Get Smart 1 - Get Smart! (11 page)

The woman slammed the door in his face.

“The world is full of them, boy,” Max said to Fang. “Full of them!”

Max and Fang returned to the apartment.

“I heard something,” Blossom said excitedly. “While you were gone. It came from the kitchen!”

“Well, one thing, it wasn’t Mulligan stew,” Max said. “What did it sound like?”

“A kind of rattling.”

Max turned away, lowering his eyes. “A . . . kind . . . of . . . rattling . . .”

“What do you think it could be?” Blossom said fearfully.

“I want you to brace yourself, Blossom. Think of it this way: Life is fleeting, Life is short; the important think is to be a good sport!”

“You mean—”

“After all, you and Fred had a good time together—while it lasted. And . . . you can always build yourself another robot.”

“You mean—”

“And next time you may get a little closer to creating a look-alike Rock Hudson. Practice makes perfect, they say.”

“You mean—”

“I’m just putting two and two together, that’s all. The girl called down for a wrench and a pair of pliers. And you . . . you heard a rattling sound. Sort of metal on metal, was it?”

“Not exactly.”

“Don’t try to withdraw from reality. Face up to it. That’s the only sensible way.”

“But it
didn’t
sound like metal on metal,” Blossom insisted. “It sounded more like brooms being knocked together.”

Max faced back to her. “Let me ask you this: did Fred carry a broom with him?”

“No!”

“Hmmmm . . . that throws new light on the situation.” He headed toward the rear of the apartment. “You stay here, I’ll check it out.”

“Max . . .”

He halted. “Yes . . . ?”

“If you were right the first time . . . don’t tell me.”

Max nodded, then continued. He entered the kitchen, and stopped and listened. He heard a rattling sound.

“Like brooms being knocked together,” he mused. “Let’s see now, where would I find a broom? Stove? No. Refrigerator? No. Broom closet? No. Pantry? No. Broom closet? Well, it’s worth a try.”

He went to the broom closet and opened it. There were two brooms, and, huddled between them, Boris.

“Boris! What are you doing in there?”

“I lost my tour again,” Boris said sadly.

“Poor guy. But if you’d asked me, I could have told you. A broom closet is the easiest place in the world to get separated from a tour. Come on out. Maybe we can help you.”

Boris crawled out. Max led the way back to the living room.

“Guess who I found in the broom closet?” Max said to Blossom.

She began to weep hysterically. “Oh, Fred, Fred, my poor Fred!”

“No, no—Boris,” Max said.

“I understand,” she wept. “You promised you wouldn’t tell me. I appreciate it. But I just can’t help crying—my poor Fred!”

“Listen,” Max said disgustedly, “will you cut that out! Look—here’s Boris. He was in the broom closet. Separated from his tour!”

“You don’t have to pretend any longer,” Blossom sobbed. “I understand. Poor Fred!”

“Rorff!”

Blossom looked at Fang, surprised. “Really,” she said. “I thought he was just trying to save me some grief.”

“All right,” Max said, “now that that’s settled, let’s get back to the case at hand. Boris,” he said, “how did you get here in the first place?”

“Well,” Boris said, “I was on the tour, as I explained. We had come from Chinatown, and the guide was showing us the empty apartments of New York. I lingered, and apparently the tour went on. Well, I found myself alone here in this apartment. I was beside myself, of course.”

“Of course,” Max nodded. “It gives me the chills just to hear about it.”

“Then suddenly,” Boris said, “I heard a rattling sound.”

“Like . . . uh . . . brooms being knocked together?”

“No . . . more like metal on metal,” Boris replied.

“Oh-oh!”

“My poor Fred!” Blossom moaned.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions again,” Max said. “It could have been anything—someone hiding in the pantry, for instance. Go on, Boris.”

“So I hid in the broom closet,” Boris said.

“Natural enough reaction—for a yokel from Zinzinotti,” Max said. “Do you have any idea where the rattling sound was coming from?”

Boris pointed to the door of the closet that was just inside the entrance.

“I think I better check that out,” Max said. To Blossom he said, “Maybe you better not look.”

Blossom turned away, whimpering.

Max went to the closet door and whipped it open. Huddled inside was Noel!

“Do you by any chance have a computer in there with you?” Max said.

“Non!”

Max turned back to Blossom. “It’s okay to look,” he said. “No one here but that gorgeous brunette from Paree, Illinois.” To Noel, he said, “I believe you owe us an explanation, young lady.”

“Isn’t it obvious what happened?” Noel said, stepping out.

“Well, I get the gist of it,” Max said. “But there are a few details I’d like to have filled in,” He looked at her, narrow-eyed. “For one thing—where’s Fred?”

“Ah . . . Fred . . she smiled. “Zat eez zee quay-see-own—where eez Fred?”

“None of that!” Max snapped. “Answer the question—where is Fred?”

“This Fred? He is the tall, shiny gentleman with the merry-go-round eyes?”

“That’s the fellow.”

“Well . . . zees eez zee story,” Noel said. “I am sitting in the Idyll Hour Cafe, minding my own business, and enjoying an ode titled ‘Like a spread without a breadin’—”

“I believe that’s ‘Like a bread without a spreadin,’ ” Max said.

“Oui.
I am listening to this ode, when suddenly there is a riot. I am afeared! Innocent child alone in this forest of violence! Then, just as suddenly, this tall, shiny gentleman places his back against my pistol and says, ‘May I escort you to the exit, little innocent child alone in the forest of violence?’ What can I do? I say
‘oui’ ”

“You
were
in a tight spot,” Max admitted.

“Suddenly,” Noel went on, “we are outside. This tall, shiny gentleman is racing for a taxi cab—weeth my pistol steel in heez back!”

“The cad!” Max snarled.

“That doesn’t sound like Fred,” Blossom said defensively. “He was always a perfect gentleman with me.”

Noel looked her up and down. “Perhaps he has taste,” she said.

Blossom pulled back a small fist. “I’ll slug her!”

“Take it easy, girls!” Max said. “What’re you trying to make this, a forest of violence? Miss,” he said to Noel, “get on with the story.”

“Well, to make a long tale short—”

“Rorff!”

“I’m sure nothing personal was intended, Fang,” Max said.

“To make a long story short,” Noel went on, “I suddenly find myself here in this apartment—alone with this tall, shiny gentleman with the merry-go-round eyes! But, still, I do not suspect anything. Then! Without warning! This gentleman suddenly removes his back from my pistol!”

“Typical of the type!” Max nodded.

“Well . . . what could I do? I called for a wrench and pair of pliers.”

“Quick thinking. And the only thing you could do under the circumstances.”

“It was cruel,” Noel said. “But history will absolve me.”

“Undoubtedly,” Max agreed. “Now then, I have a rather personal question—if you don’t mind.”

“Nothing could faze me now—not after that!” Noel said.

“The question is—and excuse me if it sounds familiar—where is Fred?”

“Eet eez a long story,” Noel said. “But, in a nutshell, the minute the wrench and plier arrived, this gentleman suggested to me that we step out into the corridor and talk it over. What could I do? He was, after all, irresistible—those merry-go-round eyes!
‘Oui,’
I said. He opens the door and says, ‘Ladies first.’ I step through the doorway, and treachery! I am een zee hall closet!”

Max glanced at the closet door. “Locks from the outside, eh?”

“Oui!”

Max turned to the others. “It’s my guess—this is only circumstantial, of course, but based on long experience—it’s my guess that Fred has skipped.”

“Good for Fred!” Blossom said.

“And lousy for us,” Max said. “This puts us right back where we started from.”

“I’m glad!” Blossom said. “I hope he gets away! I hope he finds a place where he can be free, free, free! Where he can live his life as he wants to!”

Max looked at Boris. Boris looked at Noel. Noel looked at Max.

Boris spoke to Blossom. “Where eez this place?” he said.

“Well . . .”

“If you know something the rest of us don’t know, tell us,” Max said.

“Well . . . he could go live on a deserted island.”

“They’re all winter resorts these days,” Max said.

“He could hide in a cave.”

“The guerrillas have taken over all the caves,” Noel said.

“Maybe he could just live in a hole in the ground!” Blossom shrilled.

“All the holes have missiles in them,” Boris said.

“Well, that seems to have taken care of that,” Max said. “Now, back to the task. Where is Fred?”

Boris backed toward the door. “I think I will join my tour,” he said.

“A-ha!” Max said. “That’s it! It’s my guess that Fred took Boris’s place on that sight-seeing tour!”

“But someone would notice him,” Blossom said.

“Hardly. There would still be the same number of people on the tour. If there were, say, twelve before, and Boris dropped out, and then Fred joined in, there would
still
be twelve. That’s the beauty of it—he could pass himself off as Boris!”

“I seenk you are right!” Boris said. “It is the only answer!”

“Let’s hit the trail!” Max said.

Boris opened the door. “Ladies, secret agents and dogs first!” he said.

Max, Blossom, Noel and Fang hurried through the doorway.

Boris closed the door behind them.

C
ROWDED INTO
the tiny space with Blossom, Noel and Fang, Max said, “Either this is an extremely short corridor or Boris made a mistake and ushered us into the hall closet!”

“Oh no! Not again!” Noel groaned. “Blankety-blank-blank!”

“We’re locked in!” Blossom reported.

“I think somebody ought to pound on the door and call for Boris,” Max said. “It’s a bit crowded in here, however, and I can’t reach the door. So consider this a request for a volunteer.”

“Rorff!”

“I appreciate the offer, boy. But padded paws are not the best instrument for pounding. I’ll keep you in mind, though. I suspect I’ll be needing a volunteer for something else later on.”

“I’ll pound,” Blossom said. “I’m backed right up against the door.”

“In that case, I suggest you kick,” Max said. “You happen to be facing me, and if you start throwing your fists around, I know exactly what’s going to happen.”

“I’ll kick,” Blossom said.

“All right. One-two-three—kick!”

Blossom kicked.

“Ouch!” Max yelled. “Backwards! You were supposed to kick backwards! In the event that you’re at all interested, you kicked me square in the shin!”

“I wanted it to be a loud kick,” Blossom said. “I had to kick forward first to get up steam.”

“Never mind,” Noel said, “I weel keek!”

“Let’s go back to pounding,” Max said.

“Oui
—I weel pound.”

She pounded frantically on the door. “Booooooooreeeez!”

Nothing.

“Try again,” Max said.

“Boooooooreeeeeez!” Noel shrieked, pounding.

“Just as I suspected,” Max said. “He was so intent on helping us find Fred that he rushed off without us. Will he be surprised when he discovers we’re not with him! I just hope he doesn’t think we’re ungrateful.”

“Well, the only thing we can do is make the best of a bad situation,” Blossom said. Addressing Noel, she said, “Will you please turn your face to a corner for a while? Max and I want to hold hands.”

“Why?” Max said.

“Well, holding hands encourages conversation. I thought there might be something you could think of to say.”

“I can’t think of a thing,” Max said.

“All right, then, no talking. Just put your arms around me and—”

“Yes, I know, and pound on the door. But I’m afraid that wouldn’t help. We’ve already tried that. Boris is gone. Now, what we have to do is figure out how to get out of here. Any suggestions?”

“Rorff!”

“Veeeery good!” Max said.

“What did he say?”

“He suggested that I call the Chief and have him send someone to unlock the door.”

“Where is this Chief?” Noel said.

“At Control. A mile or so from here.”

“He will never hear you,” Noel said. “Boris didn’t hear, and he could not have been more than a block or so away when I called.”

“I believe that Fang was suggesting that I call the Chief on my shoe.”

Noel shook her head. “Using a shoe
horn,
maybe, but not just a shoe.”

“Just watch this,” Max said, “and I think you’ll change your mind. Now, I’ll just bend down . . .”

Blossom giggled.

“Sorry,” Max said. He tried again, then straightened. “I can’t seem to bend down,” he said. “Can one of you girls reach my shoe?”

Blossom tried. But there was just no space for bending.

Next, Noel tried. She, too, failed.

“Instead of bending down to your shoe, raise your foot,” Blossom suggested.

Max tried that.

Blossom giggled again.

“Sorry.”

“Rorff!”

“Excellent idea!” Max said. “Go to it, boy!”

“What now?” Noel said.

“Fang is going to call the Chief,” Max explained.

Fang:
Rorff!

Chief:
Is that you, Max? How’s it going?

Fang:
Rorff!

Chief:
Oh . . . Fang. I thought Max had picked up a cold. What’s the trouble?

Fang:
Rorff!

Chief:
Closet? What kind of a closet?

Fang:
Rorff!

Chief:
Oh . . . hall closet. All right, what can I do to help?

Fang:
Rorff!

Chief:
Do you have the address?

Fang:
Rorff!

Chief:
All right, I’ve got that. But which apartment?

Fang:
Rorff!