Get Smart 7 - Max Smart - The Spy Who Went Out to the Cold (3 page)

Max and 99 caught up with him and halted him. “What did I say wrong?” Max asked.

“Did I hear ‘objections?’ When I hear that, I’m due in court.”

“Consider the objections overruled,” Max said. “Now, can we leave? At the rate we’re progressing, the North Pole will be melted before we get there.” He looked thoughtful for a second. “I imagine headquarters is surrounded by KAOS agents, just waiting for us to step out, so they can attempt to kidnap the Professor,” he said. “We better leave by the secret exit.”

“Max . . .” 99 said worriedly.

“I know what you’re thinking, 99,” Max said. “You think I’ll get lost again in all those secret passageways. But you’re worrying for nothing. Since the last time, I’ve been studying a map of the secret exit. And now I know it like the palm of my hand.” He led the way down the corridor. “Just trust me,” he said.

Von BOOM whispered to 99. “Can we trust him?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Max knows exactly what he’s doing.”

The Professor nodded gloomily. “So did General Custer when he set out to beat up on that handful of Indians,” he said.

They reached an elevator and got aboard. Max punched the UP button and the car descended. After a minute or so, it stopped, the door slid open, and they got out. They were in a dark anteroom that had been hollowed out of rock. The room was lighted by brightly burning torches. A number of openings led from the room into passageways.

“Let’s see . . .” Max said, looking around. He pointed. “I think we take that tunnel over there. No . . . just a second.” He looked at the palm of his hand. “I was wrong,” he decided. He pointed again, in the opposite direction. “We take that tunnel over there.”

“Are you
sure,
Max?” 99 said.

Max held out the palm of his hand. “Look for yourself.”

“I have a question,” von BOOM said. “Did you have any Custers in your family?”

“Let’s make up our minds,” Max said irritably. “Are we going to play Twenty Questions or are we going to go out there and beat up on that handful of Indians? Uh . . . scratch that. I don’t know what made me think of it. It’s something a great, great uncle of mine said a long, long time ago.” He led the way toward an opening to a tunnel. “Last one in is a KAOS agent,” he called back.

99 and von BOOM hurried after him. The passageway, too, was lighted by torches. After a few moments, they reached a fork.

“This looks familiar,” Max said. “That way is the thumb, I think, and that other way is the index finger. Or is it the other way around?” He consulted the palm of his hand again. “No, I was right the first time. Or . . . wait a second—is that the same palm? Do you remember, 99? Before, was I using the palm of my right hand or my left hand?”

“Your right hand, I believe, Max.”

“Good. We’re on the right track.” He traced a path on the palm of his right hand. “We follow this line right here,” he said. “It takes us into the thumb, and then, right here at the fingernail, we reach the exit. Let’s go.”

As they continued through the passageway, Max addressed the Professor. “Just to make sure that none of our own agents get lost in here, we have guides posted along the way,” he said. “We should be reaching the first one soon. It’s Willowby, isn’t it, 99?”

“Yes, Max.”

“His appearance may startle you a bit,” Max said, speaking to von BOOM again. “He’s been down here for as long as anyone can recall, and naturally, in this dim light, he’s become a bit bleary-eyed. Also, his beard is a little longer than the beards you usually see. For him, though, it’s an advantage. At night, he uses it as a blanket. And at meals it comes in very handy as a bib. Although, the fact that it’s white is a minor drawback. It shows the gravy stains.”

There was no response from von BOOM.

“Max!” 99 cried. “He’s gone!”

Max halted and looked back. Von BOOM was nowhere in sight. “Don’t worry, 99,” he said. “He isn’t gone, he’s only lost. He must have taken a wrong turn back at that fork. We’ll just retrace our steps, then follow the index finger, and we’re bound to find him.”

“I hope so, Max,” 99 said, uncertainty in her tone, as they made their way back through the tunnel. “But suppose you used one of the key words, and he went off somewhere else? How would we know where to look?”

“He couldn’t possibly get out of here, 99. Unless you happen to know these passageways like the palm of your hand, there’s no escape.”

They reached the fork and this time took the lefthand tunnel. A minute or so later they came upon a tall, bleary-eyed man with a long white beard. Spotting Max and 99, the man immediately snatched up the end of the beard and placed it on top of his head.

“Willowby, you know, you’re not fooling anybody,” Max said. “And, besides, it’s no disgrace at your age to be getting bald.”

“I won’t have to do this much longer,” Willowby replied. “I put in a request for a hairpiece.”

“When was that?” Max asked.

“I can’t remember the exact date. But it was around the time when Lucky Lindy was taking off for Paris. How did he make out, anyway?”

“He made it,” Max replied.

Willowby tossed his beard into the air. “Hurrah for Lucky Lindy!” he shouted exultantly.

“Willowby, I’ll tell you something about requests,” Max said. “By the time you get that hairpiece, you won’t need it. You’ll be in your second childhood, and you’ll be starting a new full head of hair of your own. But, listen, what are you doing over here in
this
passageway? You’re supposed to be in the tunnel that leads to the exit.”

Willowby looked at him sadly. “You’re lost again, Max.”

“
I’m
lost!” Max said indignantly. “
You’re
lost.”

“I’ve been in this same spot for over one-hundred-and-fifty years. The only way I could get lost would be if the tunnels moved.”

“Oh.”

“You took the thumb again,” Willowby guessed.

“All right, nevermind that,” Max said. “I have a more important problem right now. Have you seen anybody wandering around in here who looked like he needed a keeper?”

“Besides you, you mean?”

“I’m not going to dignify that question with an answer, Willowby,” Max replied. “This fellow I’m talking about is short and dumpy and—”

“—and is looking for the post office,” Willowby said. “He stopped here just a few minutes ago.”

“He was looking for the post office?” Max said, puzzled.

“You must have used a key word, Max,” 99 guessed. “I wonder what it was?”

“He probably wanted to mail a fan letter to Lucky Lindy,” Willowby said. “Ol’ Lindy is probably the toast of the town these days, eh?”

“There hasn’t been a lot of fuss made over it lately, Willowby,” Max said. “That happened over forty years ago.”

“Fame is fickle,” Willowby sighed sorrowfully. “They probably don’t remember Abe any more, either.”

“As a matter of fact, they do,” Max said. “Every year, almost the whole country celebrates his birthday. To a lot of people, he’s a great hero.”

Willowby looked surprised. “That’s more than I expected. All that for Abe Berkowitz?”

“Berkowitz?”

“He invented the buggywhip with the patented fox-skin grip.”

“I had another Abe in mind,” Max said. “This one—”

“Max,” 99 broke in. “What about Professor von BOOM?”

“99, his name isn’t Abe. It’s Wormser.”

“Max, what I mean is, shouldn’t we be looking for him?”

“Oh . . . yes.” He addressed Willowby again. “Which way did he go?”

“If you’re asking about that other dumpy little man who looked like he needed a keeper . . .” Willowby pointed straight up. “He went thataway.”

Max peered up at the ceiling of the tunnel. “I find that a little hard to believe,” he said.

“Would you believe that I directed him back to the elevator?” Willowby asked.

“That makes a little more sense,” Max replied. He signalled to 99, then headed back through the tunnel.

“If you see Lucky Lindy—” Willowby called after them “—tell him
some
of us still remember!”

Max and 99 hurried back through the passageway to the elevator. When they reached it, Max punched the UP button, then they waited for the car to descend to their level.

“I wonder if it was ‘hand?’ ” Max said, as they stood near the elevator doors.

“If what was, Max?”

“The key word.”

“I don’t understand. What’s the connection between hand and post office?”

“If you request it, 99, you can have your letters hand-stamped. That’s because sometimes when they’re machine-stamped the impression penetrates the envelope.”

“Oh, I see—and the impression is stamped on whatever’s inside the envelope.”

“Correct. For instance, if you were mailing a butterfly to someone and the envelope was machine-stamped, the butterfly might arrive with ‘Buy U.S. Savings Bonds’ stamped on its wing. That can make a butterfly look like a professional flag-waver.”

The car arrived and they got aboard and Max punched the DOWN button and the car began rising.

“Or, maybe it was ‘finger,’ ” Max mused.

“You’re missing me again, Max,” 99 said.

“After I lick a stamp, it always sticks to my finger,” he explained.

The elevator reached the main floor, and Max and 99 got out and hustled along the corridor toward the front door.

“I just hope we’re in time,” 99 fretted. “The post office is only across the street. By now, he could have mailed his letter, or whatever he had in mind, and wandered off to somewhere else.”

“Did I by any chance mention the phrase ‘Through wind and rain and dark of night?’ ” Max said, preoccupied. “As I recall, that has something to do with the post office. I think it’s the excuse they use when they don’t get the mail delivered on time.”

“Max! Look!”

They had reached the front door and 99 was pointing toward the post office across the street. Professor von BOOM had just emerged and was descending the steps.

“Just in the nick of time,” 99 said, greatly relieved. “If we’d been a minute later, Max, we might have missed him.” She started out the door.

“Hold it!” Max said, putting a hand on 99’s arm, stopping her. “See those two men a few steps behind the Professor? I think they’re tailing him.”

“But, Max, look at their uniforms—they’re letter carriers.”

“Exactly what they want us to think, 99. But notice how lively they’re stepping. Doesn’t that strike you as somewhat suspicious?”

“You’re right, Max. A real letter carrier plods, doesn’t he?”

“And for good reason,” Max agreed.

“Yes—all that walking he does, day in and day out.”

“That’s not the reason, 99. The reason is that he wants to delay all the important letters as long as he can. Haven’t you ever heard the post office slogan—The mail must go through?”

“But, Max—”

“The complete slogan is: The mail must go through a long series of intentional delays in order to make sure that important letters do not get delivered until days after they’re expected, thus driving the intended recipient out of his ever lovin’ mind and making him more appreciative of his fine postal service when the letter finally
is
delivered.”

“I can understand why they shortened it,” 99 said. “But, Max, if those men in uniform aren’t letter carriers, what are they? Do you think—”

“KAOS agents, 99. No doubt about it. As you can see, they’re rapidly closing in on Professor von BOOM. Within seconds, they will probably grab him from behind, drag him into a waiting limousine (black), and speed away with him to their hideout.”

“Max! We have to do something!”

“Do we really, 99? Frankly, that sounds pretty exciting. I’d like to see it.”

“Max, remember . . . duty!”

“Oh, yes . . . that. Duty can certainly spoil some fun times, can’t it, 99.” He gestured resignedly. “Oh, well . . . Let’s go, 99. You take the KAOS agent on the left, and I’ll take the KAOS agent on the right. Unless, of course, you have a preference. If you’d rather have the KAOS agent on the right, I wouldn’t mind at all taking the KAOS agent on the left.”

“I’m not particular, Max. But shouldn’t we hurry?”

“Haste makes waste, 99. First, let’s get a decision on which KAOS agent belongs to who. We’d feel pretty silly if we rushed over there and both grabbed the KAOS agent on the left, and the KAOS agent on the right, in the ensuing melee, got away. Or, vice-versa, if we rushed over there and both grabbed the KAOS agent on the right, and—”

“I’ll take the one on the left, Max,” 99 said wearily.

“I just hope, 99, that, on the way, you won’t take advantage of the woman’s prerogative to change her mind. If you did, and decided to switch to the KAOS agent on the—”

“Max! They’ve grabbed Professor von BOOM!”

“There are a lot of people who haven’t heard the old saying, ‘Haste makes waste,’ ” Max said. “Those KAOS agents, for example, probably haven’t the slightest notion that they’re bungling this.”

99 rushed through the doorway. “Max, hurry!”

“Coming, 99!”

Max and 99 dashed from headquarters, worked their way through the passers-by, and darted out into the street. At that same moment, they heard the ear-splitting roar of an engine. Max halted, stopping 99, too.

“Max! What is it?”

“Did you hear that? It must be some kind of a warning.”

“Warning? Warning?” 99 said frantically. “What kind of a warning?”

“You’ll notice, 99, that we’re crossing in the middle of the block. We should have gone to the corner.”

“But, Max, if we’d— Max!” She suddenly pointed. Max looked in the direction she was indicating and discovered the source of the ear-splitting sound. A huge mail truck was bearing down on them, its engine roaring.

“Uh-huh,” Max smiled knowingly. “It fits the picture very neatly. You understand, of course, what’s happening.”

“Well . . . I can sort of guess,” 99 said. “I think we’re going to be run down. Is that right, Max?”

“I’m afraid you’re indulging in some very shallow thinking, 99,” Max said. “There’s a great deal more to it than that. In fact, what we’re involved in here is a typical example of the KAOS
modus operandi.”

“Really, Max?” 99 said interestedly. “What does that mean?”

“Modus operandi,
99, is Latin for ‘the way they do it.’ The Roman cops, back in ancient times, used the phrase a lot. After they figured out how a crime was committed, they would refer to the method as the
modus operandi.
One cop, for instance, would say to another cop, ‘How did they do it?’ And the other cop would reply,
‘modus operandi
.’ ”