Get Smart 8 - Max Smart Loses Control (3 page)

“That’s it,” Hymie pointed. “That little locksmith shop with the sign on the door saying, ‘Out to Latch.’ ”

Max parked the car, then he and Hymie and 99 entered the shop. They were met by the director of the secret installation.

“Isn’t this a little dangerous, leaving your door open like that?” Max said. “It’s no wonder Number One was stolen.”

“Our lock is broken,” the director explained. “And we can’t find a locksmith to fix it. They’re all so busy. The soonest appointment we could get was for six months from now.”

“Appointment?” 99 asked.

“You have to take the lock to them, these days,” the director replied. “They don’t make house calls.”

“Just show us where Number One was kept when she was abducted, will you, please?” Max said.

“Max . . .” Hymie complained. “I’m supposed to say that.”

“Oh . . . yes, sorry.”

“Are you in charge of this case, Hymie?” the director said. “I’m not surprised. I always say, ‘It takes a machine to catch a machine.’ Well, I don’t have to show you to Number One’s quarters—you’ve spent enough time with her. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to work. We have the design for the new model personal computer on the drawing board. Without Number One around, we have to do our own thinking.”

“How is it coming?” Max asked.

“Great . . . great,” the director replied. “We only started yesterday and already we’ve got all our pencils sharpened. Today, we’re working on thumb-tacking the drawing paper to the drawing board. It’s quite a challenge.”

When the director departed, Hymie led Max and 99 to a rear room. It was furnished with plastic chairs and decorated with pop art posters.

“You’re right,” Max said to Hymie. “Number One is a bit of a swinger.”

Hymie nodded. “The last time I saw her, she was talking about becoming a hippie.”

“Did she?” 99 asked.

Hymie shook his head. “Her shape was against her. No hips.”

“What baffles me,” Max said, looking around, “is how our people got her in here, and how those KAOS agents got her out. If she’s as big as the Chief said, she wouldn’t fit through the door.”

Hymie walked to a pop art poster that looked like a target and pressed a finger to the bull’s eye. The whole wall raised, leaving a large opening. Beyond the opening was the alley.

Max frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s the way they got her in and out,” he suggested.

“Here are tire tracks,” Hymie said, stepping out into the alley. “They probably backed the truck up to this secret opening, loaded her aboard, and drove her away. I think we ought to follow these tracks.”

“Hymie, those tracks are going to disappear,” Max said. “Tires don’t leave tracks on cement. As soon as the truck left the alley, it ceased to leave a trail.”

“I have extra-sensitive vision, Max,” Hymie replied. “I can see tire tracks even on cement. There are a lot of advantages to being a machine. I have extra-sensitive hearing, too. I can hear a pin drop a mile away.”

“I’m sure that’s very impressive, Hymie,” Max said. “But it’s not the kind of thing you can build a career on. How many openings are there for pin listeners?”

“Hymie . . . Max . . .” 99 said. “If we’re going to track that truck, shouldn’t we be doing it? Every second is precious.”

They returned to the car and, with Max at the wheel, began following the tire tracks. When they left the alley, the tracks disappeared. But Hymie insisted that they were still visible to him, and he gave directions as Max steered the car through the city.

“I feel very foolish,” Max grumbled. “99 . . . are people staring at us?”

“Max, they don’t know we’re following invisible tire tracks.”

“But I know,” Max said. “I thought maybe they could read my expression.”

On Hymie’s order, Max turned the car into another alley. A moment later, Hymie commanded him to stop.

“What now?” Max asked.

“See those other tracks?” Hymie said. “They cross the tracks that we’ve been following. I think Number One was transferred to a different truck.”

“Nonsense!” Max said. “Why would they do that? They already had Number One in a truck, it would be foolish to waste a lot of time putting her into another truck. Hymie, the city is full of trucks, coming and going. And with all those trucks moving around, a couple of them are bound to cross paths. Let’s stick with the original tracks.”

“Max, the way I compute it, Number One was transferred to a second truck.”

“Hymie, believe me, computation is no substitute for experience,” Max said. “My superior knowledge of the way KAOS works tells me that Number One remained aboard the first truck. We’ll drive on, following the tracks we were following in the first place.”

“Max . . . I’m in charge.”

“All right, be in charge,” Max said, driving on. “But do it my way.”

Hymie began giving directions again, and they soon reached the waterfront area. At the end of a pier, the tire tracks stopped.

“Hymie,” Max said, “did those tire tracks by any chance indicate that we were following a flying truck?”

The robot shook his head. “I computed it as a plain ’ol ordinary truck, Max.”

“Then, obviously, Number One was put aboard a barge or a ship at this point,” Max said.

“I still think she was transferred to another truck back in that other alley,” Hymie insisted.

“Oh, you do, eh?” Max said smugly. “All right, then, Hymie, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll separate. You can follow your silly hunch, and 99 and I will proceed according to my understanding of the intricate and devious ways of KAOS. In other words, you go back to that alley, and 99 and I will go on from here.”

“Max, it’s wet out there,” 99 pointed out.

“Let me handle this, 99. I know what I’m doing.” He turned back to Hymie. “Is that acceptable to you? Are you willing to make a contest of it? Will you pit your intuition against my expertise?”

“If that’s what you want, Max,” Hymie said sadly.

“That’s exactly the way I want it,” Max replied. “You go your way, and we’ll go mine.”

“Max—” 99 began.

“Don’t say it, 99!” Max warned. “I don’t care what you think, you have a duty to be loyal to me. I’m your own kind.”

“All right, Max . . . since you put it that way,” 99 sighed.

“You better get a move on if you’re going to track that other truck, Hymie,” Max said. “Go on—shake a leg.”

“Right or left, Max?”

“What I mean is: buzz off!”

Hymie departed, sounding a great deal like a bumble bee.

“What now, Max?” 99 asked.

“My guess is that Number One is out there in the harbor somewhere, 99,” Max replied. “She’s probably aboard a sea-going laboratory that’s disguised as a barge. If I were KAOS, that’s the way I’d do it.”

99 looked out into the harbor. “Max, there are a lot of barges out there. What are we going to do, go from one to the other?”

“That would take too much time, 99. We’re going to get a look at them from the air.”

From the pier, Max and 99 drove to the secret Control airport and signed out a helicopter, then flew back to the harbor area and began examining the barges from the air.

“There it is!” Max cried victoriously. “See that great big barge with that single crate on its deck! That barge has KAOS written all over it!”

“That says ‘Miss Madison Avenue,’ Max.”

“What I mean is, 99, why such a big barge to carry just one crate? And the answer is: below deck, there’s a laboratory, and it’s swarming with KAOS scientists who intend to brainwash Number One. We’re lucky we found her before they could get her uncrated.”

“Well, maybe, Max,” 99 said doubtfully. “What do we do now? Fly back to the airport and call the Coast Guard and have them board that barge?”

“99, time is precious—you said that yourself,” Max replied. “I’m going down there and make sure that that’s Number One in that crate, then, when I verify that it is, I’ll take over the barge and force the crew to return to the pier.”

“We could radio to the Coast Guard, Max.”

“And let them get all the glory? 99, this is very important to me. I have to prove to the Chief that I’m better qualified to handle this case than Hymie is. Do you think I want to play second fiddle to a collection of nuts and bolts and transformers the rest of my life?”

“All right, Max . . . I understand.”

99 took over the controls of the helicopter, then descended and hovered over the deck of the barge, and Max lowered himself by a rope. A few moments later, he dropped to the deck.

From the bridge of the barge came a shout. “Hey, you! What’re you doing there!”

Max raced along the deck to the crate and put his ear to it. He heard a ticking sound. “Don’t worry, Number One,” he said. This is Max Smart speaking. I’m a Control agent. I’ll have you out of there and back with your pop art posters in no time at all. All I have to do is take command of this barge.”

“Get away from that crate!” a voice called.

Turning, Max saw a number of seamen running toward him, led by the barge captain.

“Very clever—disguising yourselves as a captain and ordinary seamen,” Max replied. “Just what I’d expect.”

“Will you get away from that crate!” the captain said angrily.

“In a pig’s eye, I will!” Max snarled.

“Get ’im!” the captain commanded.

The seamen rushed at Max. He dropped one with a karate chop, another with a right to the jaw, a third with a left to the belly, and another with a kick to the head. But the fifth seaman tackled him, bringing him down. The others, having recovered, piled on top of Max. He struggled out from beneath them. They jumped up and attacked again. Max dropped three of them with one karate blow. The fourth leaped on his back. Max ducked down, hurling him through the air, and he hit the fifth seaman, knocking him off his feet. But by then the other three had regained their feet and were closing in on Max. He hit them with a body check, upending them again, then ran toward the bridge. As he was climbing a ladder, two of the seamen caught up with him and dragged him down. Max kicked—one fell. He swung a roundhouse—another dropped. Again, Max started up the ladder. But his foot missed the bottom rung, and, losing his balance, he fell backwards and struck his head on the deck. Groggily, Max struggled to his feet. The whole crew was charging at him again. Dizzy, he knew he would not be able to handle them. Making a command decision, deciding that it would be better to destroy Number One than let her remain in the hands of KAOS, he got a grenade from his pocket, pulled the cap, then hurled it in the direction of the crate.

The explosion shook the whole barge.

The captain and the crew halted in their tracks.

“I suppose you probably had a reason for doing that,” the captain said sadly.

“I did it in the name of Good,” Max replied. “For Good to triumph over Evil, sometimes it’s necessary to blow things up.”

“I knew you’d have a reason,” the captain said philosophically. “A man doesn’t go around blowing up barges without a reason.”

A wristwatch fell at Max’s feet. He looked up. The sky seemed to be filled with falling wristwatches.

“Crazy weather we’re having,” Max commented to the captain.

“Oh?”

“It’s raining wristwatches,” Max pointed out.

“I’m not altogether surprised,” the captain said. “You blow up a crate full of five-hundred-thousand wristwatches and you’re bound to get a little fallout.”

Max peered at him interestedly. “Would you object to answering a few personal questions?” he asked.

“What have I got to lose?”

“Now, think this over carefully before you answer,” Max said. “Is there any connection between this barge and KAOS?”

“There wasn’t until a few minutes ago,” the captain replied. He looked up at the falling wristwatches. “Now, all is chaos.”

“I’m referring to the super secret organization that is dedicated to the establishment of evil as a way of life,” Max said.

“Oh . . . that,” the Captain nodded. “Yes, I was hired by an advertising agency.”

Max shook his head. “I don’t think you understand. Answer me this: was that a giant computer inside that crate, or, as your earlier comment leads me to believe, was the crate full of wristwatches?”

“Five-hundred-thousand tick-tocks,” the captain replied.

“That’s very interesting,” Max said. “If all you had in the crate was wristwatches, why did you get so excited when I boarded your barge?”

“We were on a secret mission,” the captain explained.

“Aha!”

“For the advertising agency,” the captain went on.

“Oh. Ahh . . . could you explain that, please?”

“Well, I suppose you’ve seen that television commercial where a wristwatch is strapped to the propeller of a motorboat motor, and then the motor is turned on, and then when it’s turned off again, the wristwatch is still ticking. That sells a lot of watches.”

“I’ve seen it,” Max replied. “But what’s this about a secret mission?”

“Those commercials are done in secret,” the captain explained. “It’s not good to have a big crowd around. I was delivering those watches to Niagara Falls. The next test was to drop a watch over the Falls in a barrel.”

“But five-hundred-thousand?” Max said.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work the first time,” the captain explained.

“But five-hundred-thousand?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t work the second time, either,” the captain said. “In fact, sometimes you have to try it four-hundred-and-ninety-nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine times before you find a watch that will come through the test and keep ticking.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Max nodded. He looked down. “Well, anyway, the weather has taken a turn for the better. It’s raining rain now.”

The captain looked down, too. Water was washing over the deck. It was shoetop high. “The barge is sinking,” he said.

Max looked up. The sky was clear—except for a helicopter. “You may be right about that,” he admitted.

“You blew a hole in it,” the captain said. “You blow a hole in a barge and you’re bound to get a little sinking.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Max said. “But, you must remember, my intentions were good. That ought to count for something. Actually, since I did what I did in the interests of the civilized world, and since you’re a citizen of that world, you really ought to thank me.”