Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again! (2 page)

“Because Noman is our most dangerous adversary,” the Chief explained. “You see, some years ago, by means of plastic surgery, I. M. Noman had himself fitted out with an India rubber face. And now he can assume any identity he chooses.”

“In other words, he can make himself look like anybody he wants to,” Max said. “In fact, for all we know,
you
might be Noman.”

“I doubt that, Max,” the Chief said. “Noman can do wonders with his face, but—” He glanced toward Peaches. “—he couldn’t manage to do
that
with his body.”

“I would accept that, Chief,” Max said, “except that, for all I know, you might be Noman, covering up for Peaches, who, in fact, might be Noman, covering up for— No, come to think of it, that’s unlikely, isn’t it?”

“Unless, of course,” the Chief said,
“you
happen to be Noman, Max. If you were Noman, you might be trying to confuse us by implying that we were Noman. It would—” He shook his head. “No, for the sake of sanity, let’s assume that none of us is Noman.”

“That’s a safe assumption,” Max said. “Noman could never infiltrate Control headquarters.”

“Max, he has already done it. Three of our personnel have been liquidated. And that can mean only one thing—Noman is here!”

“Gee, that’s too bad, Chief. Who did we lose?”

“29, 34 and 48½.”

“48½, Chief?”

“You knew him as 48, Max. But he was taking his exam for promotion. And he had passed the first half of it. If all had gone well, he would have become 49.” Max shook his head sadly. “Poor 48½. Little did he know that his days were numbered.”

“If you know that Noman is here, can’t you stop him?” Peaches said. “Call all of your people together, and the odd one will be Noman.”

“No, the odd one will be 73,” Max said. “73 has two left feet.”

“You
know what I mean, don’t you?” Peaches said to the Chief.

“I know what you mean,” he replied. “But it wouldn’t work. Noman would simply assume the identity of one of our regular people. He could be anybody.”

“With the exception of 73,” Max pointed out. “It takes more than a putty face to feign two left feet.”

“No, our only chance is to remove the Dooms Day Plan from the premises,” the Chief said. “As long as the plan is at headquarters, both the plan
and
headquarters are in danger.”

“In other words,” Max said, “we have to get the plan
out
of headquarters.”

“Exactly, Max. And that’s where you come in. I want you to take the plan, Max, and run!”

Max shook his head. “That won’t work, Chief. I wouldn’t get any further than the corner. I get winded quickly.”

“No, Max. When I say ‘run,’ I don’t mean that literally. What I mean is, I want you to take the plan and leave the building and keep going. Where you go isn’t important. What is important is that you keep moving—and fast, so that Noman will have no chance of catching you.”

“I see. In other words, you want me to take the plan and
run!”

“Yes, Max, that’s what I had in mind. You will become a fugitive, chased, no doubt, by Noman.”

“Uh, Chief, will it be all right if I stop by headquarters again around Christmas time? I’d hate to miss the annual office party.”

“I hope you won’t have to be gone that long, Max. Peaches will accompany you. And, while you’re running, Peaches will attempt to break the code. As soon as she has deciphered the words, and we know the nature of the Dooms Day Plan, then you may return.”

Max smiled, relieved. “That shouldn’t take too long,” he said. “She’ll have me to help her.” He looked at the sheet of paper. “Let’s see. Sad Al / Astor / Mays / Bronco Con / Map Change / Three Bs / Watch. Now, if we change the letters around—in the phrase ‘Sad Al,’ for instance, we have . . . hmmmm. Well, let’s try another tack. Let’s combine the two words, ‘Sad’ and ‘Al.’ Now, what do we have? Yes, I see—we have ‘Sadal.’ And what is a ‘sadal’? It’s something you put on a horse.” He raised his eyes to the Chief. “I think we’re looking for a horse or a man on horseback or a racetrack.”

“Max, saddle is spelled s-a-d-d-l-e.”

“Chief, can we be certain that the people at KAOS who make up the codes are perfect spellers?”

“Max, leave the cryptography to Peaches, will you? Stick to what you know—running.”

“Hold it, Chief,” Max said, looking at the sheet of paper again. “You’ll notice that the word ‘Bronco’ also appears in the plan. Since a bronco is a horse, that makes two horses—or, a team of horses. Now, the word ‘team’ suggests pulling together. And if we pull together all of the other words in the plan, what we have is . . . Let’s see . . . Astormaysmapchangethreebswatch. Well, what we have is a mish-mosh. Frankly, I think KAOS’s plan is to confuse us.”

“Max, please, let Peaches do the decoding.”

“Obviously, you don’t even know how to begin,” Peaches said crisply. “The first step is to transpose the letters into numbers. Then, after that, you transpose the numbers back into letters. That is, of course, if the transposition of letters and numbers is the basis for the code. If it isn’t, then you have to utilize phonetics. And, if that fails, you have to try the Palmerston Method. According to the Palmerston Method, every second letter represents a soliloquy in a Shakespeare play, and every third letter represents a paragraph in a soliloquy—unless, of course, the first letter is a vowel, in which case the second and third letter represent, combined, certain passages from Plato’s Dialogues. The Palmerston Method is rarely used any more, however. More common is the system that utilizes the letters as symbols. An ‘A,’ for instance, might represent an Indian teepee. And a ‘B’ might represent a ship’s mast and two round sails. That is, assuming that the letters are written in upper case. If they are in lower case, that means that the real message is written in invisible ink between the lines of the fake message. Since our plan, however, is written in both upper and lower case, we can assume—although not without taking a chance on being in error—that none of the methods or systems that I have mentioned have been used. That, of course, puts us right back where we started.”

Max turned to the Chief. “Why don’t we just hold it up to a mirror? Maybe it’s written backwards. That happened once in Dick Tracy.”

“Max, all I’m interested in doing right now is getting you and Peaches out of here,” the Chief said. “With I. M. Noman on the premises, every minute counts.”

“All right, Chief,” Max said, folding the piece of paper and tucking it into a pocket, “we’ll be on our way. Who will be assisting me on this case? 99 isn’t available, I know. Will it be Fang and me against KAOS again?”

“Sorry, Max. Fang isn’t available either. Fang is on special assignment.”

“Who is Fang?” Peaches asked.

“A dog,” the Chief replied.

She looked at Max. “I thought I had the dog,” she said.

Max ignored the remark. “What special assignment, Chief?”

“Well, this is the week of the kennel show, you know. And we got a report that a certain government is sending a Pekingese to stir up trouble. So we assigned Fang to investigate.”

“Very clever. Sending a plainclothesman, eh?”

“Yes, that was the idea. Now, Max, will you get going?”

Max hesitated. “Chief, you mean I won’t have
any
assistance on this case?”

“I just can’t spare anyone, Max.”

“But, Chief,” Max protested, “the fate of the entire you-know-what hangs in the you-know-what.”

“I realize that, Max. But I can’t disrupt the routine. If I did that, everytime the you-know-what was hanging in the you-know-what, we’d soon have chaos around here.”

“KAOS, you mean.”

“No, I mean we’d lose control.”

“You mean if KAOS were here, we’d lose Control.”

“Max, I don’t know what I mean any more.”

“You better try to get control of yourself, Chief. If
you
don’t know what you mean any more, the whole organization could end up in chaos.”

“Go, Max!”

“Chief, can’t you spare even one little itsy-bitsy agent? Just suppose—I realize that it’s pretty unlikely—but just suppose that, by some chance, I should make a mistake on this case? Wouldn’t it be prudent to have someone around to pick up the ball? What with the you-know-what hanging in the you-know-what.”

“Well . . . maybe you’re right, Max. I suppose I could spare Agent 44.”

“44 would be fine, Chief.”

“Who is 44?” Peaches asked.

“Rather than telling you, I’ll show you,” Max said. “Agent 44 is always around somewhere.”

“You might try my safe, Max,” the Chief said.

“Yes.”

Max walked to a wall, and removed a picture that concealed a safe. He dialed the combination, then opened the door of the safe, then stepped back.

A face appeared in the opening. It was a rather sad face.

“Peaches . . . this is Agent 44,” Max said. He turned to the face in the safe. “And, 44, this is Peaches Twelvetrees. Peaches will be accompanying me.”

44 nodded. “Howdy.”

Peaches groaned.

“See you later, 44,” Max said.

“I’ll be around,” 44 replied.

Max closed the safe, spun the dial, then rehung the picture.

“I always feel safe with 44 around,” Max smiled.

“All right, Max, now will you get going?”

“Didn’t you get that, Chief? That was a pun. You see, 44 was behind the safe, and I said, ‘I always feel
safe
with 44 around.’ ”

“Max, Noman might be closing in on this office right now.”

“I know, Chief. But did you get my pun? It was a play on the word ‘safe,’ you see. I said—”

“Max, are you sure that was 44 behind that safe?”

“Of course. I’d know 44 anywhere.”

“Are you sure, Max, that it wasn’t Noman pretending to be Agent 44?”

Max glanced nervously at the picture that concealed the wall safe. “I think we’d better get out of here,” he said to Peaches, taking her arm and steering her toward the door. “I don’t feel safe here any more.”

“Good running, Max,” the Chief said.

“Thank you, Chief,” Max replied, opening the door.

“And don’t talk to strangers!”

“Chief—don’t treat me like a child.”

“What I mean is, any stranger might be Noman.”

“I’ll remember that, Chief. And I’ll be reporting in—every hour on the hour, more or less.”

Max closed the door, and he and Peaches headed down the corridor.

“How do you know you’ll be able to report in every hour on the hour?” Peaches said. “Suppose you’re not near a phone?”

“I’ll call him on my shoe,” Max explained.

Peaches sagged a little. “I knew this was going to be a day like this,” she said woefully.

“When exactly did you decide that?” Max asked.

“When I first saw
you.”

Max smiled. “That’s much better,” he said. “You know, there for a second, back in the Chief’s office, I had the impression that you didn’t care much for me. I’m glad to know that I’ve won you over.”

A
S MAX
and Peaches continued down the corridor, Max took the Plan from his pocket and began to study it. Then abruptly he said, “Oops, sorry. I’m hogging the Plan. If you’d care to look at it, too, it’s all right if you peek over my shoulder.”

“Thank you,” Peaches said coolly.

“That’s quite all right. There are some occasions—such as floods, hurricanes and when being pursued by the enemy—when etiquette can be ignored.”

“When are we going to get out of here?” Peaches said, eyeing the long length of corridor that lay before them.

“Any—” Max suddenly halted. “Wait a minute. We can’t leave by the main exit. Noman will undoubtedly be waiting for us. We’ll have to go back and leave by the secret exit.”

“Where is that?” Peaches groaned.

“Sorry. I can’t reveal that information. It’s secret.” He signalled. “Follow me.”

They turned and made their way back along the corridor to an elevator.

“What’s so secret about this?” Peaches said, as they got aboard. “It looks like an elevator. It even says ‘elevator’ on the door.”

“The secret is: the ‘up’ button doesn’t work,” Max replied as the door closed. “When you punch the ‘up’ button, all you get is a recorded announcement telling you that you’ve punched the wrong button. And, oh, yes, the whole elevator explodes.”

Max punched the ‘down’ button. And the elevator began a slow descent.

“Down?” Peaches said. “But we were in the basement when we started!”

Max nodded. “Clever, eh? Very few people would get aboard an elevator in the basement and punch the ‘down’ button. That’s why we call it our secret exit. It isn’t very often used.”

“I can imagine. Where will it take us?”

“To the sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-basement.” He looked thoughtful, counting in his mind, then said, “Add one more sub to that.”

Peaches snatched the Plan from his hand. “I’m not even going to talk to you any more,” she said disgustedly. “I’m going to work on this code.”

“Mind if
I
peek over
your
shoulder?”

“Yes. But I’m sure that won’t stop you.”

“Anyway, I’m glad to see that you’re speaking to me again,” Max said.

As they sank lower into the earth they studied the words on the sheet of paper.

“Have you noticed,” Max said, “that those first three words are all the names of men?”

“Shhhh! I’m working.”

“There’s ‘Sad Al’ That’s obviously a man named Al. And ‘Astor.’ That’s the last name of a man. John Jacob Astor. Remember him? He was in the fur trade. Which reminds me of a little joke. What kind of a garment is the same as a long walk?”

“Shhhh!”

“No, that’s not the right answer. The right answer is: a fur piece. Get it? A fur piece is a garment. And it’s also a long walk. For instance, if you were to ask a stranger how far it is from Washington, D.C., to New York City, he would reply, ‘It’s a fur piece.’ ”

“Will you
please
be quiet!”

“Sorry about that.”

Frowning, Max continued to study the words. “Mays,” he said. “That could be Willie Mays. But I’m sure he isn’t mixed up with KAOS.”

“Shhhhh.”

“Anyway, we know there are three men involved. So, what else do we have? ‘Bronco Con.’ Bronco is a horse. And ‘Con’ is short for ‘confidence game.’ In other words, a phony horse. Or, in still other words, a Trojan horse. Yes, now it’s all coming clear. What we’re looking for is three men in a Trojan horse.”