Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again! (7 page)

“Would you believe six members of the Seaford, Long Island, Lions Club, all carrying firecrackers?”

“Hardly.”

“Then would you believe—”

“I wouldn’t even believe a toy fox terrier with a lit match in its teeth.”

“Then there’s no point in my mentioning it,” Max said. “However, we are thousands of feet in the air, so I see no way for you to escape with the Plan.”

“Look out the window,” Noman commanded.

Max looked. “That airport is much nearer than it was the last time I looked,” he said.

“Before I left the cockpit I put the plane in a crash dive and locked the controls,” Noman said. “Within minutes it will hit the ground and explode.”

Max shook his head derisively. “That’s no way to run an airline,” he said.

“You, Max Smart, and your lady cryptographer, will be destroyed.”

“And you?”

“You’ll notice that I’m wearing a parachute.”

“Oh. Is that a parachute? I thought you were putting on a little weight in the rear.”

“Now,” Noman said, “I’m going to the door and jump.” He headed down the aisle toward the rear of the plane.

Max followed him. “I know you have your orders, Noman,” he said. “But, secret agent to secret agent, couldn’t we talk this over?”

“I’d like to,” Noman said. “But there isn’t time. The plane is going to crash very soon.”

“Oh . . . well, I understand, then.”

Noman opened the door. “Happy landing!”

“The same to you.”

“Sorry about this,” Noman said.

“You’d better go—time is running out.”

“Yes . . . well . . .”

Noman dived out the doorway. But, just as he did, Max reached out and snatched the Dooms Day Plan from his grasp.

Noman’s cry of protest floated back. “That’s dirty pooooooo . . .”

P
EACHES RUSHED
to Max’s side. They stood together in the doorway of the plane, watching Noman float safely to earth.

“History repeats itself,” Max said. “Once more, the bad guy bites the dust.”

“But, Max—he’s safe, and we’re hurtling to our doom.”

“True,” Max replied. “But you forget one little element
—we
have the Plan.”

“Hooray for us,” Peaches said sourly.

“You have to look at it in the broad perspective,” Max said. “It’s true, as you say, that you and I are doomed. But, on the other hand, the you-know-what of the you-know-what is you-know-whated. That’s worth
something,
you know.”

“How much in actual cash?”

Max thought for a second. “You have a point there. It might not be unpatriotic for us to try to get ourselves out of this scrape. Let’s trot up to the cockpit and see what we can do about changing the course of the plane.”

Reaching the cockpit, they slipped into the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seats. Max grasped the wheel and pulled back on it.

“Locked! Just as Noman said. Well, it’s comforting to know, anyway, that he’s no liar.”

“Max! Do something!”

“I’ll call the tower,” Max said. “They might have a suggestion. I suppose this is old hat to them.” He picked up the pilot’s microphone, punched the button, and spoke.

Max:
Crashing airplane calling tower. Crashing airplane calling tower. Come in, please. Over.

Tower:
Identify yourself, crashing airplane. Over.

Max:
Well, let’s see . . . what can I say? We’re the plane with the sun shining brightly on our fuselage. Our nose is down and our tail is up. And we’re about to make violent contact with the earth and explode in a shower of multicolored flames. Over.

Tower:
Yes, I see you now. What seems to be the trouble? Over.

Max:
Think back on that description I just gave you and I think you’ll be able to figure it out. Over.

Tower:
Oh, yes . . . Well, I wish there were something I could do to help. But I just don’t have time right now. I’m going off duty. Could you call back tomorrow? About eight hours earlier? Over.

Max:
May I make a countersuggestion? Over.

Tower:
It’s your nickel. Over.

Max:
Perhaps I could talk to your relief. He might have something to offer. Over.

Tower:
Oh, I’m
sure
he would. Old Big Mouth. You name it and he’s got the answer. But I’m afraid that would involve us all in a nasty jurisdictional dispute. You see, you’re crashing in my time period. So you’re my responsibility. If I turn you over to Big Mouth, he’d get to share in all the glory. Over.

Max:
Glory? Over.

Tower:
Whenever there’s a crash, the tower operator on duty is always interviewed on TV. Over.

Max:
I can understand that. But I’m a little vague on the jurisdictional aspect. Could you fill me in? Over.

Tower:
My wife has jurisdiction over my TV appearances, and Big Mouth’s wife has jurisdiction of his TV appearances. My wife would have a tantrum. She’s grooming me to be the new Arthur Godfrey. Over.

Max:
My best wishes. Over.

Tower:
Care to hear a ukulele solo? Over.

Max:
I thought you were going off duty. Over.

Tower:
We could consider it an encore. I don’t mind cheating a bit if it will help my career. Over.

Max:
All right. May I make a request? Over.

Tower:
Anything you want to hear. Over.

Max:
Give me one chorus of ‘How to Land an Airplane that is Headed Straight for the Ground with the Controls Locked’. Over.

Tower:
In what key? Over.

Max:
At this point, I don’t think it matters very much. Looking out the window, I see that we’re only about ten feet from the ground. Over.

Tower:
I think you better make that ‘Over and Out’. Over and out.

Max put aside the microphone. He turned to Peaches. “It might be a good idea to close your eyes,” he suggested. “I suspect the next few minutes are going to be rather messy.”

“Max! No! Look! The plane is leveling off!”

Max stared out the window. “Fantastic! We’re coming in for a perfect three-point landing!”

“What happened?” Peaches said, baffled.

“Apparently I’m a better pilot than I thought,” Max replied. “Which is pretty amazing, since I’ve never had a lesson in my life.”

“Max, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then who, what—” Max suddenly brightened. “Of course!”

“What is it?”

“Follow me,” Max said.

He got out of the pilot’s seat, left the cockpit, and made his way down the aisle toward the rear of the plane. Peaches tagged after him, perplexed. Max entered the rear section of the plane, then opened the door to the compartment that housed the control wires. The emotionless face of Agent 44 appeared in the opening.

“You did it!” Max said.

“I’m sorry, Max,” 44 replied sheepishly. “I was just fooling around. I got lonesome back here. Did I break anything?”

“Only our fall,” Max replied. “We were crashing, 44, and you brought us in for a perfect landing!”

“Imagine that! And I’ve never had a lesson in my life.”

“You have a natural talent, obviously,” Max said. “Don’t spoil it, 44, by taking lessons.”

“I won’t.”

“So long, 44,” Max said. “And thanks again.”

“My pleasure. See you around, Max.”

Max closed the door, then led the way out of the plane.

As they crossed the runway toward the terminal, Peaches said, “Max, I’m not interested in doing any more flying today.”

“Relax,” Max replied. “Since I. M. Noman probably waited around to see the crash, and then saw us land, he’s undoubtedly still here at the airport. I imagine he’s just itching for us to get aboard another plane—so he can plan another of his devilish tricks. But, we’re going to out-fox him. We’re going to drive to New York!”

“Is your car here, Max?”

“My car is parked in front of Control headquarters,” Max replied. “We couldn’t use it, anyway. It has a bug in it. Every time I slam the door the cannon goes off.”

“I won’t ask you to explain that. But, tell me, if you don’t have your car here, how are we going to drive to New York?”

“Simple. We’ll rent a car.”

“That
is
simple!” Peaches said, surprised. “How did
you
think of it?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Max replied.

They entered the terminal, then went to the rent-a-car desk.

“We’d like to rent a car,” Max said to the girl behind the counter.

“Fancy that!” she replied. “Most of our customers ask for elephants.”

“That’s very funny,” Max said sourly. “But, do you mind? We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“Where are you taking this car?” the girl said.

“I’m sorry. That’s classified information.”

“Well . . . when will you bring it back?”

“Sorry. Top secret.”

“Why don’t you take a bus?” the girl suggested. “There’s always a bus leaving every-hour-on-the-hour—more or less—and you can leave the driving to the bus driver.”

“Madam, we want to rent a car.”

“All right. Tell me where you’re taking it.”

Max sighed. “New York, then possibly Moscow, then possibly Peking.”

“Moscow and Peking are across a couple of oceans, aren’t they?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Max replied. “I intended to stop at a filling station on the way and ask.”

“Will you promise not to get water in our ash trays?”

“The minute we reach the ocean,” Max replied, “I’ll wrap your ash trays in waterproof bags.”

“Fine. We’re very careful about our ash trays. Do what you want with the rest of the car, but please take care of the ash trays.” She made an unpleasant face. “Some of our customers put ashes in them.”

“May we have the car now?”

The girl handed him a card. “This is your authorization. Just go up to the roof. A car will be along in a minute.”

Max peered at her. “The roof?”

“That’s the only way you can get a car from us. We drive it by and you jump into it from the roof. That’s how we put you in the driver’s seat.”

Max turned and looked around the terminal. “Does the second largest rent-a-car outfit have an office here?” he said.

“Oh, all right. If you’re chicken, you can get into the driver’s seat any way you want to. But don’t expect to see yourself on TV.”

Max and Peaches left the desk and went outside. Soon, a car pulled up—driverless—and they got into it and drove off.

“Do you know the way to New York?” Peaches asked.

“Of course. I have a map of every country and state in the world etched in my mind.”

“Then how do you get to New York?”

“Simple. You head straight toward the top of the page. You drive through the yellow state and the green state, and when you get to the pink state, you’re in New York.”

“I’m relieved,” Peaches said. “For a second, I didn’t think you really knew.” She leaned back in her seat. “Now, may I have the Plan? While we’re driving, I’ll try to decipher it.”

Max handed her the Dooms Day Plan. “I don’t actually need it any more,” he said. “The words are etched in my mind.”

“I think I’ll try transposing the letters into mathematical symbols,” Peaches said. “That’s the Phorbisher system.”

“Lots of luck,” Max said. “I’ll stick to my own system, if you don’t mind.”

Peaches pointed to the speedometer. “You’re driving too fast.”

“I can’t help it,” Max replied. “This is the way secret agents are required to drive. Scary, isn’t it?”

“But what’s the hurry?”

“There isn’t any hurry. But when a secret agent drives, he has to drive fast. Rule No. 13.”

“Isn’t 13 bad luck?”

“It is if you and another secret agent happen to meet at a cross street.”

Peaches suddenly sat up. “What’s that? That sound. It sounds like a siren!”

Max looked in the rear-view mirror. “There’s a police car following us,” he said. “Probably chasing some criminal.”

“Or a speeder?”

“Yes, that’s possible.” Max peered ahead. “But I don’t see a speeder.”

“You, you idiot!”

“Oh,” Max winced.

The police car, siren wailing, drew up alongside. The trooper at the wheel motioned for Max to pull over.

“He’s signaling!” Peaches said.

“Are you sure? Maybe he’s just waving. After all, we’re in the same trade—more or less.”

“Pull over!” Peaches insisted.

Max slowed down and eased the car off the highway, then stopped. The police car came to a halt, too, and the trooper got out and walked back to Max’s car. The trooper was plump. He looked like a typical trooper.

“Where’s the conflagration?” the trooper asked.

“Conflagration, officer?”

“That’s college talk for ‘fire’,” the trooper explained. “I’m one of the new breed of police officers—college educated.”

“Oh. Well, actually, there isn’t any fire. That is, not that I know of. Although, considering the number of little boys who play with matches, I suppose there must be a fire somewhere.”

“I’ll have to take you in,” the trooper said.

“What’s the charge, officer?”

“Speeding.”

“Well then, I’m afraid I’ll have to take you in, too, officer,” Max said. “You were driving as fast—if not faster—than I was. Faster, I believe. See? Your car is parked ahead of mine, so you must have been driving faster. I’ll have to make a citizen’s arrest.”

The trooper smiled. “That’s only fair,” he said. “Who’ll lead?”

“Lead?”

“We’ll have to drive to the courthouse in the nearest town and face the judge,” the trooper explained. “I could lead, or you could lead. As long as we both get there, the judge won’t mind.”

“I don’t believe I know the way,” Max said.

“Then I’ll lead. Follow me.”

Max started to get out of his car.

“No,” the trooper said, “I mean follow me in your car. I’ll be in
my
car.”

“Lucky you went to college,” Max said. “Otherwise, I might have had a long walk ahead of me.”

The trooper returned to his car, got in, then proceeded along the highway. Max and Peaches followed in their car.

“Wasn’t there something familiar about that trooper?” Peaches said.

“As a matter of fact, yes. He reminds me a little of Harry Hagedorn, a boy I knew in seventh grade. Except that Harry was much shorter. Of course, he was only thirteen at the time.”