“At KAOS, you get Benedict Arnold’s Birthday off,” Ways countered.
“99,” Max said, “you forgot to mention that you get Washington’s Birthday off only if it falls on the second Tuesday of the month of December. And, so far, that hasn’t happened.”
“That’s good,” Ways said to Max. “At KAOS, you only get Benedict Arnold’s Birthday off if he happens to come back to life. Off hand, I’d say your chances for getting a day of are better than ours.”
“Well, Hymie—which will it be?” 99 asked anxiously.
Hymie put his head in his hands again, concentrating. “Maybe I ought to try once more to get some sense out of that infernal computer,” he said. “I could kick her. I didn’t try that. That sometimes works.”
“Thinking like a KAOS man!” Means said proudly.
“No, Hymie!” 99 urged. “Don’t weaken. Make a decision! This may be the most important moment of your life! Which will it be? A life of crime? Or excellent prospects for a Fifty Year pin?”
“I’ll do it!” Hymie decided.
“Which?” Max asked.
“I’ll sell out to Control!”
A cheer rose from Max and 99.
“Just in case somebody asks—why did you make that particular decision?” Ways inquired.
“I don’t like your faces,” Hymie informed Ways and Means.
“Politics,” Max mused. “Hymie—sometimes you’re almost human.”
10.
HYMIE RELEASED Max and 99, then, after disarming them, Max released Ways and Means.
“Well!” he said. “The tables are turned!”
“It’s a long, long way to Tipperary,” Ways said.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning you still have to get Number One and us to Washington before any of this counts,” Ways replied. “That would be easy, of course, if you could get through to your Chief to get him to send reinforcements. But with Mom on the line, we’ll all be old and gray and Number One will be obsolete before you reach him. In the meantime, I’m sure I can think of some way to upset your apple-cart. My name isn’t Wayne Ways for nothing.”
“Max, he may be right about that,” 99 said.
“No problem, 99. Don’t forget, I’m in charge of this case now. I gave myself a battlefield promotion. And with me running things we won’t have the confusion and error we had while Hymie was at the helm.”
“Max . . . taking over . . . isn’t that mutiny?”
“Only on board ship, 99. On land, it’s horse sense. Would the Chief want an ex-KAOS agent to be in charge?”
“Well . . .”
“Of course not,” Max decided. He handed the pistol he had taken from Ways to Hymie. “Your job will be to guard the prisoners,” he informed him. “Keep an eye on them every minute. I’d do it, but I’ll be busy thinking.”
“Yes, sir!” Hymie replied, saluting.
“Max . . . I don’t understand,” 99 said. “He can’t be trusted to be in charge, but he can be trusted with our only weapon?”
“That’s politics, 99,” Max replied. “Now then, let’s evaluate our position. In the first place, we know that this place is crawling with guards, and, somehow, we’ll have to get past them. Secondly, there’s the problem of getting Number One out of this underground installation, past the pool, and back to Washington. That’s two items to take care of. Two items aren’t many. I’ve handled five and six items at a time in my day. See, 99? If you attack problems logically, you usually find that what, on the surface, appears to be difficult, is actually very simple.”
“If you say so, Max,” 99 replied. “What’s the first step?”
“I think first we better get these spiders out of our pockets,” Max replied. “One bite, and we’d never get to items one and two.”
The capsules containing the poisonous spiders were put back into the file, then Max went to the door of the execution chamber and peeked out. “No guards,” he reported.
“The guards seem to appear only when Ways or Means calls them, Max,” 99 said.
Max faced Ways and Means. “One peep out of you, and it’s curtains,” he warned.
“Guards!” Means bellowed.
“All right, smarty—that does it!” Max said. He turned to Hymie. “Get some curtains somewhere and rip them up and then bind and gag these two!” he ordered.
“I protest!” Means said. “You told us we couldn’t peep. You didn’t say anything about yelling.”
“Technically, he’s right, Max,” 99 said.
“And, another thing,” Hymie said, “there aren’t any curtains. This is an underground installation. No windows.”
“In that case—under the circumstances—”
At that instant, a dozen guards burst into the room.
“Grab’em!” Ways commanded.
The guards began moving in on Max, 99 and Hymie. But Max snatched the pistol from Hymie and pointed it at Ways’ head.
“One more step, and he gets it!” he threatened.
The guards halted.
“I’m reassessing my position,” Ways told the guards. “Take one more step, and let’s see what happens.”
The guards moved a step closer.
Max pulled back the hammer of the pistol.
“Forget the ‘grab’em,’ ” Ways ordered the guards. “Return to quarters and wait for further yells.”
Obediently, the guards departed.
Max handed the pistol back to Hymie. “I hope you remember what you just saw,” he said. “That maneuver may come in handy some day.”
“Will it be safe to leave now, Max?” 99 asked.
“Safe, yes. But not easy,” Max replied. “We have to take that refrigerator with us.”
They moved on to the laboratory. Number One was still clicking away, turning out one love poem after another.
“She’s sure hooked on some guy,” Max said. He looked around the lab. “I wonder if it’s somebody here? That’s a nice looking electric typewriter over there,” he said. “Do you suppose?”
“Too bad for her if he’s the one,” Means said. “His ‘e’ key sticks.”
“You’re right,” Max said. “It would be a tragedy. That’s the way it always starts—with an ‘e’ key. Then it’s a ‘u’ key, then a ‘b’ key, then the magic margin goes on the blink. Six months, and she’d be supporting him.” He glared at the typewriter. “He looks like the type, too,” he said.
“Max, how are we going to get her out of here?” 99 asked.
“That’s easy enough, 99. We have both the Ways and Means.”
Struggling, Ways and Means carried Number One from the laboratory, then, ducking, through the corridor. When they reached the pool, they halted.
“You got her in,” Max said, “so there should be no reason why you can’t get her out.”
“Pushing a refrigerator into a pool is one thing, but pushing a refrigerator out of a pool is something else,” Means said.
Max nodded agreement. “This requires some calculation,” he said. “We’re lucky we have a computer with us.”
Max typed out the problem on Number One’s keyboard, then waited for the solution. A second later, Number One responded with a tape.
Max read:
I’d climb the highest mountain,
I’d swim the deepest river.
I’d stack a pile of lumber, dear,
Even if, in my finger, I got a sliver.
All for you!
I’d cross the burning desert,
I’d leap the broadest gorge.
I’d hammer out a horseshoe, dear,
Even if my finger I scorched on the forge.
All for you!
“Well, there’s the answer,” Max said. “But I think it must be in code.”
“That’s only another love poem, Max,” 99 said.
“Oh. I didn’t recognize it.”
“Max, we can’t depend on Number One,” 99 said. “She’s too much in love to think. We’ll have to work this out ourse
lves.”
Max studied the situation a moment, then said, “I think I have it, 99.”
He swam out into the pool, found the cover to the drain, and removed it. The water level began descending. When all the water had drained out, a half-dozen or so guests remained in the pool, swimming on the bottom.
“Anything they do here, they enjoy it,” Ways said.
“Then they’ll be ecstatic over what I have in mind for them,” Max said.
With the aid of the guests, who formed themselves into a human freight elevator, Number One was raised out of the pool. Then the car that Max had rented was brought around and she was loaded on top.
“All right, everybody into the car,” Max said. “We’re off to Washington!”
“Max . . .”
“I know, 99—we’ll be a little crowded. But it’s only a three or four day trip. And the scenery will be nice. And we’ll be good company for each other—we have a lot in common; we’re all in the same business.”
“Max, couldn’t we call the Chief and have him send a plane for us?”
“You forget, 99—my line is busy.”
“You could use the ranch phone, Max.”
Max shook his head in disgust. “99, that’s a very good idea,” he said. “It’s just too bad that you suggested it. Thinking like that could cost you your job, you know. It’s very poor politics, 99, to have better ideas than the man in charge.”
“Sorry about that, Max,” 99 said contritely.
Max was in a cheery mood a few days later as he approached the Chief’s office. The mission had been completed successfully—Ways and Means were behind bars, Hymie was being de-brainwashed, and Number One had been rescued—and, after checking in, he intended to begin a two-week vacation, which, as he saw it, he amply deserved.
Max halted at the door and knocked.
“Give the password,” a voice replied from inside.
“It’s me, Chief,” Max said.
“Enter.”
Max opened the door and stepped into the office. 99 was there, too, seated beside the Chief’s desk.
“I’m sorry I forgot the password, Chief,” Max said.
“You didn’t, Max. That was it.”
“What was it?”
“ ‘It’s me’—that’s the password.”
“Oh. Well, then, I guess I didn’t forget it.” He nodded to 99. “Still sore?” he asked.
“Are you angry at Max, 99?” the Chief asked.
“He doesn’t mean sore that way,” 99 replied. “He means physically sore. That was a long car trip, Chief. And we were so crowded.”
“Oh . . . that,” the Chief said. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a plane available. But you probably saw a lot of nice scenery.”
“And exchanged a lot of shop talk,” Max added. “Chief, do you know that at KAOS they’re giving trading stamps? They get fifty stamps for every Control agent eliminated, and a hundred stamps for every mission completed successfully. We ought to have that here at Control. It would be a great incentive.”
“Max, the fact that you’re doing a good job, and doing it for a good cause, ought to be enough,” the Chief said.
“Of course, that helps,” Max admitted. “But, on the other hand, do you know what you can get for a hundred and fifty trading stamps? You can get a rain cover for your sandbox.”
“That’s fine, Max, but—”
“I think we’d all work a little bit harder if we knew, while we were out on a case, we weren’t getting rain in our sandboxes,” Max said.
“I know, Max, but—”
“Nobody likes to come home to soggy sand.”
“All right, Max. The next time I talk to HIM, I’ll suggest that Control start giving trading stamps.”
“Have you talked to HIM lately, Chief? Did you tell him how I stepped into the breech when Hymie was incapable of carrying on as a leader?”
“Max, that wasn’t Hymie’s fault,” 99 said. “He was brainwashed. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“I realize that, 99.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to mention it to HIM—since it wasn’t Hymie’s fault,” the Chief said.
“Fair? I’m talking about politics, Chief.”
“Even so, Max, I don’t think—”
There was a knock at the door.
“Give the password,” the Chief called out.
“It’s me, Hymie,” a voice replied.
“Enter.”
The door opened and Hymie stepped in. The evil KAOS look was gone from his expression. “Reporting for duty, Chief,” he said.
“Chief, doesn’t Hymie get a two week vacation, too?” Max asked. “I realize that his bungling nearly lost us the case, but it isn’t fair to hold that against him. He’s only a machine.”
“Max, being a machine, he doesn’t need a two week vacation,” the Chief said.
“I just needed a brainwashing, Max,” Hymie said.
Max shook his head. “No, Hymie. A brainwashing was what you had. What you needed was an unbrainwashing.”
“No, Max—Hymie is right,” the Chief said. “Unbrainwashing is very difficult. Brainwashing, on the other hand, is fairly simple. So, our scientists simply brainwashed him into thinking he was a Control agent.”
Max turned to Hymie. “Isn’t that a little confusing for you?” he asked.
“I do have a slight headache,” Hymie replied. “But I’m told it will pass.”
Max dug into his pocket. “Have an aspirin or an explosive powerful enough to blow up a body of water the size of Lake Ontario,” he said, offering a tablet to Hymie.
“Max, I—” the Chief began.
But at that moment his phone rang.
The Chief picked up the receiver and identified himself, then, covering the mouthpiece, whispered to Max, 99 and Hymie. “It’s HIM,” he said.
“Mention the trading stamps idea,” Max suggested.
HIM and the Chief had a lengthy conversation. The longer they talked, the more worried the Chief appeared to be. Finally, the talk ended. The Chief looked quite disturbed.
“Well . . . we’ve reported in,” Max said. “I suppose there’s no point to hanging around any longer. Shall we go, 99?”
“Max . . . something is bothering the Chief. Don’t you even want to know what it is?”
“99, since the Chief is not concerned about me, I see no reason why I should be concerned about him.”
“I don’t understand, Max. Why do you think the Chief isn’t concerned about you?”
“He had HIM on the phone, 99. It was the perfect opportunity. And not one word about trading stamps.”
“Max,” the Chief said, “I didn’t think it was appropriate. HIM is quite worried. We have a major crisis on our hands.”
“Naturally,” Max said glumly. “It just so happens that I have a reservation on a flight to Hawaii that leaves in one hour. In addition, I have engaged a little grass shack on the beach at Waikiki for two weeks. Considering all that, it is hardly surprising that we suddenly have a major crisis on our hands. But I am not interested in hearing about it, Chief.”
“I didn’t intend to tell you about it, Max,” the Chief said. “It’s Classified.”
“Good! I’m glad it’s Classified. I’m glad you had no intention of telling me—” Max interrupted himself, looking hurt. “Chief, I’m authorized to hear Classified secrets,” he said.
“Max, you better go. You’ll miss your flight.”
“You’ll tell Hymie the Classified secret, though, I’ll bet,” Max grumbled. “The minute I step out the door, you’ll be whispering in his ear.”
“If it’s going to upset you that much, Max, I’ll tell you what HIM told me. I just didn’t want you to go off on your vacation feeling guilty.”
“Guilty, Chief?”
“It concerns Number One, Max.”
“Why should I feel guilty about that?” Max asked, puzzled.
“Well . . . you took over the case when Hymie was brainwashed. So,
in the official record, it’s listed as your— Well, to be brutally frank, Max—it’ll be listed as your failure.”
“My failure! Chief, I brought her back!”
“Forget it, Max. Go on your vacation.”
“Hang my vacation!” Max said. He grasped the Chief by the lapels. “What is it, Chief?”
“Max, if you’ll let me go . . .”
“Tell me! Tell me!”
“Max, it isn’t your fault. It’s just that Number One is still grinding out love poetry. And, in that condition, she’s of no use to us anymore. But, don’t blame yourself.”
Max released the Chief’s lapels. “Why should I blame myself?” he asked.
“You shouldn’t.”
“Then why did you say I shouldn’t?” Max asked. “If you really thought I shouldn’t, you wouldn’t even have mentioned it.”
“All right, Max. If it’ll make you feel better, pretend I didn’t say it.”
Max thought for a moment. “It isn’t my fault,” he decided. “No matter what anybody says, it isn’t my fault. All I did was rescue her and bring her back. That was a good thing to do. It wasn’t a bad thing. So why should I feel guilty? I shouldn’t. I have no reason in this world to feel guilty.” He sighed deeply. “Tell me, Chief—how can I make it up to her?”
“Make what up to her, Max?”
“Whatever it was that I did that makes me feel so guilty.”
“Max, there isn’t anything you can do,” the Chief replied. “Apparently there’s nothing anybody can do. Our scientists have been working over her ever since you brought her back, but they haven’t accomplished a thing. She’s still as lovesick as before.”
“Can’t they kind of work around the problem, Chief?”
“Not very easily,” the Chief replied. “Just to test her, they asked her to design a new air defense system. And she advised them to ring the country with butterfly nets.”
“I don’t get the connection,” Max said.
“That’s because you’re not a female,” 99 said. “I understand it, Max. Butterflies are sort of romantic. When you were young and you went on a picnic out into the country with your best girl, didn’t you notice the butterflies?”
“I guess I did, now that you mention it,” Max replied. “Only, in those days, we called them ants.”
Get Smart 8 - Max Smart Loses Control Page 13