“I accept that challenge,” The Professor said. “Make believe you are this Jack Sharp.”
“Max Smart. M-a-x S-m-a-r-t.”
Frank Sadwell stepped forward. “This freshman is correct, sir,” he said to The Professor. “Jack Sharp is Control’s top agent—according to the notation on the back of his ‘Wanted’ poster.”
“Max Smart,” Max said.
“Oh, you keep up on ‘Wanted’ posters, eh?” The Professor said approvingly. “Would you know this Sax Heart if you saw him?”
“Max Smart,” Max said.
“His image is etched in my brain,” Frank Sadwell replied. “I would recognize him anywhere, under any conditions.”
“Very good,” The Professor smiled. “That’s the kind of students we need at KAOS.” He turned back to Max. “All right, we shall proceed. Stand beside the machine, and pretend that you are Max Smart.”
“Jack Sharp,” Max corrected, stepping to the machine.
“Here is your question,” The Professor said. “If beetles are bugs, and the Beatles are boys, how many boy beetles does it take to bug a Beatle boy until he boils?”
Max smiled smugly. “My answer,” he replied, “is ‘yes and no.’ ”
The machine chugged, clanked, then fell silent. The rubber hose did not appear.
“Traitor!” The Professor shrieked at the machine.
“I think it lost its cool,” Max smiled.
The Professor snatched up the pistol, aimed at the machine, and fired. The boxing glove popped out of the barrel and struck the machine square between the dials. The machine chugged again. Then the rubber hose popped out and began beating Max about the head and shoulders.
Max, stunned, dropped to the floor.
“Max!” 99 cried, rushing to him.
“Can’t beat old-fashioned dependability,” The Professor cackled. To the group, he said, “Take five. Then, after recess, I’ll demonstrate the rest of these weapons. I think you’ll be particularly interested in our new white corpuscle destroying machine. It has an intriguing boxing glove attachment. Dismissed!”
The freshmen straggled out, followed by The Professor.
“Max! Wake up!” 99 pleaded, patting Max’s face.
Max stirred. “What’s the next question?” he said fuzzily.
“Are you all right, Max?”
“I don’t think I know the answer to that. Do you have an easier one?”
At that moment, Frank Sadwell returned to the room. He was carrying a pail of water. “The Professor asked me to revive him,” he explained to 99. “He wants him to be in shape for the next demonstration.”
“I’m revived,” Max said.
Frank Sadwell threw the water into his face.
“Why did you do that?” Max asked, annoyed and dripping.
“I always follow orders,” Frank Sadwell replied. “The Professor said, ‘Throw some water in his face and revive him.’ ”
“But, I told you, I was already revived.”
“That only covered the ‘revived,’ that didn’t cover the ‘water,’ ” Frank Sadwell said. “You should have said, ‘I’m already revived, and you don’t have to throw water in my face.’ How was I to know?”
“My apologies,” Max muttered.
“Outside,” Frank said to Max and 99. “The Professor wants you to get some fresh air so you’ll be in shape for the next demonstration.”
“Couldn’t we stay in here?” Max asked.
“The Professor wants—”
“I know, I know—outside.”
Max and 99 left the room, followed by Frank Sadwell. When they got outside, Frank moved on, and joined The Professor, who, a short distance away, was talking informally to a number of the freshmen.
“Max, how are we going to plant the explosive?” 99 said worriedly. “There isn’t any place out here to drop it.”
“99, I think the time has come to make a policy decision,” Max said.
“Yes, Max?”
“The question is, which is more important, planting that explosive or saving the life of Jack Sharp?”
“Who, Max?”
“Sorry. That beating mixed me up a bit. Max Smart, I meant to say.”
“I don’t think I understand, Max.”
“99, the only way we can plant that explosive is to return to the classroom. But, if we return to the classroom, The Professor will continue to use me to demonstrate the KAOS weapons. And, frankly, 99, I don’t think I’ll survive. Now, do you understand?”
“I think so, Max. But what’s the answer?”
Max threw up his arms, covering his head.
“I’m not the lie-detector, Max. I won’t hit you,” 99 said.
“Instinct,” Max explained. “From now on, whenever I hear that question, ‘What is the answer,’ I’m going to duck.”
“Then, what can we do? Is that better, Max?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t answer the question. Which is more important, 99? Planting the explosive, or my life?”
“Max, that’s easy. Your life is more important.”
“I tend to agree with you on that, 99.”
“But, on the other hand, planting the explosive is very important, too.”
“Yes, it’s a difficult decision to make.”
“It’s your life, Max.”
“That makes it easier,” Max said. “Let’s run.”
“We better not run, Max,” 99 said. “That might create suspicion. Let’s just walk.”
“99, this is my life. I say let’s run!”
“Let’s compromise, Max. Let’s trot.”
“That’s fair.”
Having reached the decision, Max and 99 trotted toward the gate.
“After we escape,” 99 said, “maybe we could drop the pellet on the school grounds from the helicopter. We might hit it, you know.”
“99, we couldn’t even hit the school grounds with two bodies,” Max said. “We tried it, remember? When we parachuted.”
“Well, we could try, Max.”
Max halted. “It’s no use,” he said. “Duty first. I can’t leave, 99, until after I’ve planted that explosive. Even if it costs me my life. We’ll have to go back.”
“Max . . . you’ll be in tremendous danger!”
“Yes,” Max replied grimly, “and hating every second of it.”
“But, if that’s what you want, Max . . .”
“Attenshun!” a voice barked.
Max and 99 found themselves facing a senior.
“Cough up,” the senior commanded.
Max turned his pockets inside-out. “You’re out of luck, fella,” he said. “Every cent I had is in the Fun already.”
“We’ll take anything of value,” the senior said. “What do you have in the black bag?”
“A change of shirts,” Max replied.
“Let’s see.”
“I don’t want to waste your time,” Max said. “If you’ve seen one change of shirts, you’ve seen them all.”
“I’ll chance it,” the senior said, taking the bag from Max and opening it. He frowned. “These aren’t shirts.”
“I must have picked up the wrong black satchel when I left home,” Max said.
The senior took out the packet of explosives. “What are these green gumdrops?” he said. “I’ve never seen green gumdrops shaped like this before. They look like peas.”
“It’s a new gimmick to keep children from eating gumdrops,” Max replied. “They think they’re peas and won’t touch them.”
“I’ll take a handful,” the senior smiled, taking a handful. “I’ll put them in the Senior Fun. With these gumdrops on hand, we won’t need money. That’s what we spend the money on, anyway, when we go into town—gumdrops.” He dropped the remaining pellets back into the bag. “I’ll stop you later and get the rest of them,” he said. “I don’t like to be greedy all at once.”
“The world could use more seniors like you,” Max said.
“Dismissed!” the senior barked
. And he strolled away.
“All right, 99,” Max said. “Back to the classroom.”
“Max! No! We don’t have to now!”
“I’m afraid we do, 99. The decision has been made.”
“But, Max,” 99 said, tugging at him. “The explosive has been planted. Our mission has been completed!”
“Pardon, 99?”
“Those pellets, Max! That senior will put them in the Senior Fun. They’re planted!”
Max frowned thoughtfully. “It seems too easy.”
“But it’s true, Max. Now we can escape. You don’t have to sacrifice your life.”
Max looked a little disappointed. “I was getting used to the idea,” he said. “I thought I might even get a medal.” He shrugged. “Ah, well, easy come, easy go. Let’s go, 99.”
Once more, Max and 99 trotted toward the gate. A few moments later, reaching it, they were stopped by the sentry.
“Identification,” he ordered.
Max and 99 produced the identification papers they had taken from the real students.
“Now there’s a coincidence for you,” the sentry said. “Macy and Gimbel. It was only about an hour ago that another pair with those names came in here. And now, here you two are, leaving. It’s a small world.”
“I’ll bet a lot of interesting things happen to you, out here on guard duty,” Max said.
“Would you believe it?” the guard replied. “Just this morning, I saw two people jump out of a helicopter.”
“That’s a lit-tle hard to believe,” Max smiled.
“Suppose I told you they were wearing parachutes?”
“A bit far-fetched,” Max replied.
“And thumbing through a sheaf of papers on the way down?”
“You’re pulling my leg,” Max said.
“You’re too sharp for me,” the sentry grinned. “But you’d be surprised at the number of people who would believe a story like that.” He saluted. “Have a fun time in town,” he said. “Don’t eat too many gumdrops.”
Max and 99 sauntered on.
When they got out of sight of the gate, they left the the road and entered the underbrush. Macy and Gimbel were still where they had left them, still bound and gagged. Max and 99 released them.
“Did we pass the initiation?” Macy grinned.
“With flying colors,” Max replied. “Now, you’re free to go on to the school and take up your studies. In fact, you’re expected in The Professor’s class. He’s conducting a lecture on modern weapons systems.”
“You better hurry,” 99 said.
Macy and Gimbel darted off through the underbrush.
“A word of advice!” Max called after them. “Don’t volunteer for anything!”
But they were out of earshot.
Max and 99 returned to the road. The helicopter was hovering overhead. Max signalled to Lance Chalfont, and the helicopter began descending.
“This is certainly going to be a banner day for that sentry,” Max smiled. “Imagine! Three sets of Macys and Gimbels in one morning!”
8.
AS SOON as Max and 99 were safely back aboard the helicopter, Max got out the fact sheet on their next destination, the KAOS Old Agents Home.
“It’s in Minnesota,” Max said to Lance Chalfont. “Can you find Minnesota?”
“Is it anywhere near Minniehaha?” he asked.
“Not far from there,” Max replied. “If you can find Minniehaha, you can find Minnesota.”
“Shouldn’t we report in to the Chief, Max?” 99 said.
“Good thinking,” Max replied, taking off his shoe and dialing.
Chief: Is that you, Max?
Max: Yes, this is me, Operator. Connect me with the Chief, please.
Chief: Max, this is me.
Max: Oh, sorry, Chief. I’m so used to dialing you and getting the Operator instead that I expect it to happen as a matter of course.
Operator: Are you saying I’m some kind of a buttinski?
Max: Not exactly, Operator. What I meant was—
Operator: Nobody can say I’m a buttinski. When did I ever butt in on anybody’s private conversation?
Max: Operator, what I said was—
Operator: You want to get me fired, don’t you? I know your kind. You intend to report me to the Supervisor. You’ll tell her I’m a buttinski. Is that your plan? Is that the reward I get for serving you faithfully for lo these many years? That’s gratitude!
Max: Operator, I have no intention—
Operator: Don’t butt in. It’s okay for you to butt in, huh? But not me. Oh no, I can’t say a word. I’m just supposed to sit here like a lump on a log and let you report me to the Supervisor for butting in and not say a word in my own defense. I guess you never heard of the Bill of Rights. Every man has the right to challenge his accuser. That goes for telephone operators, too. You think William Jennings Bryan didn’t have telephone operators in mind when he wrote the Bill of Rights?
Max: William Jennings Bryan?
Operator: Sure. It’s named after him. Bill. Bill Bryan.
Max: I apologize, Operator. I’m sorry I called you a buttinski. Now, am I forgiven? May I speak to the Chief?
Operator: I think he’s out to lunch.
Chief: I’m not out to lunch, Operator. I’m right here.
Operator: Don’t butt in.
Max: Chief, try to ignore her.
Operator: Just for that, I won’t say another word.
Max: Fine. Now, Chief—
Operator: I’m a human being, too, you know. I have feelings. What do you think I am, a recorded announcement? I have feelings just like anybody. In fact, I’m very sensitive. My psychiatrist says I’m too sensitive. “You’re too sensitive, Operator,” he keeps telling me. “You let little things bother you,” he says. “Well, you would, too,” I tell him, “if you had to put up with this one guy. He won’t take care of his shoe.” So my psychiatrist says—
Max: Operator, shut up!
Operator: That’s what my psychiatrist says. How did you know?
Max: It was a wild guess. Now, please, be quiet for a minute and let me talk to the Chief. I have an important report to make.
(Silence)
Max: Operator? Are you there? Are you going to keep quiet?
(Silence)
Max: Operator, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.
Operator: I’m not speaking to you.
Chief: Max, this is your chance. Give me your report.
Max: Chief, I can’t. Not while the Operator is pouting. I just wouldn’t feel right about it. Operator? Speak to me.
Operator: Your party does not answer, sir.
Max: Oh, all right, if you want to be that way about it. Chief? Still there?
Chief: Give me your report, Max.
Operator: Coax me, Max.
Max: Here’s the way things stand, Chief. We have successfully planted the explosive inside KAOS’s training school and we are now proceeding toward our next objective, KAOS’s Old Agents Home. Do you have any word of the opposition?
Operator: Just a word from you, Max, and all will be forgiven.
Chief: I think I have good news, Max. Your decision to skip lunch was apparently a master stroke. The KAOS agent has not yet been observed at Control’s Old Agents Home. So, evidently, the race is neck and neck again.
Operator: Chief, you talk to him. Try to get him to make up.
Max: That is good news, Chief. I have full confidence now that we will win out in this race against the forces of evil.
Operator: Max . . . I’ll do something desperate!
Chief: There’s one thing, Max . . . It’s bad news. I was saving it for last.
Operator: I’ll stub my toe, Max. And I’ll reject all medical attention. And gangrene will set in.
Max: I think I can take it, Chief. What is the bad news?
Operator (frantic): Maxie, Maxie, speak to me!
Chief: We have intercepted a coded message from KAOS headquarters, Max. It seems tha
t KAOS has discovered that you are being transported on your mission by helicopter. And—
Operator: Last chance, Max! Speak to me!
Max: How did KAOS discover that fact, Chief?
Chief: KAOS decoded one of our coded messages, Max. And, the upshot is that KAOS has sent its air force to intercept you.
Operator: I’ll stick my head in a glass of water and drown myself, Max! Honest!
Max: I’m not too worried about that, Chief. After all, we have Lance Chalfont, silent birdman, piloting our plane.
Operator: Lance . . . are you there? Tell Max to speak to me! Tell him if he doesn’t, I’ll do something terrible. Tell him I’ll plug myself into the switchboard and electrocute myself!
Chief: Well, I wish I could be of help, Max. But all I can do is tell you to watch out for those KAOS interceptors.
Max: Don’t worry, Chief. I’m sure that Lance Chalfont can handle the situation. I’ll report in again when I have something to report in.
Chief: Good luck, Max.
Max: All right now, Operator. What were you saying?
Operator (indignantly): I’m not speaking to you!
(Click!)
Max hung up his shoe.
“What is it, Max?” 99 said.
“Bad, 99.”
“But what is it?”
“The Operator isn’t speaking to me any more.”
“Oh.”
“Did I hear you speak my name during that conversation?” Lance Chalfont said to Max.
“Yes, you did, Lance,” Max replied. “That’s the other bad news. The Chief advised me that KAOS has sent its air force to intercept us. But I told him that I wasn’t worried—because we have Lance Chalfont, silent birdman, as our pilot. I was sure that you would know how to handle the situation.”
“Bail out!” Lance Chalfont screamed. “Hit the silk!”
“Isn’t that a little loud for a silent birdman?” Max commented.
“I panic easy,” Lance Chalfont replied, regaining his calm. “But it don’t last. Once that first panic is passed, I get like a rock.”
“Strong and sturdy, you mean.”
“No, I mean I can’t swim. I sink like a rock. Say,” he said, “did the Chief say what them KAOS interceptors looked like?”
“No, he didn’t mention that.”
“I wonder if they look like a bunch of swoopin’ birds,” Lance Chalfont said.
Get Smart 4 - Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets Page 9