Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again! (14 page)

Chief:
Got it, Max. Hover over.

Max:
I’ll take it from there, Chief.

Chief:
I hope you know what you’re doing, Max.

Operator:
Me, too. He’s wearing our shoe.

Max:
Stay out of this, Operator.

Operator:
All right. But no more kicking in speakers with our shoe. You scuffed it.

Max:
Sorry about that.

Max put his shoe back on. “Get set,” he said to Peaches.

“Take care of your shoe,” she said.

Max stared at her. “You, too!”

“I own stock in the Telephone Company,” she explained.

Max cocked an ear. “I hear a helicopter. That was fast work.”

“Max! I’m afraid!”

“There’s no time for that,” Max said. “Now, do just exactly as I say.”

“I can’t! I’m afraid.”

“Since there’s only one ejection seat,” Max said, “I want you to come up here and sit on my lap.”

“I can’t. I’m—Oh . . . that’s different. That’s romantic.”

Peaches climbed into the front seat and settled on Max’s lap.

“Ready?” he said.

“Do we
have
to rush?” Peaches asked. “This is the first really romantic thing that’s happened to me since I became an empty-headed blonde. Why spoil it?”

Max cupped a hand around his ear. “I can’t hear you over the roar of the helicopter motor!”

“I say, ‘This is neat!’ ” Peaches screamed.

Max nodded. “Right—I’ll activate the seat!”

Max pulled the ejection lever, the roof of the cab slid back, and the seat, Max and Peaches rocketed into the air.

They shot past the helicopter.

“Higher!” Max shouted at the pilot.

The helicopter hurried after them as they zoomed higher.

“Nice view from up here,” Max said to Peaches. “Look—the people appear to be so small that they look like ants.”

Peaches looked down. “Those
are
ants, Max.”

“Oh . . . yes. The people must be the big ones, then. I thought there for a moment that we were being invaded by a race of giants.”

They reached the apex of their flight, hesitated in mid-air, then plummeted downward. A second later they passed the helicopter.

“Lower!” Max shouted at the pilot.

The helicopter hurried after them as they hurtled downward.

“Max, if we’re higher than the helicopter, how will the helicopter catch us in that net—since the net is below the helicopter?” Peaches asked.

“That
will
be a problem,” Max said. “I suspect the pilot will have to execute a deft maneuver.”

At that very moment, the pilot executed a deft maneuver, catching Max and Peaches in the net. Then, Peaches and Max climbed the rope ladder and joined the pilot in the cockpit of the plane.

“Magnificent!” Max said to the pilot.

“Thanks to you, Max,” the pilot said. “I didn’t know what to do until I heard you suggest that deft maneuver.”

“It was the only thing to do,” Max said.

“Where to now?” the pilot asked.

“To the pier,” Max replied.

“I can’t land there,” the pilot replied. “There isn’t space.”

“Then drop us at my car,” Max said. “It’s parked outside Control headquarters.”

“Right-o!”

“Drop us?” Peaches said to Max.

Max turned back to the pilot. “Scratch that,” he said. “Make it ‘land us’ at my car.”

“Right-o!”

A few minutes later, the helicopter landed in the street beside Max’s car. Max and Peaches thanked the pilot again, then got out and walked to the car.

“I thought you said your car had a bug in it,” Peaches said.

“It does. But it’s safe unless you slam the door. Just don’t slam the door.”

“I’ll try to remember that. But, you know me, I’m just an empty-headed blonde.”

Max and Peaches got into the car. But instead of starting the engine, Max took off his shoe.

“Reporting in again?” Peaches asked.

“Yes. The Chief worries when I ask him to send a helicopter to circle over a cab that’s headed straight for the Potomac and don’t tell him why.”

Max dialed.

Chief:
Max? Is that you? Are you safe?

Operator:
Never mind about him. How’s our shoe?

Max:
I am fine. Peaches is fine. And the shoe is fine.

Chief:
Max, why did you want that helicopter?

Max:
I had to activate an ejection seat, Chief, to get out of that cab. And I wanted the helicopter and the net to be there when we were shot into the air.

Operator:
Eeeeek! Our shoe! It could’ve been killed!

Max:
Operator, will you get off the line, please!

Operator:
Was it frightened, poor thing?

Max:
No, the shoe was the calmest of the three of us. Now,
please,
get off the line!

Chief:
Just ignore her, Max. Incidentally, where are you now?

Max:
Parked out in front of Control headquarters, Chief.

Chief:
Out front! Max, you left here early this morning headed for New York, Moscow and Peking, and
that’s
as far as you’ve got?

Max:
Chief, I think I detect an undercurrent of chagrin in your tone.

Chief:
I don’t know why. Frankly, Max, I’m surprised you’ve managed to get that far. I didn’t think you’d make it out the secret exit. You know how you always get lost down there.

Max:
Shall we talk about happier things, Chief?

Chief:
For instance?

Max:
Well, right now, we’re going to drive straight to the pier and board an excursion boat for New York. We might think about a bon voyage party.

Chief:
That wouldn’t be proper, Max. You’re on duty.

Max:
That’s right—it wouldn’t be proper. I forgot about Rule 707: Never mix business with pleasure.

Chief:
That’s Rule 303, Max. Rule 707 is: Never lose your parachute, or it’ll come out of your salary.

Max:
I wish you hadn’t mentioned that, Chief. It’s a painful subject.

Chief:
Keep in contact, Max. And . . . bon voyage.

Max:
Will do, Chief. And thank you.

Operator:
Bon voyage, shoe.

Max slipped his shoe back onto his foot, then started the engine of the car and turned it out into traffic.

“Can you find the pier this time?” Peaches asked.

“It’s only a few blocks from here.”

“But can you find it?”

“I can smell a pier a mile away,” Max replied.

Two hours later, after having asked directions several times, Max and Peaches arrived at the pier.

“There’s an excursion boat,” Max said, pointing to a huge boat that had a sign saying “Excursion Boat” hanging over its side.

“I hope your eyes are in better working order than your nose,” Peaches said.

They parked, then walked to the boat. Standing on deck, leaning on the rail, was a plump man in uniform who looked a lot like a typical excursion boat captain.

“Hail!” Max called to him.

The man cupped an ear. “What’s that?”

“I said, ‘Hail!’,” Max replied. “I was hailing you.”

“Oh. Hail to you, too.”

“Where are you bound?” Max called.

“Around the middle,” the man replied. “I wear a corset to keep my tummy in.”

“What I mean is, where does your boat go?”

“Same as most boats—on the water!”

“On the water to New York?” Max asked.

“New York, Moscow and Peking,” the man replied.

Max turned to Peaches. “I think this is the boat we want,” he said.

They went aboard.

“How-do-you-do,” Max said to the man. “I’m Max Smart, and this is Peaches Twelvetrees.”

“Jus’ call me Cap’n Andy,” the man beamed.

“All right, Captain. Now—”

“Cap’n,” the Cap’n corrected.

“Oh . . . yes, Cap’n. Well, Cap’n, we’re interested in getting to New York. We’ll decide about Moscow and Peking later. Can you accommodate us?”

“Do better’ll that,” the Cap’n replied. “I can take you there.”

“Fine. Now, do you have a cabin?”

“I’m the Cap’n.”

“No, cabin—c-a-b-i-n. Cabin.”

“Sure. Got a whole boatload of ’em. Matter of fact, you can have the Cap’n’s cabin.”

“The Cap’n’s cabin? Won’t you be needing that yourself?”

“I spend all my time on the bridge,” the Cap’n replied.

“I see. Steering the boat?”

“No, watchin’ the cars drive by underneath.”

“Let’s take a look at that cabin,” Max said warily.

“Right this way.”

The Cap’n led them along the deck, then stopped at a door and opened it and gestured them inside.

“Very nice,” Max said, looking around. He turned back to the Cap’n. “About how long will it take us to get to New York?” he asked.

“At the rate we’ll travel, until Dooms Day!” the Cap’n replied.

“Noman!” Peaches shrieked.

Cap’n Andy whipped out a pistol and pointed it at them. “Guess who!” he grinned evilly.

“Peaches already identified you,” Max pointed out.

“Then let’s get down to business,” Noman said. “Hand over the Plan!”

“As you should know by now, we’d rather die first,” Max replied.

“Then so be it!” Noman said. “In one hour, this boat will leave the pier. You two and me—and, oh yes, one other passenger—are the only ones on board. When the boat reaches the ocean, I’ll pull the plug in the bottom and it will sink!”

“The boat or the plug?” Max asked.

“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.”

M
AX 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.