Get Smart 6 - And Loving It! (2 page)

“I see. So, now, Guru Optimo is in the clutches of the Bad Guys.”

“No.”

“See what happens when you make a long story short, Chief? You leave out the most important part. You forgot to tell us how we got Guru Optimo back.”

“We didn’t get him back, Max. Let me finish the story. The KAOS agent took Guru Optimo to the air terminal, where he intended to get a plane that would take them to KAOS headquarters. But he made one mistake. He let Guru Optimo out of his sight for a moment. He went to the cigar counter to get a newspaper, and when he returned he found Guru Optimo in conversation with a man who has since been identified as Lucky Bucky Buckley. Buckley is a small-time talent agent, and while the KAOS agent was gone, he talked Guru Optimo into deserting with him.”

“Chief, didn’t the KAOS agent do anything about it?” 99 said.

“He tried to. But Guru Optimo, under Lucky Bucky Buckley’s influence, hypnotized him.”

“What is he now, Chief?” Max asked.

“He’s the lions on Agent 32’s knees.”

“Chief, I have a suggestion,” Max said. “Why don’t we just let this Lucky Bucky Buckley keep Guru Optimo? He sounds dangerous to me.”

“Max! Are you mad?”

“No, Chief. Did you say something to offend me?”

“I mean, don’t you realize what could happen? Guru Optimo could hypnotize every single person in the world. Do you know what that would mean?”

“More New York Public Libraries than we could use?”

“It means, Max, that whoever controls Guru Optimo controls the fate of mankind!”

“Well . . . lucky Lucky Bucky Buckley.”

“And un-lucky us, Max. That’s why speed is so important. We have to regain control of Guru Optimo before civilization, as we know it, is totally disrupted. At this point, we’re not sure how Lucky Bucky Buckley intends to use Guru Optimo. Being a talent agent, he may only want to put him into show business. But we can’t take the chance.”

“I see. So you want 99 and me to locate Guru Optimo and lure him away from—”

“Just a minute, Max,” the Chief interrupted. “There’s something more I want to tell you. This mission is going to be a little different than any mission you’ve ever been on before. You and 99 will have an associate. You see, it’s not only Control that’s in danger this time. It’s everyone and everything—and that includes KAOS. So, for this one time—and this one time only—Control and KAOS are joining forces.”

“Chief, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were telling me that we were going to have a KAOS agent working with us.”

“That’s right, Max.”

“Chief! Control and KAOS? That’s like mixing oranges and grapefruit! Do you know what the result will be? Fruit cocktail!”

The Chief looked uncomfortable. “Max . . . just nevermind.”

“But, Chief, it’s preposterous! Put Bad Guys and Good Guys together, and do you know what you get? You get G-b-o-a-o-d-d Guys. And just try pronouncing that!”

“Max,” the Chief said grimly, “will you please not say any more about it. You’ll be sorry.”

Max shrugged. “Okay, Chief. Mine is not to wonder why, mine is but to go along with any goofy idea the brass cooks up.”

“Just remember that, Max. Now, the KAOS agent who will be working with you is V. T. Brattleboro. He—”

“How does he spell that, Chief?”

“Brattleboro?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“B-r-a-t-t-l-e-b-o-r-o.”

“A great help he’ll be,” Max said derisively. “He doesn’t even know how to spell his own name. It should be b-o-r-o-u-g-h, not b-o-r-o.”

“Maaaaaaaax!”

“All right, all right, Chief. I won’t say one more word. You know what’s best. If you think a good guy and a good girl can work together with a bad guy and get anything done, then I agree—you’re out of your mind.”

“Agree with whom?”

“With 99. She’s thinking that too.”

“Max, will you let me tell you about V. T. Brattleboro?” the Chief pleaded. “He was chosen for this assignment because, like Guru Optimo, he, too, is adept at hypnotism. They practice it a little differently, though. Guru Optimo clouds men’s minds and makes them think they’re anything he wants them to think
they
are. While Brattleboro clouds men’s minds and makes them think he is anything he wants them to think
he
is. Do you see the difference?”

“Yes and no.”

“Max, it’s one or the other, either you see or you don’t see.”

“All right, if I have to make a choice, then it’s no, I don’t understand.”

“I’ll give you an example,” the Chief said. He turned toward the painting of HIM. “Max . . . 99 . . .” he said, “I would like you to meet V. T. Brattleboro.”

The painting stepped down from the frame, extending a hand. It no longer looked like HIM. Now, it was shorter, fatter, and wore a derby hat.

Max stared, flabbergasted. Then slowly he turned to the Chief. “You mean . . . you mean that, all along, HIM has been a KAOS agent?”

“No, no, Max,” the Chief replied. “V. T. Brattleboro has simply clouded your mind, making you think that he was the painting of HIM.”

“Whew!—that’s a relief!” Max said. “Those KAOS agents are—”

“Max—watch it!” the Chief warned.

“—are probably very nice fellows, down deep,” Max said.

“I resent that,” V. T. Brattleboro responded. “If we’re going to work together, Smart, you’ll have to stop calling me names.”

“I take it back,” Max said contritely. “You’re a double-dealing dirty rat. And, what’s more, your father before you and your grandfather before him were double-dealing dirty rats too. How’s that?”

“Fine—if you’re sincere,” V. T. Brattleboro replied. “I can’t stand a guy who calls me a rat to my face and then, the minute my back’s turned, tells everybody I’m a nice chap.”

“You won’t have that trouble with me,” Max assured him.

“Gentlemen, may I continue the briefing now?” the Chief said.

“There’s more?” Max said. “Aren’t you the one who’s wasting time now, Chief? Why don’t you turn us loose and let us track that nefarious Guru Optimo and his unscrupulous master Lucky Bucky Buckley, to their lair?”

“Do you have any idea where their lair is, Max?”

“No.”

“Well, I was about to tell you where it is. Do you still think that would be a waste of time?”

“I’m not sure, Chief. What’s a lair?”

“In this case, a hiding place. Lucky Bucky Buckley has taken Guru Optimo to an island that is located a few miles off the coast of lower California. The island is approximately ninety-nine per cent jungle and one per cent medieval castle.”

“A castle, Chief?” 99 said, surprised.

“Yes. It was built by a Spanish nobleman several centuries ago. The island and the castle are still owned by the nobleman’s family. They—”

“Chief,” Max said, “did you say several centuries ago? Isn’t his family a little old by now?”

“Max, these are his descendants. As I was saying, they still own the castle and the island. It’s sort of a white elephant—they can’t find anyone to take it off their hands. So they rent it out to anyone who wants to get away from it all for awhile.”

“Well, renting a white elephant is certainly a novel way of getting away from it all,” Max said. “Frankly, if I wanted to get away from it all, I’d rent the castle instead.”

The Chief sighed. “99, will you explain it to him,” he said.

“Max, the castle and the white elephant are one and the same,” 99 said. “The castle is called a white elephant because—” She interrupted herself, looking suddenly puzzled. “Why
is
it called a white elephant?” she said to the Chief.

“I think I can answer that,” V. T. Brattleboro offered. “It’s called a white elephant because one day when it was very hot it was looking for a bucket of cold water, intending to cool itself off with it, and, inadvertently, it stuck its trunk into a bucket of white paint instead.”

“Oh . . . well, that makes sense,” Max said.

“But that isn’t right,” the Chief said to Brattleboro.

“Of course not. But it sounded like something he would believe,” Brattleboro replied, indicating Max.

The Chief put a hand to his head, groaning. “Does anybody remember what I was saying before we got sidetracked by that white elephant?”

“You were telling us that Lucky Bucky Buckley has taken Guru Optimo to the castle on the island,” 99 replied.

“Oh . . . yes. Now, we have a special plane standing by at the airport, waiting to take you to the West Coast. And we have a special helicopter standing by on the West Coast, waiting to take you to the island.” He looked at his watch. “You better get going. Are there any questions?”

Silence.

“Max, you
must
have a question,” the Chief said. “You
always
have a question.”

Max shook his head. “No questions, Chief.”

“Don’t you want to ask why the owners of the castle don’t try paint remover if they’re having trouble getting it off their hands?”

Max’s eyes opened wide. “Did they get the paint on their hands, too? I didn’t know that, Chief. Brattleboro didn’t mention it in his story.”

“Goodbye and good luck,” the Chief said.

“So long, Chief,” Max replied. “Don’t stick your trunk in any paint buckets.”

Max, 99 and Brattleboro headed for the door. But as they reached it, the Chief called, “Max . . . just a minute. I’d like to go over the details of the case with you once more, just to be sure that it’s completely clear in your mind.”

“That won’t be necessary, Chief.”

“Nevertheless, Max, I insist,” the Chief said. “99, you and Brattleboro can wait for Max outside.”

“But, Chief, that’s a waste of precious time,” Max objected. “I understood everything you said—perfectly.”

“Max!”

“Chief, have a little faith, will you?”

“Max, for—!”

“We’ll go out and hail a cab to take us to the airport, Max,” 99 said. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

99 and Brattleboro departed, closing the door after them.

“Chief, that was embarrassing,” Max said. “Do you want that KAOS agent to think that you don’t trust me?”

“Max, I wanted you to stay because I have something to say to you that I didn’t want Brattleboro to hear.”

“Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so, Chief?”

“I couldn’t. Brattleboro was— Oh, nevermind. Max, this is what I wanted to tell you. I suspect that Brattleboro has been ordered by his superiors at KAOS to double-cross you and recapture Guru Optimo for them.”

“But, Chief, we’re working together.”

“Max, do you really think we can trust those double-dealing dirty rats? They’re dedicated to evil! So, I’m giving you the same order that Brattleboro’s superiors gave him. Do you understand what you’re supposed to do?”

“The same as Brattleboro.”

“Right.”

“You want me to double-cross me and recapture Guru Optimo for KAOS.”

“No, Max.”

“Say, Chief, I have an idea. Why don’t I double-cross Brattleboro and recapture Guru Optimo for Control? After all, we had him first.”

“Great, Max. That’s even better than my idea.”

“I think so too, Chief. Frankly, turning Guru Optimo over to KAOS didn’t make a lot of sense—at least, from our point of view.”

“You’ve opened my eyes, Max.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve opened my own eyes too, Chief. I always had great respect for you and your ideas. But that suggestion you made to turn Guru Optimo over to KAOS was a real clunker. Maybe you need a rest.”

“I think I do, Max,” the Chief agreed. “That’s why I’m sending you to an island.”

“Oh. All right, Chief. Try to enjoy yourself while I’m out there on that island, not knowing from one minute to the next whether I’m going to live or die.”

“Max, there’s a lot of truth to that,” the Chief said, suddenly grim. “Not only will you have to contend with Guru Optimo and Lucky Bucky Buckley, but you’ll also have to be on guard constantly against V. T. Brattleboro. You’ll be facing a danger more threatening than you’ve ever faced before.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “And . . .”

“Yes, Max—and what?”

“. . . and loving it!” he replied.

I
T WAS
late evening when the special plane landed Max, 99 and V. T. Brattleboro on the West Coast. As the Chief had promised, a helicopter was waiting. They boarded it and it immediately took off, headed for the island.

“You’ll find some survival kits there by your seats,” the helicopter pilot told them. “The kits contain everything you’ll need to survive in the jungle—theoretically, at least. Personally, if I were going to be dropped in a jungle, I’d rather have a good fast getaway car.”

“Couldn’t you drop us somewhere near the castle?” Max suggested.

“My orders are to drop you as far away from the castle as possible,” the pilot replied. “I said to them, ‘But they’ll never survive—they’ll be eaten alive by savage jungle animals, or they’ll succumb to thirst or hunger or the unbearable heat.’ But they had an answer for that.”

“What was it?” 99 inquired.

“They said I tend to exaggerate.”

“How far is it to the island?” Max said.

“About a thousand feet—straight down,” the pilot replied. “We’re over it now.”

Max looked out the window. “I don’t see a thing.”

“It’s one of those old-fashioned unlighted jungles,” the pilot explained.

A few moments later, the helicopter settled down in a small clearing. The pilot switched off the engine, then Max, 99 and V. T. Brattleboro jumped down to the ground, carrying their survival kits.

“That’s amazing,” Max said to the pilot. “You found this tiny clearing in total darkness! How did you do it?”

“I have the eyes of a cat,” the pilot replied. “I can see for miles in absolute blackness. Once, for instance, standing in Los Angeles, in the middle of the night, I looked east and saw that the beacon on the Empire State Building in New York was out.”

“Fantastic!” Max said.

“At least, I guess it was out. I couldn’t see it, anyway.”

The pilot started the engine. “Good luck with those survival kits!” he called. “Boy, you’ll sure need it!”

The helicopter rose, then disappeared into the night.

Max looked around. “I wonder where we are on the island?” he said. He squinted. “All I can see is what looks like the shapes of a bunch of palm trees.”