Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again!

by William Johnston

“The boat!”

  “Mmmmm . . . that’s bad,” Max said. “If it were the plug, I think we could survive. But the boat, that’s another matter.”

  “But what about you?” Peaches said to Noman. “Won’t you sink, too?”

  Noman grinned again. “I’m taking a leaf from Max’s notebook,” he said. “I’m being picked up by helicopter.” He backed toward the door. “In one hour,” he said, “we’ll shove off!”

  “Why in one hour?” Max asked. “Why not now?”

  Noman took a timetable from his pocket. “See?” he said. “It’s right here on the schedule. The boat doesn’t leave for another hour.”

  Max nodded. “That answers my question, thank you.”

  Noman backed out the doorway. “Keep your feet dry!” he taunted.

  Then he slammed the door.

  Max rushed to the door and tried to turn the knob. “Locked!” he said. “We’re prisoners!”

  “Max! What can we do?”

  “I’m not sure. But, at least, we have an hour to do it in. Try to think of something.”

  “Help!” Peaches screamed.

  Max shook his head. “That won’t help. You’ll never be able to keep it up for an hour. In ten minutes, you’ll have laryngitis.”

  10.

  MAX STUDIED the door of the cabin. “That doesn’t look too sturdy to me,” he said. “I think I can break it down.”

  “Then do! Don’t just stand around telling me about it!”

  Max backed away, then threw his full weight against the door. He bounced off it, hit one wall, then another wall, then the third wall, then tumbled over a chair and landed on his back on the floor.

  “Nice try,” Peaches said gloomily.

  “Well, I—”

  Max was interrupted by a knocking sound on one of the walls.

  “Who’s there?” Max called.

  “Quiet!” a voice replied.

  “That’s the other passenger!” Max said to Peaches. “He, she or it is in the next cabin!”

  “What good does that do us?”

  “I’m not sure,” Max replied. “But . . . he, she or it might have an idea. We can use all the help we can get.”

  Max got out his ballpoint pen and pressed the button twice. A tongue of flame shot from the end. Max immediately set to work to burn a hole through the wall.

  “That he, she or it is probably Noman,” Peaches grumbled.

  “We’ll soon know.”

  Max removed a round section from the wall, then looked into the hole. He saw Agent 99 peering at him from the other side.

  “99!”

  “Max!”

  “Who is it?” Peaches asked.

  “It’s 99!”

  “Well, we’ll outnumber Noman, anyway,” Peaches said. “Ninety-nine and you and me, that makes one-hundred-and-one.”

  “No, no, this is Agent 99. She’s one of our men.”

  “Men?” Peaches said.

  “Men?” 99 said.

  “That’s a generic term,” Max explained. “At Control, all agents are men. Isn’t that right, 99?”

  Silence.

  “99?”

  “I’m not speaking to you.”

  “Then let me put it another way,” Max said. “At Control, all agents are men—except the women.”

  Smiling, 99 appeared at the hole again. “Max, what are you doing on this boat?” she said.

  “A very good question,” Max replied. “So good, in fact, that I’ll use it myself. 99, what are you doing on this boat?”

  “I told you this morning—I’m going on an excursion.”

  “Oh . . . yes. Well, so are we. But not very far. A KAOS agent named Noman has taken over the boat, and he intends to sink it in the ocean.”

  “A KAOS agent? But, Max, the only other person on board is Cap’n Andy.”

  “That’s Noman.”

  “Well, you may be right. I suspected as much. I understand he—or she—wears a corset.”

  “No, no—Noman is his name.”

  “Max! Something has to be done!” 99 said.

  “That’s very observant of you, 99. And, I think I have an idea. First, I want you to come around and open our door. It locks from the outside.”

  “Will do, Max.”

  A few seconds later, they heard a sound at the door. Then it opened.

  “Fine, so far,” Max said to 99. “Now, we’ll go to your cabin.”

  “How will that help, Max?”

  “Noman doesn’t know that you’re a Control agent, does he?”

  “No, I didn’t mention it.”

  Max stopped and picked up a length of rope from the deck. “This will come in handy,” he said.

  “You haven’t told me what we’re going to do.”

  “You haven’t told me, either,” Peaches said.

  “Incidentally,” 99 said, looking Peaches up and down, “who is she?”

  “She’s a cryptographer.”

  “I take pictures of graves,” Peaches explained.

  “That’s not what a cryptographer does,” 99 frowned. “A cryptographer deciphers codes.”

  “Now you tel me—after I’ve become famous for my pictures of graves!” Peaches said.

  “She’s being facetious, 99,” Max explained. “Her responsibility on this mission is to break the KAOS code and decipher the Dooms Day Plan. But her one-track mind has jumped the track.”

  “I’m giving up business for romance,” Peaches said.

  “Max, I don’t understand any of this,” 99 complained.

  “Never mind. Just follow orders,” Max said.

  “All right.”

  They entered 99’s cabin, and Max closed the door behind them.

  “Now,” he said to 99, “use the intercom system and call the Cap’n and order a basket of fruit.”

  “A basket of fruit, Max?”

  “Tell him you need it for a bon voyage party.”

  “Oh . . . yes, I see.”

  “Have him include some purple grapes,” Peaches said. “Purple grapes are romantic.”

  “Never mind her,” Max said to 99. “Call.”

  99 did as Max requested. And a few minutes later there was a knock at the cabin door.

  “Who is it?” 99 called.

  “One basket of fruit!”

  Max stationed himself at the doorway, holding the length of rope at the ready. He motioned to 99.

  “Come in, basket of fruit,” 99 called.

  The door opened. Noman entered, carrying a large basket of fruit.

  Max leaped at him—and looped the rope tightly over the basket of fruit. Fruit rolled all over the floor.

  “That’s dirty!” Noman cried, jumping back and pulling his gun.

  But, as he jumped back, he stepped on a banana. His feet flew into the air. The gun slipped from his grasp and slid across the floor.

  99 snatched up the gun and pointed it at him.

  “Watch out!” Noman cried. “That gun is loaded!”

  “Yes,” Max said, “and your ‘other passenger’, who is, in fact, Agent 99 of Control, will use it.”

  “Have her put it down,” Noman begged. “A woman with a gun makes me nervous.”

  “She will—in just one moment,” Max replied. “First, get to your feet.”

  Noman scrambled up.

  “Now, sit in that chair,” Max commanded.

  Noman sat in the chair.

  Max tied him tightly. “Now,” he said to 99, “hand me a handkerchief, please.”

  99 handed him a handkerchief.

  Max stuffed it in Noman’s mouth. “There you are, nicely bound and gagged,” he said. “Now—talk!”

  “Mrrrrmph,” Noman replied.

  “Max, he can’t talk with a gag in his mouth,” 99 pointed out.

  “Oh . . . yes.” Max removed the gag. “Now—talk!” he said again.

  “Well,” Noman began, “I was born in a log cabin in Greenwich Village. My father was a poor but honest silversmith and my mother was
a Zen Buddhist monk. As a child—”

  “That’s very interesting,” Max broke in. “But it isn’t what I want to hear.”

  Noman looked at him quizzically. “What is it you want to hear?”

  Max frowned thoughtfully. “Well, let’s see . . .”

  “May I tell you a little more about my childhood while you think?” Noman said.

  “Yes, that would be—”

  “Max,” 99 said, “isn’t it something about a Dooms Day Plan?”

  “Right,” Max replied. “Thank you, 99.”

  “I just wish I knew what was going on,” 99 said.

  “You’ll soon find out,” Max said. He turned back to Noman. “As a member of KAOS,” he said, “you are probably familiar with the KAOS code.”

  “Know it well,” Noman replied. “In fact, I always get a gold star on code tests.”

  “Good. Then it will be an easy matter for you to decipher the Dooms Day Plan.”

  “I wouldn’t even have to decipher it,” Noman said. “I know what it says by heart.”

  “All right. The next step, then, I think, would be for you to tell us what it says.”

  Noman shook his head. “I’d lose all my gold stars,” he said. “That’s the penalty for snitching.”

  “Apparently we’ll have to apply some pressure,” Max said.

  “You’ll never get anything from me,” Noman replied. “Stick bamboo slivers under my fingernails, tweeze my eyebrows, tickle the bottoms of my feet—but I’ll never talk.”

  “I have something a lit-tle more diabolical in mind,” Max said. He reached into his pocket and got out his ballpoint pen and handed it to Peaches. “This pen, when used as a pen, contains indelible ink,” he said.

  “That’s the kind that can’t be erased,” Noman explained to her.

  “I know!” she snapped.

  Max next handed her his notebook. “Using indelible ink,” he said, “I want you to write in this notebook the phrase, ‘I will never ever again be a silly cryptographer.’ And I want you to write it one hundred times.”

  Peaches shrugged. “All right—if it’ll help.”

  “It won’t make me talk,” Noman said stoutly.

  “We’ll see about that,” Max smirked.

  “Max,” 99 said, “I don’t understand any of this, either.”

  “Simple, 99,” Max replied. “As soon as Peaches has written ‘I will never ever again be a silly cryptographer’ one hundred times in indelible ink, I will try to erase it.”

  “Do you have an eraser, Max?”

  “No, but I do have a man with an India rubber face.”

  “But indelible ink can’t be erased!” Noman protested. “Your so-called eraser will give out.”

  “Exactly,” Max said.

  “You mean—”

  “Yes, Noman—I’m going to rub you out!”

  “No!” Noman screeched. “I’ll talk!”

  “I thought that would do it,” Max smiled. “Now—talk!”

  “Well, I was born in a little log cabin in—”

  “Not that! Decipher the code!” He bent closer to Noman. “What is the Dooms Day Plan?”

  “It’s a menu,” Noman sobbed.

  “That’s hard to believe,” Max replied. “Try again.”

  “I tell you, it’s a menu.”

  “You have one more chance,” Max said, “then Peaches begins writing.”

  “Honest,” Noman insisted. “Scout’s honor. On my word as a gold star KAOS agent. It’s a menu.”

  Max took the Plan from his pocket and looked at it:

  Sad Al

  Astor

  Mays

  Bronco Con

  Map Change

  Three Bs

  Watch

  “That’s a menu?” he said. “What’s it for—mixed grill?”

  “You have to know the code,” Noman replied.

  “I see. You use the Hoppman method, I assume.”

  “No, that stuffs too complicated,” Noman replied. “We just scramble the letters.”

  “Scramble the letters,” Max mused. He looked at the Dooms Day Plan again. This time, unscrambling the letters in his mind, he saw:

  Salad

  Roast

  Yams

  Corn on Cob

  Champagne

  Sherbet

  Watch

  He looked at Noman again. “That makes a tempting meal,” he said. “All except that last item. Is that watch with or without onion sauce?”

  “The watch isn’t on the menu,” Noman replied. “The watch comes after.”

  “After what?”

  “Well, you see, this is a menu for a testimonial dinner. And, after the dinner is finished, we’ll give Arthur the watch. It’s a gold watch. In honor of his twenty-five years of faithful service.”

  “Arthur?”

  “Yes. Arthur has been with the organization for twenty-five years, and now he’s retiring. So, we’re having a special day for him, and throwing him a testimonial dinner, and giving him a gold watch.”

  “I see. A special day.”

  “Right.”

  “And Arthur’s last name is—”

  “Dooms,” Noman replied.

  “Arthur Dooms. Yes, it’s all coming clear. And this,” he said, rattling the sheet of paper, “is the Dooms Day Plan.”

  “Absolutely right.”

  “It’s a bit of a letdown,” Max sighed.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” Max said. “Why did you go to so much trouble to keep the Plan out of our hands?”

  “Well, the code is so simple, we thought you’d break it,” Noman replied. “Any kindergarten child could break our code.”

  Peaches hauled back a fist. “I’ll slug ’im!”

  99 held her back.

  “That’s no discredit to you,” Max said to her. “You’re not a kindergarten child.”

  “Well . . . if you put it that way . . .” Peaches muttered, lowering her fist.

  Max addressed Noman again. “Suppose we had broken the code,” he said. “It’s only a menu.”

  “Yes, but we thought that if you saw the word ‘watch’ at the end of the Plan you’d know the menu was for a testimonial dinner.”

  “What’s so wrong about that?” Max asked, puzzled.

  “Think, Max,” Noman said. “What is KAOS’s image?”

  “You’re the bad guys.”

  “Right. And do bad guys throw testimonial dinners? Hardly. It would destroy our image. We’d be thought of as an organization of sentimentalists—a bunch of softies.”

  “Now, I understand,” Max said.

  “What do we do now, Max?” 99 asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Max smiled. “We have the means to destroy KAOS for once and all.”

  “We do?”

  “We’ll publicize this Dooms Day Plan,” Max said. “KAOS’s image will be destroyed, and—what’s an organization of bad guys without its image?”

  “That’s marvelous, Max!” 99 said.

  “Max! Think before you do that!” Noman pleaded. “Think of all the bad guys you’ll be putting out of work!”

  “Sorry. But the guilty will just have to suffer with the innocent,” Max replied. “I’m going to take this Plan to the Chief. I’m sure he’ll agree with me that it should be publicized. I can see the headline now: ‘KAOS Unmasked! Bad Guys Revealed To Be a Bunch of Softies! ’ ”

  Noman shuddered.

  “Let’s go,” Max said to 99 and Peaches. “I want to get this Plan to the Chief as soon as possible.”

  “What about him?” 99 asked, indicating Noman.

  “We’ll leave him here—tied up,” Max replied. “It’s the only way we can be sure he won’t make another attempt to get the Dooms Day Plan.”

  “Good thinking, Max!” 99 said.

  Max, 99 and Peaches left the boat and went to Max’s car. Peaches was the last one to get into the car, and as she did, she slamm
ed the door.

  A cannon fired out of the front of the car. The shell passed through one side of the boat and came out the other. Slowly, the boat began to sink.

  “Didn’t I warn you about that door!” Max snapped at Peaches.

  “Never mind that, Max!” 99 said. “We can’t leave Noman on board the boat. He’ll drown.”

  “He’s a bad guy,” Max replied. “That’s what bad guys deserve.”

  “Max—that doesn’t sound like you!”

  “Oh . . . all right.”

  Max got out of the car and returned to the boat. A few minutes later, he returned. But Noman was not with him.

  “He’s not there,” Max said.

  “He’s escaped?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “But, Max,” 99 said, “you had him tied so tightly.”

  “Correction,” Max replied. “My guess is that it was his corset that I had tied so tightly. Evidently he slipped out of his corset and . . . Well, you’d know more about that than I would.”

  “Too bad,” 99 said.

  “Yes. We’ll have to keep a sharp lookout,” Max said. “I suspect he’ll try to get the Plan from us. Without the Plan—the evidence in writing—we’d have no proof that the KAOS boys are, in fact, a bunch of softies.”

  “We’d better hurry, Max,” 99 said.

  Max got behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove off.

  “Can you find Control headquarters?” Peaches asked.

  “That’s a ridiculous question,” Max said. “Of course, I can—as long as 99 is along to point out the way.”

  Not long after that they reached Control headquarters. Max parked the car, and they got out. But as they walked toward the building, Max suddenly put out a hand, stopping Peaches and 99.

  “That man—there at the entrance,” Max said. “Doesn’t he look familiar?”

  “Of course, Max,” 99 replied. “That’s Agent 44.”

  “How do we know that?” Max said. “My guess is that it’s Noman posing as Agent 44.”

  “Well . . .”

  “I say no,” Peaches said. “That man doesn’t look anything like Noman.”

  “When you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you’ll learn not to trust your own eyes,” Max said. “To quote a well-known KAOS agent, ‘The proof is in the pudding.’ 99, I’ll approach the fellow—whoever he is—pretend to shake hands with him, throw him to the ground, and pin him there—while you frisk him.”

  “All right, Max.”

  Max approached the man, extending a hand.