Get Smart 8 - Max Smart Loses Control (2 page)

“I agree, Chief,” 99 said. “I don’t know how I’d get along without my computer.”

“I’d be lost without mine, too,” Hymie said.

The others looked at him.

“Hymie, you
are
a computer,” the Chief said. “Why do you need a computer?”

“It’s somebody to talk to,” Hymie replied. “I’d be very lonesome without it.”

“I know what he means, Chief,” Max said. “Before I got my computer, I had nobody to talk to but the corridor outside my apartment door. But it never answered. I never fail to get an answer from my computer, though. Unfortunately, it’s a bit of a crank. It keeps telling me to ‘shut up.’ ”

“I can’t imagine why, Max,” the Chief said sarcastically.

“Chief,” 99 asked, “does this assignment somehow concern computers?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” the Chief replied. “Yes—it does. It has been predicted that within ten years computers will be doing all of our thinking for us. I—”

“I must be ahead of my time, as usual,” Max said. “My computer does most of my thinking for me already.”

“Yes, Max. As I was saying, it has been predicted—”

“Ah . . . Chief . . . who made that prediction?” Max asked.

“A computer.”

“Oh. Well, it must be accurate, then. Computers never make mistakes.”

“Chief . . .” 99 said. “Couldn’t that be dangerous?”

“Exactly, 99,” the Chief replied. “In fact, the danger already exists. It has come to our attention that KAOS has been experimenting with a number of personal computers, readjusting them so that they give their owners outlandish instructions.” He looked at Max. “I suspect that we have an example of that right here,” he said.

Max frowned. “You mean
my
computer?”

“Well, Max, how else can you explain those golf knickers?”

Max pondered for a moment. “I’ve just been named the new pro at the Chevy Chase Country Club?” he guessed.

The Chief shook his head.

“A flood is expected and by noon the water will be knee-high?”

“No, Max.”

“I give up, Chief. What’s the answer?”

“Your computer has been gimmicked, Max.”

Max shook his head. “Impossible. My computer would have mentioned it. It tells me everything. It tells me a lot of things I don’t even want to know. You should have heard what it tried to tell me last night about the people who have the apartment next door. Talk about gossip!”

“All right, Max. Nevermind the—”

“That’s why I was up so late last night,” Max said. “I was listening at the wall. And, believe me, Chief, my computer was right. That couple next door is ready for the loony bin. They were telling their guests about a fellow who lives next door to them who talks to the corridor. I’ve heard some wild stories in my time, but—”

“Max!”

“I’m just trying to defend my computer, Chief. You’re being very unfair to it.”

“All right, Max. I won’t argue with you. Your computer is in perfect working order. However, there are a number of computers that KAOS has got to. When Agent 76 came in this morning, for instance, he was wearing a bedsheet and had a rose between his teeth.”

“Are you sure it was his computer’s fault, Chief?” Max asked. “Maybe 76 is an Astigmatist.”

“Chief,” 99 said, “I don’t understand what KAOS thinks it can gain by gimmicking a few computers. After all, there are hundreds of thousands of computers in use. KAOS can’t get to all of them.”

“No, not one by one,” the Chief admitted. “But there is a way that, in time, KAOS could get control of all of those individual computers. As you may or may not know, 99, those individual computers were designed by a master computer. The master computer is kept here in Washington and it’s called: Number One.”

“Does it have a middle name?” Max asked.

“No, Max.”

“I like to have all the details,” Max explained. “Going out on an assignment without all the facts is like being rejected by the Boy Scouts.”

“Uh . . . the Boy Scouts, Max?” the Chief said. “I don’t get the connection.”

“Without the facts, you’re not Prepared,” Max explained.

“Oh. Well, anyway, these small, personal computers are designed—as I said—by the master computer, Number One. Number One, of course, is always making improvements on the new, personal, smaller computers. So, in time, the smaller computers that are in operation now, in homes all over America, will be replaced, having become obsolete.”

“You mean today’s computers will be replaced by tomorrow’s computers,” Max translated.

“That’s what I said, Max.”

“Then that’s probably where I heard it,” Max nodded.

“Now, just suppose that Number One could be brainwashed,” the Chief continued. “It would mean that all the personal computers she designed in the future would be brainwashed, too. As a matter of fact—”

“Chief—” 99 interrupted. “Did you refer to Number One as ‘she’?”

“Yes, 99. Number One is female.”

99 looked at him doubtfully. “How do you know for sure, Chief?”

“For heaven’s sake, 99,” Max said, “don’t you know yet how to tell the difference between boys and girls? Girls are the ones with the long hair and— Ah . . . well, come to think of it, I guess the long hair rule isn’t reliable anymore.” He turned to the Chief. “How
do
you know that Number One is a female, Chief?”

“Her inventor told us so,” the Chief replied. “But, anyway, that’s not important. The point—”

“Not important!” Max said indignantly. “Maybe it isn’t important to you, but I’ll bet it is to a boy computer.”

“I’ll second that,” Hymie said.

“See?” Max said to the Chief.

“But Chief,” 99 said, “aren’t you worrying about something that couldn’t possibly happen? If Number One is here in Washington—headquarters for the Army, Navy and Marines—she must be under constant guard. And KAOS couldn’t brainwash her without first kidnaping her, could they?”

“Right,” Max said. “You’re just an old worry-wort, Chief.”

“Last night,” the Chief announced, “Number One was abducted.”

“Did anybody think to give her an aspirin?” Max asked.

“Abducted means kidnaped, Max.”

“That’s terrible!” Max said. “Chief, do you realize what could happen? KAOS could brainwash Number One! And from then on, every computer it designed would be brainwashed, too! KAOS would soon be master of the entire civilized world! Why isn’t something being done? Am I the only one who understands how serious this is? Why are we just standing here? Chief!—do something!”

“I had in mind assigning my top secret agents to finding Number One and bringing her back,” the Chief said.

“Smart move,” Max said. “Have you done it yet?”

“Well . . . not yet, but—”

“There’s no time to waste,” Max said, hustling the Chief toward the door. “You get those agents on the job! Every second counts. Don’t waste time standing around talking to us. 99 and Hymie and I can wait.” He shoved the Chief out the door, then closed it behind him. “The Chief needs a little push every now and then,” he said, facing back to 99 and Hymie. “I hope he isn’t gone too long, though. I’m anxious to know what our new assignment will be.”

99 went to the door and opened it. The Chief, looking discouraged, re-entered the office, moved back to his desk and sat down. He covered his face with his hands and sighed deeply.

“How’s the search for Number One coming along?” Max asked interestedly.

The Chief’s whole body began to tremble, as if he might be crying.

“Max . . .” 99 said, “wouldn’t it be a nice surprise if we were assigned to find Number One?”

“That’s a ver-ry good idea, 99,” Max replied. He addressed the Chief. “Why didn’t you think of that, Chief? Does it make sense to keep 99 and Hymie and me sitting around your office, waiting for some second-rate assignment, when the fate of the entire civilized world is threatened? I hate to say it, Chief, but sometimes you give the impression that you’re just not too well organized.”

The Chief uncovered his face and wiped tears from his cheeks. “May I give you your instructions now, Max?” he asked pleadingly.

“If you’ve finally got yourself organized . . . yes, go ahead,” Max replied.

The Chief turned to Hymie. “I want you to be in charge of this case,” he said. “The information—”

“Now . . . just . . . wait . . . a . . . minute!” Max broke in. “What do you mean, Hymie will be in charge of the case? I happen to be the senior agent, Chief. According to our union contract, the senior agent is always in charge! Besides . . . Hymie is a machine. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my best friends are machines. But a machine takes orders, it doesn’t give orders. Everybody knows that.”

“Tell us again, Max, how it is that you’re wearing golf knickers,” the Chief said.

“Because my computer told me— Let me put it another way, Chief. As I pointed out before, my union contract guarantees me that I will be the agent-in-charge when I have seniority. And if I don’t get what’s coming to me, I’ll pull every Control agent within the sound of my voice out on strike!”

“Max!” the Chief protested. “This is a national emergency! Where is your patriotism?”

“On my back!” Max replied smuggly. “Who else in this room is wearing a red, white and blue pullover?”

“But, Max, I’m only taking orders,” the Chief said. ‘The instructions to put Hymie in charge came straight from the top. It was a direct order from HIM!”

Max’s eyes opened wide. “From HIM?”

“Uncle HIM,” Hymie corrected.

“Well . . . if it came from HIM,” Max grumbled. “What HIM wants, HIM gets, I suppose. But I don’t understand his reasoning.”

“He explained that to me,” the Chief said. “It’s his notion that it takes a machine to catch a machine.”

“That’s an old wives’ tale,” Max muttered.

“There’s one other reason,” the Chief said. “It seems that Hymie and Number One used to date.”

Max turned to Hymie. “Is that true?” he asked.

The robot nodded. “We were a ‘thing’ for a while,” he replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about it, Max. It was in all the engineering journal gossip columns.”

“Be that as it may,” the Chief said, “orders are orders, and if HIM wants Hymie to be in charge, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m sorry, Max.”

Max shrugged. “To me, it’s irrelevant,” he said. “I’m no prima donna. I can take orders just as well as I can give orders. Success is my only concern. As long as the Good Guys win and the Bad Guys lose, I’m satisfied. Let it never be said that Max Smart is a crybaby or a spoilsport.”

“That’s a wonderful attitude, Max,” the Chief said.

Max turned his back to him.

“Max . . .”

“99,” Max said, “will you please tell the Chief I’m no longer speaking to him.”

“Oh, Max, don’t be that way,” 99 begged. “It isn’t the Chief’s fault that Hymie is in charge.”

“He didn’t have to accept HIM’s order,” Max said. “He could have told HIM he’d rather resign than hurt my feelings.”

“I tried that, Max,” the Chief said. “But HIM told me that if I resigned he’d give my job to Hymie. So, I wouldn’t have gained anything, would I?”

Max faced him again. “Anyway, it was a good try, Chief,” he said. “And I forgive you. Now . . . what are the instructions?”

“I have to give the instructions to Hymie, Max, not you.”

“Couldn’t you give them to me and I could pass them on? You know how busy Hymie is. He has a lot of responsibility, being in charge of an important case like this.”

The Chief shook his head.

“Well, then . . . is it all right if I
listen
when you give Hymie the instructions?”

“Of course, Max.”

Max addressed Hymie. “Pay attention,” he said, “I have something I want the Chief to tell you.”

“Hymie,” the Chief said, “here are your instructions: find Number One and bring her back.”

“Understood,” Hymie replied.

“Hymie will need a little more than that, Chief,” Max said. “How, for instance, will he identify Number One?”

“Hymie knows,” the Chief replied. “He used to date her—remember?”

“But how will I know?” Max asked. “I’ve never even been introduced to the girl!”

“You’ll have to get that information from the agent-in-charge, Max.”

“I will not!” He turned to 99. “You ask him,” he said.

“Hymie, can you describe Number One for us, please,” she asked.

The robot responded with a shrill wolf whistle.

“To you, maybe, but not to me,” Max said. “Be a little more specific. Is she round? Square? What color are her flashing fights? Protruding knobs? How will we know her when we see her?”

“She’s a flirt, for one thing,” Hymie replied.

“Maybe I can help, Max,” the Chief said. “I know, for one thing, that she’s square.”

“Not according to Hymie,” Max said. “The way he describes her, she’s a swinger.”

“Square,” the Chief insisted, “and about the size of a large refrigerator.”

“She sounds charming,” Max said.

“It’s all put-on,” Hymie said. “At heart, she’s as cold as ice.”

“I’m beginning to get the picture,” Max nodded. “It will be easy to identify her. All we’ll have to do is open her door. If her light goes on—that’s her!”

“The only information I have on the kidnaping, Hymie,” the Chief said, “is that she was taken away in a truck. It isn’t much, but, at least, it’s better than nothing. It’s your case from here on out. So . . . hop to it.”

Hymie hippity-hopped toward the door.

“What baffles me is what a nice girl like Number One ever saw in him,” Max said, shaking his head woefully.

F
ROM
C
ONTROL
H
EADQUARTERS
, Hymie, Max and 99 drove toward the secret installation where Number One had been kept before she was computer-napped.

“Let’s see . . . I think it’s down this way . . .” Max said, turning the wrong way into a one-way street.

“It’s the other way,” Hymie said.

“You may be in charge of this case, but I’m in charge of this car—at least, while I’m driving it,” Max said testily. “And I say it’s this way!”

99 pointed to a dead end. “Max, the street stops up ahead.”

“Well . . .” Max said gruffly, “they’ve probably changed the neighborhood since I was here last.” He turned the car around and drove in the other direction. “I don’t know why they don’t put up signs,” he groused. “How is anybody supposed to find a secret installation when they keep its whereabouts a secret!”