Max strode to the door, whipped it open, charged from the room, and dashed down the corridor.
The Chief shook his head woefully.
99 rolled her eyes ceilingward.
Together and in silence they waited.
A few moments later, Max reappeared in the doorway. “99—you’re not with me,” he said chastisingly.
“Max—”
“99, there’s no more time for idle chatter! That KAOS agent is out there somewhere attempting to infiltrate our installations. We should be doing the same thing.”
“Max—think,” the Chief said. “Where is it you’ll be going?”
“To infiltrate our installations.”
“Where, Max . . . ?”
“I just told you. To infil—” Max frowned, thinking. “Oh, yes, I see what you mean. Apparently, Chief, I got Part I and Part II a little mixed up. And no wonder—with that echo in here. Let’s see now, it isn’t our installations we’re to infiltrate, it’s their installations—right?”
“Right, Max!”
“Got it!” Max said. “Let’s go, 99!” Again, he charged from the room and dashed down the corridor.
The Chief covered his eyes with a hand and leaned his elbow on his desk.
99 made soft humming sounds.
Together they waited.
A few minutes later, Max returned. He entered the office, looking slightly crestfallen, and sat down again in the chair beside the Chief’s desk.
“I hate to be picky, Chief,” Max said, “but you forgot to tell us where the KAOS installations are located.”
“I’m glad you thought of that, Max,” the Chief said.
“I’m nothing if not thorough,” Max replied.
The Chief picked up a black satchel that was beside his chair and put it on the desk. “All the information you’ll need is in here,” he said. “I’ve had a ‘fact sheet’ prepared on each of the KAOS installations. It gives the location and a little background on the KAOS man in charge. I think you’ll find the information interesting, and I hope that, as well, you’ll find it helpful.” He opened the black satchel and got out a small plastic bag. It appeared to contain peas. “These pellets are the explosives,” he said. “Your task will be to plant one pellet at each installation.”
“There are a lot of peas there, Chief,” Max said. “Are there that many KAOS installations?”
The Chief shook his head. “No, Max. But I thought you’d better have an extra-large supply. I know how you misplace things.”
“Chief, that’s unfair. What did I ever lose?”
“Remember? On your last case? When the Navy loaned you the aircraft carrier ‘Lexington’?”
“Chief, the ‘Lexington’ is not lost. I still say it will turn up somewhere.”
“Until it does, Max, I think we’d better play it safe. Take all of these pellets with you.”
“What are those other things in the satchel, Chief?” 99 asked, peering over the Chief’s shoulder.
“Oh . . . these. These are some gadgets cooked up by Research & Development,” the Chief replied. “I’m not sure what they are, but the instructions are printed on the labels. They might come in handy.” He closed the satchel and handed it to Max. “Here you are. Guard this with your life.”
“Won’t I be taking a chance, carrying this little black bag?” Max said, accepting the satchel. “Someone is liable to mistake me for a doctor.”
“What harm would that do?”
“Suppose this someone asked me to take out an appendix?”
“Just explain that you don’t have time.”
“Chief! I couldn’t do that. When I received my medical degree, I swore an oath. Through rain, through snow, through dark of night, I swore to heal the sick and deliver the mail.”
“Max, number one, you have your oaths confused. And, number two, carrying a little black bag does not make you a doctor.”
“Sorry, Chief. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“And that’s what you’re going to get again,” the Chief said. “Right now, standing by at the airport, there is a helicopter waiting to carry you away. The helicopter will transport you to each of the KAOS installations.”
“A helicopter, Chief?” 99 said puzzledly. “Are the KAOS installations that close together?”
“No, they’re in widely separated parts of the world,” the Chief replied.
“But . . . doesn’t a helicopter have a limited range?” 99 said.
“Yes, normally, but—”
“99, I’m surprised,” Max broke in. “Isn’t it obvious? This helicopter can be refueled in mid-air. All around the globe there are refueling planes waiting to gas us up when we start running low. It’s exactly the way I would have planned it if I’d been planning it.”
“That isn’t exactly it, Max,” the Chief said. “You see—”
“Of course I see, Chief,” Max interrupted. “This is an electric helicopter, right? It doesn’t need fuel.”
“Max—an electric helicopter?” 99 said. “But how would—”
“Simple,” Max replied, anticipating the question. “A very, very, very, very, very long cord.”
“No, Max,” the Chief said, shaking his head. “You’re still not right. This is an atom-powered helicopter. It doesn’t use conventional fuel. It can stay aloft almost forever, barring any mechanical malfunctions, of course.”
Max smiled. “That’s a little difficult to believe, Chief.”
“Well, you’ll find out when you get to the airport.”
Max looked hurt. “Chief, I said, ‘That’s a little difficult to believe, Chief.’ ”
“Oh, all right, Max. Then, would you believe that it’s steam-powered and the pilot carries an extra tea kettle?”
“I don’t think so,” Max replied dubiously.
“Then would you believe that it’s water-powered and operates only over waterfalls?”
“That’s a lit-tle closer to it,” Max replied. “But, if you don’t mind, Chief, I’ll wait ’til I get to the airport and get a closer look at it before I decide whether or not you’re telling the truth. You won’t be offended, will you?”
“Not unless I’m subjected to more of this idiotic conversation,” the Chief replied. “Max, will you get going! The fate of Control is hanging in the balance!”
“Chief, I’m on my way,” Max said. “With Max Smart on the job, Control has nothing to fear.”
Max charged across the room, out the doorway, and down the corridor.
The Chief slumped into his chair.
99 inspected her fingernails.
A moment later, Max reappeared.
“Forget something, Max?” the Chief asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact—”
“Here,” the Chief said, rising and handing him the black satchel.
“Oh, yes, I guess I forgot about that, too,” Max said accepting the bag.
“Was there something—or someone—else, Max?” 99 smiled, joining him.
“Come to think of it, I did forget you, didn’t I?” Max said.
“You mean there’s still something else you forgot?” the Chief asked.
“Yes. That’s why I came back,” Max replied. “I wanted to remind you, Chief. You better do something about that echo in here. Some day, at some crucial moment, it’s liable to cause some confusion.”
“I’ll take care of it, Max,” the Chief sighed, slumping back into his chair.
2.
MAX AND 99 hurried from Control headquarters, then, in Max’s car, raced to the airport. Reaching there, they drove to Control’s private hangar, where, on the apron, the atom-powered helicopter was warming up. The noise of the engine and rotors was deafening.
“Here we are!” Max yelled to 99 over the roar.
“Why would I want a cigar?” 99 hollered back puzzledly.
“You’re right, it wasn’t very far,” Max replied, getting out of the car.
They hurried across the apron to the helicopter. The
pilot was in the cockpit, leaning out the window.
“We’re from Control!” Max bellowed up to him.
“Who’s standing in a hole?” the pilot yelled.
Max turned to 99. “He says to get aboard and bring the pole!” he hollered.
99 cupped a hand to her ear. “Stroll where?”
Max shook his head, indicating that he could not hear. Then he and 99 got aboard the helicopter and made their way to the cockpit.
The pilot was a handsome, blond, granite-jawed, steely-eyed young man. He nodded to them perfunctorily.
“We’re all set!” Max shouted.
The pilot shook his head. “I don’t bet!” he yelled back.
Max reached forward and closed the cockpit window, shutting out most of the engine racket. “Now then,” he said, “what pole was it that you wanted us to bring aboard?”
“Pole?” the pilot replied. “I thought you said hole.”
“I thought he said cigar,” 99 put in.
“Maybe we’d better start all over,” Max suggested. He extended a hand. “I’m Max Smart, Agent 86,” he said. “And this,” he added, nodding toward 99, “is 99, Agent 99.”
The pilot took the hand. “Lance Chalfont, silent birdman, here,” he said. “I don’t talk much about myself—that’s why they call me a silent birdman. The way I figure it, if a man is courageous, compassionate and conscientious, he doesn’t have to talk about it—folks’ll notice it. You’ll see. As the hours pass, and you get to admire me more and more, you’ll see that it won’t be because of anything I say, it’ll be because of what I do. Actions speak louder than words. You’ll wonder to yourself, you’ll wonder, ‘I wonder if Lance’d tell me about some of his hair-raisin’ adventures?’ But you won’t get a word out of me. Like that time I saved them pygmies from themselves. Want to hear that?”
Max shook his head. “No, I think we’d better get going.”
“Good thing you don’t want to hear about it,” Lance Chalfont said. “ ’Cause you’d never get a thing out of me. The way it happened was, you see, I’d crash landed in this jungle. Well, no sooner’d I crawled out of the wreckage than here comes these pygmies. ‘My Heaven! school must be out!’ I said to myself. A bunch of itty-bitty fellas, they was. No taller’n a second-grader that’d been brought up standin’ under a porch! And, the next thing I knowed, they started throwin’ spears at me. Didn’t hit me, of course. A man like me, courageous, compassionate and conscientious, can’t be hit. ‘Here, now!’ I said to them pygmies. ‘Is that any way to behave?’ Well, that caught ’em like a whack across the backside with a canoe paddle. They come in closer and started lookin’ me over. So I addressed them. ‘Boys,’ I said, ‘just look at yourselves! Runnin’ around the jungle like that! Throwin’ spears! You oughta be ashamed of yourselves.’ Then, lookin’ down on ’em from my towerin’ height, I said, ‘Boys! Grow up!’ ”
“Yes, well that’s very interesting,” Max said. “But now, could we—”
“Did ’em a world of good,” Lance Chalfont continued. “It was just what they needed—a good talkin’ to. And—you know?—today, them pygmies is six feet tall.”
“That is interesting,” Max said. “However—”
“You won’t get any stories like that out of me, though,” Lance Chalfont said. “The one thing a silent birdman won’t do, he won’t boast. Though, shucks knows, this one here’s certainly got reason to. You’ll look a fur distance before you find anybody as courageous, compassionate and conscientious as Lance Chalfont. Not that I’d say that myself. I’m just quotin’ what everybody else that knows me says.”
“Could we leave now?” Max said wearily.
“You wanta go? Shoulda said something. In this world, son, you gotta blow your own horn. If you don’t, nobody’ll blow it for you.” He smiled sweetly. “Where we goin’?”
“Oh, yes, that—” Max said. He opened the black satchel and got out a sheaf of official orders. “Ah . . . let’s see . . . Our first destination is KAOS’s Science Laboratory, and it’s located in . . . the Sahara Desert?”
“Know the place well,” Lance Chalfont said, revving up the engine. “I got a story about the Sahara Desert I could tell if I wasn’t a silent birdman. The way it goes is . . .”
The engine roared, drowning out Lance Chalfont’s words, and the helicopter rose from the ground and then, high aloft, swung east. Soon they were winging swiftly across the ocean.
“Hadn’t we better look at the fact sheet on the installation, Max?” 99 said. “We’ll want to know all we can about it before we try to infiltrate.”
“Excellent idea,” Max said, getting a second sheaf of papers from the black satchel. He studied the first page. “That’s odd,” he said. “This fact sheet says the installation is six fathoms below sea level. In the Sahara Desert? I didn’t think the KAOS people were that clever.”
“Max,” 99 said, looking over his shoulder, “you have the wrong fact sheet. That’s the fact sheet for KAOS’s weapons arsenal under the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Oh . . . yes.” Max got out another fact sheet. “Here it is,” he said. He shook the sheaf of papers. “Little sand in it,” he explained. “According to this,” he continued, reading, “the KAOS science lab is commanded by the infamous Dr. Yeh! Oh-oh!”
“What is it, Max?”
“Well, apparently the infamous Dr. Yeh! has been stationed in the desert too long. He thinks he’s a sheik. And he runs the KAOS science lab like a sheikdom.”
“Sahara Desert below!” Lance Chalfont called out.
Max and 99 looked out the window.
“But that’s water down there,” Max said.
Lance Chalfont frowned. “Accordin’ to my calculating that’s the Sahara Desert,” he insisted.
“Look for yourself,” Max challenged.
Lance Chalfont peered out his window. “That sure is wet sand, ain’t it!” he said. “A fella’d have trouble, all right, keepin’ it inside a sandbox.”
“Let’s keep going for a while,” Max suggested. “When you see some dry sand, sing out again.” He turned back to 99. “We better think up a story,” he said. “Something logical. If we show up in the middle of the Sahara Desert claiming that we took a wrong turn in Altoona, Pennsylvania, the KAOS people are liable to be a little suspicious. Now, think, 99, what can we use for an excuse?”
“Tell ’em you’re a couple secret agents,” Lance Chalfont said. “In the long run, honesty’s the best policy. When you lie, boy, speak right out, tell the truth. People’ll respect you for it.”
Max ignored him. “We could claim to be camel-herders,” he said to 99. “We could say that we’ve lost our herd.”
“Very good, Max,” 99 said. “It’s logical, at least.”
“Then that’s it,” Max said. “We’ll—’”
“Thar she blows!” Lance Chalfont bellowed.
“What blows?” Max asked.
“The sand! See it down there? Blowin’ all over the place!”
Max and 99 looked out again. “Yes, that’s it, all right,” Max said. He reached into the black satchel, got out a map, and handed it to Lance Chalfont. “This will give you the exact latitude and longitude of the KAOS science lab,” he said.
Lance Chalfont tossed the map back to him. “Can’t read them things,” he said. “They got lines drawed all over ’em. Every time I look for a place I want to go, it’s got a line drawed through it.”
“Then how do you find your way?” Max asked him acidly.
“Usually, I just stop at a fillin’ station and ask,” Lance Chalfont replied. He pointed. “There’s a fillin’ station up ahead. We’ll stop there.”
Max raised up and looked out the front window. “That’s an oasis,” he corrected.
“Call it anything you want,” Lance Chalfont replied. “To me, it’s a foreign fillin’ station.”
Lance Chalfont landed the helicopter near the oasis, then got out and walked to the well, where an Arab was watering his camel. He spoke
with the Arab, then returned to the helicopter.
“What did he say?” Max asked, as the helicopter rose into the air.
“It’s just over that next hill,” Lance Chalfont replied.
“Dune,” Max said.
“I’m doin’ the best I can. Don’t rattle me with all that yammerin’. Know why I’m called a silent birdman? ’Cause when I’m zeroin’ in on my destination, I want a lot of silence from you birds!”
“Yes. Well, we’ll—”
“There she is!” Lance Chalfont pointed.
Max and 99 looked out the front window. They saw an enclave of cement buildings surrounded by a high cement wall.
“Land behind one of those dunes—uh, hills—and we’ll approach the installation on foot,” Max said. “A couple camel-herders flying around in an atom-powered helicopter might be just a wee bit much. Undoubtedly, it would cast some doubt on our story.”
“Max, you think of everything,” 99 smiled.
“It’s the little things that count,” Max said.
Lance Chalfont landed the helicopter behind a dune, and Max and 99 got out. “Wait here,” Max commanded.
“Better shake a leg,” Lance Chalfont said. “I’m gonna keep the meter runnin’.” He grinned. “That’s a silent birdman joke, boy.”
Max nodded. “Very funny.” Then he and 99 set out across the sand.
When they reached the top of the dune, they halted. “I wish we had a pair of binoculars,” Max said. “I’d like to get a look at that installation before we approach it.”
“Try the black bag, Max,” 99 suggested.
Max raised the black bag to his eyes. “Nope. Can’t see a thing.”
“I mean look inside the black bag. Maybe R & D sent some binoculars.”
“Oh . . . yes.” Max opened the satchel. “Ah, here we are—a pair of binoculars. Good old R & D!” He put the binoculars to his eyes. “That’s odd,” he said, “I can’t see a thing.” He lowered the binoculars.
“Max,” 99 said, “you have two black, sooty rings around your eyes.”
He dropped the binoculars back into the satchel. “R & D is having its little joke again,” he said disgustedly. “If there’s anything more useless than an R & D department with a sense of humor, I don’t know what it is!” He bent down to the satchel again. “Wait a minute—what’s this?” When he straightened, he was holding a foot-long aluminum rod. “Collapsible pole for vaulting over high walls,” he said, reading the label on the rod. “Good old R & D!”
Get Smart 4 - Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets Page 2