agent drives, he has to drive fast. Rule No. 13.”

  “Isn’t 13 bad luck?”

  “It is if you and another secret agent happen to meet at a cross street.”

  Peaches suddenly sat up. “What’s that? That sound. It sounds like a siren!”

  Max looked in the rear-view mirror. “There’s a police car following us,” he said. “Probably chasing some criminal.”

  “Or a speeder?”

  “Yes, that’s possible.” Max peered ahead. “But I don’t see a speeder.”

  “You, you idiot!”

  “Oh,” Max winced.

  The police car, siren wailing, drew up alongside. The trooper at the wheel motioned for Max to pull over.

  “He’s signaling!” Peaches said.

  “Are you sure? Maybe he’s just waving. After all, we’re in the same trade—more or less.”

  “Pull over!” Peaches insisted.

  Max slowed down and eased the car off the highway, then stopped. The police car came to a halt, too, and the tro
oper got out and walked back to Max’s car. The trooper was plump. He looked like a typical trooper.

  “Where’s the conflagration?” the trooper asked.

  “Conflagration, officer?”

  “That’s college talk for ‘fire’,” the trooper explained. “I’m one of the new breed of police officers—college educated.”

  “Oh. Well, actually, there isn’t any fire. That is, not that I know of. Although, considering the number of little boys who play with matches, I suppose there must be a fire somewhere.”

  “I’ll have to take you in,” the trooper said.

  “What’s the charge, officer?”

  “Speeding.”

  “Well then, I’m afraid I’ll have to take you in, too, officer,” Max said. “You were driving as fast—if not faster—than I was. Faster, I believe. See? Your car is parked ahead of mine, so you must have been driving faster. I’ll have to make a citizen’s arrest.”

  The trooper smiled. “That’s only fair,” he said. “Who’ll lead?”

  “Lead?”

  “We’ll have to drive to the courthouse in the nearest town and face the judge,” the trooper explained. “I could lead, or you could lead. As long as we both get there, the judge won’t mind.”

  “I don’t believe I know the way,” Max said.

  “Then I’ll lead. Follow me.”

  Max started to get out of his car.

  “No,” the trooper said, “I mean follow me in your car. I’ll be in my car.”

  “Lucky you went to college,” Max said. “Otherwise, I might have had a long walk ahead of me.”

  The trooper returned to his car, got in, then proceeded along the highway. Max and Peaches followed in their car.

  “Wasn’t there something familiar about that trooper?” Peaches said.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. He reminds me a little of Harry Hagedorn, a boy I knew in seventh grade. Except that Harry was much shorter. Of course, he was only thirteen at the time.”

  “No, I mean someone we’ve met recently.”

  “The girl at the rent-a-car desk?”

  Peaches shook her head.

  “Beats me,” Max said. “Maybe it will come to you.”

  They entered a small town. The streets were totally deserted. The buildings looked extremely temporary—as if they might consist only of false fronts.

  “These picturesque small towns fascinate me,” Max said. “This one looks almost like a movie set—as if it were put up for some special purpose and would be torn down tomorrow.”

  “It does look unlived in,” Peaches frowned.

  “Ahh . . . here we are,” Max said, pulling up behind the trooper’s car, which had stopped.

  Max and Peaches got out, and joined the trooper, who was waiting.

  “The courthouse is just up the street a ways,” the trooper said.

  “A ways?”

  “I talk that rustic talk when I stop in these small towns,” the trooper explained. “Let ’em know you have a college education, and you’re dead.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. Well, lead the ways.”

  They marched up the street.

  “Isn’t it strange that none of the natives are out on the street?” Peaches said.

  “Not really,” Max replied. “Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun. There probably isn’t a mad dog or Englishman in the whole town.”

  “None of the stores seem to be open. In fact, I don’t think they’ve ever been open.”

  Max stopped and rubbed a clean spot on the dusty window of a store. He saw the face of Agent 44 peering out at him from inside. Max nodded, then moved on.

  “I’m worried,” Peaches said.

  “Relax,” Max said. “We have at least one friend in this town.”

  “Who?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it.”

  The trooper stopped in front of a dilapidated building. “This is it,” he said. “It’s not much, but it’s fine for collecting fines.”

  “Fine,” Max replied.

  They entered the building, then the trooper led them into a small courtroom.

  “The judge is probably in the back room,” the trooper said. “I’ll get him.”

  “Don’t try to sneak away,” Max said. “Remember—you’re under arrest.”

  “Promise.”

  The trooper disappeared into the back room. “Max, I’m getting worrieder and worrieder,” Peaches said.

  “I don’t see why. Speaking as our lawyer, I’m sure I can get us off. Our arrest, as I see it, is clearly unconstitutional. It violates our freedom of speedsh.” He smiled. “Get it?”

  “Where do I get another lawyer?”

  “Never fear. With me—”

  Max was interrupted by the sound of the door of the back room opening. The judge appeared. He was plump, and looked like a typical small town judge.

  “Your Honor, first I want to say that this is a travesty of justice,” Max said. “Next, I’d like to say: Where is the trooper who arrested us?”

  “He left by the back door,” the judge replied. “He’s got to get back to the highway and catch himself another city slicker.”

  “But that man was under arrest!” Max protested. “I caught him speeding!”

  “He told me all about it,” the judge said, seating himself at his bench. “I tossed the case out of court and released him. You were violating his constitutional right of freedom of the press.”

  “I don’t quite understand that, Judge.”

  “His freedom to press charges against you,” the judge explained.

  “Oh. Well, in that case . . .”

  “Now, we’ll get to your case,” the Judge said. “How do you plead?”

  “What’s the choice?” Max asked.

  “Guilty or Not Guilty or Somewhere-in-Between,”

  “How about a little sample of each?” Max suggested.

  “The Court finds you guilty,” the Judge said. “Do you have a statement to make before sentence is passed? Too late. You had your chance and muffed it. Now, I’ll pass sentence.”

  “That wasn’t much of a chance, Judge,” Max complained. “And I had a dandy statement all ready, too.”

  “Sorry about that,” the Judge said. “Rise, please, so I can pass sentence.”

  “We’re already standing, Judge.”

  “I thought you looked pretty tall for a pair who were sitting down.”

  “Judge, if you don’t mind, would you get it over with?” Max said. “We have other fish to fry.”

  The Judge cleared his throat, then said, “I sentence you to hand over the Dooms Day Plan.”

  “Max!” Peaches squealed. “It just came to me—that’s Noman!”

  “That’s hard to believe,” Max said.

  The Judge pulled a pistol and pointed it at Max. “Would you believe this?”

  Max nodded. “That, I believe. Noman, I’ll have to give you credit—you’ve done it again. You’re a worthy adversary.”

  “Stow the gab and hand over the Plan,” Noman said.

  “Not likely,” Max replied. “Before I’d hand over the Plan to you, I’d burn it.”

  “With the same life raft you used to burn it last time?” Noman smirked.

  “Max Smart never makes the same mistake twice,” Max said. He took his ballpoint pen from his pocket. “This pen, among other things, happens to be an acetylene torch,” he said. “I’ll just depress the button on the top and—”

  There was the sound of a small motor.

  “That’s the hair-dryer again, Max,” Peaches said.

  “Well, if at first you don’t succeed—” Max depressed the button again.

  Noman leaned forward over the bench, looking puzzled. “What are you going to do with one chopstick?”

  “Let’s not panic,” Max said. “There’s an acetylene torch in there somewhere.”

  “You’re not operating the pen correctly,” Noman said. “You should use both hands. Here, let me take that sheet of
paper you’re holding in your left hand—just to get it out of your way.”

  “That might help,” Max said. He handed the sheet of paper to Noman.

  “Max! You gave him the Plan!” Peaches shrieked.

  “No, I didn’t. I gave him— Oh, yes . . . that is the Plan, isn’t it. Well, I guess that’s a horse on me.”

  “And, now—once more—I bid you adieu,” Noman said. “Happy landing!”

  “I don’t think that’s the appropriate farewell,” Max said. “We’re no longer in a plane.”

  “No, but you’re standing over a trap door. The effect will be the same. I’ll just pull this lever, and—”

  The trap door opened beneath Max and Peaches.

  Peaches screamed.

  Max reached out and snatched the Plan from Noman.

  Then they disappeared beneath the floor.

  Noman sighed woefully. “Will I ever learn?”

  6.

  SURPRISINGLY, MAX and Peaches landed on a soft carpet. When they looked around, they found they were in what appeared to be the living room of a comfortable suburban home. Besides the wall-to-wall carpet, there were comfortable-looking sofas and chairs, lamps and tables, and a large television set. And most surprising of all, the room was occupied. A number of men were seated around the TV set, absorbed in a program.

  “The only thing I can think of is, there must be a mistake,” Max said. “I think Noman used the wrong trap door.”

  Peaches shook her head. “No, Max. Look at the door. It has bars on it.”

  “Oh, yes, I see. Well, if I had to be in a cell, this is the cell I’d choose.” He frowned. “I wonder what those other prisoners are in for?”

  “They seem happy enough,” Peaches said. “They must be drugged or something. They didn’t even look up when we dropped through the floor.”

  “Let’s check it out,” Max said.

  They moved to the nearest chair, where a middle-aged man was seated, hunched forward, staring at the TV screen.

  “Excuse me,” Max said. “I wonder—”

  “Shhhhh!” the man said, annoyed, keeping his eyes on the screen.

  “I guess we’ll have to wait for a commercial,” Max said.

  As they waited, they watched the program. It was a soap opera, in which the heroine, Little Eva, was being chased across an ice floe by the villain, Simon Legree, and a pack of bloodhounds.