Get Smart 8 - Max Smart Loses Control (9 page)

“Max . . . you saddled the steer,” 99 said.

“Lady, you know that, and I know that,” Max said, “but the steer doesn’t know it. It thinks it’s a horse. Take a close look—it isn’t wearing its faucets.”

“I’ve changed my mind—I don’t think I’ll ride today, after all,” 99 said. She lowered her voice. “I’ll go back to the guest house and keep my eyes and ears open.”

“Anytime we can be of service, lady—don’t hesitate to call on us,” Max said.

99 departed, headed toward the guest house.

“Fantastic willpower,” Max said to Hymie.

“How do you mean that, Max?”

“She’ll probably spend the whole day hanging around the lobby, hanging around the pool, sticking strictly to duty.”

“That doesn’t sound so difficult, Max,” Hymie said.

“Are you kidding? Staying on the job, when you’ve got your own private sandbox waiting for you in your room? Talk about a challenge to the old willpower!”

“I think I’ll do some scouting around, Max,” Hymie said. “But one of us better stay here with the horse and cow.”

“Let’s see . . . if you go scouting around, that leaves me to do the horse and cow sitting, right?”

“Right, Max.”

“Machines don’t have all the brains,” Max said smugly.

Not long after Hymie had gone, a plump, middle-aged woman appeared. She was wearing riding breeches and carrying a riding crop.

“Good afternoon, young man,” she said gayly. “I think I’ll take one of the ponies out for a gallop.”

“Isn’t that a little strenuous at your age, lady,” Max said. “The horse is probably used to it. But you’re not as young as you used to be, you know. You don’t look to me like you could even walk fast, let alone gallop.”

The woman giggled. “I’ll be riding the pony,” she explained. “Although,” she said, “I’m not sure how well I’ll do at it. I’ve never ridden a horse before. In fact, being from the city, I can’t recall ever seeing a horse before—not up close, anyway.” She pointed. “I probably wouldn’t have known that was a horse if it didn’t have a saddle on it.” She placed a foot in the stirrup. “Will you give me a leg up, please?” she asked.

“So that’s how this ranch got its name!” Max said

He boosted the woman up into the saddle, then stepped back.

“Is he gentle?” she asked.

“Unless you wave a red flag in front of him,” Max replied.

“How do I get him going?” she inquired.

“I’m not sure,” Max replied. “Is there a starter button anywhere up there?”

“I don’t know . . . I . . . where would I look?”

“On the control panel, probably to the left of the steering wheel,” Max replied.

“Young man, there must be another way,” the woman said.

“Give him a nudge with that leather stick,” Max suggested.

The woman swatted the steer across the rear with the riding crop. The steer bucked—and the woman went flying through the air and landed several yards away in a haystack.

Max went over to her. “How did you enjoy the ride?” he asked.

“It wasn’t exactly what I expected,” she replied, backing out of the haystack, “but, as long as I’m enjoying myself so much, I suppose that doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Not a bit,” Max agreed. “Care for another ride?”

“Noooo—I think I’ll go back to the pool,” the woman said. “As much as I enjoy riding, I think I enjoy practically drowning even more. It’s amazing what fun that is.” She giggled again. “I think I’m hooked,” she said.

“That’s the way it goes,” Max said. “You get a little water in your ears, and before you know it you’re on a drowning kick.”

As the woman departed, Hymie returned.

“You just missed something,” Max told him. “I had a perfect example here of what can happen to a person when her bedside computer has been brainwashed. This woman is so sure she’s enjoying herself, she can’t wait to get back into the pool and almost drown again.”

“I saw some evidence of it myself,” Hymie said. “People are sitting around the pool in the sun, practically burning to a crisp, and they’re laughing their heads off.”

“Did you see 99?”

“No, she wasn’t there,” Hymie replied. “She probably went in to the lobby to get out of the sun.”

“Or . . . her willpower isn’t what I thought it was,” Max conjectured.

“My investigation paid off though, Max,” Hymie said. “The minute I got close to the pool I heard a very distinct ticking.”

“Hymie . . . Means and Ways told us about that. It’s caused by sun spots.”

“They were lying, Max. That ticking is coming from Number One.”

“A second ago, you told me it was coming from the pool.”

“It is. Number One is somewhere near the pool. The odd thing is . . . the sound seems to be coming from beneath the pool.”

“Well, we’ll just go over there and wait, then,” Max said. “It stands to reason that she can’t stay on the bottom forever.”

“She isn’t at the bottom, Max,” Hymie said. “I looked. The water is clear, and I could see straight to the bottom. She isn’t there, but still . . . still, she’s there.”

“Hymie . . . have you been talking to that brainwashed computer in your room?”

“I know it sounds puzzling, Max,” Hymie said. “But that’s the only way I can explain it. Tonight, when all the guests are asleep, we’ll have to make a thorough examination of that pool.”

“Hymie, you said you could see the whole pool, right to the bottom, and there was nothing to see. How will it help to go back at night? Can you see nothing better in the dark?”

“Max, I know that Number One is near that pool. I heard her.”

“You were hearing sun spots, Hymie.”

Hymie shook his head. “No, it was Number One. I’d know that ticking anywhere. Besides, I could tell by the condition of the ticks. She’s hitting the oil again.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, Hymie, to find that you’ve been at the oil can yourself,” Max said. “But, if you say you heard Number One, and you insist on going back to that pool tonight, I suppose I’ll just have to go along. Brains, apparently, count for nothing in this outfit anymore. Since you’re the leader, and I’m the follower, then all I can do is follow when you lead. That’s just plain ordinary logic. And I want you to know, Hymie, that, although I resented it a little at first, I have come to accept you as my leader. There are no hard feelings. After all, we’re all part of the team. And each team member, in his own way, is just as important as every other team member. In fact, every individual team member is just as important, in his own way, as the leader of the team. Am I not correct about that?”

“I’m glad you feel that way about it, Max.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“What was it, Max?”

“I said that every individual team member, in his own way, is just as important as the leader of the team—isn’t that correct.”

“Of course, Max.”

Max put an arm around Hymie’s shoulder. “Now, look, old buddy,” he said, “since there’s no difference in importance between you and me on this team, doesn’t it seem fairsies to you that I ought to get a turn at being leader? You’ve had it right from the first. Wouldn’t you like a change? How about me taking it from here on out?”

“I couldn’t do. that, Max,” Hymie said. “It would be disobeying orders.”

“Who’d know?” Max said. “Okay, then how’s this? Let me be leader for the rest of the afternoon.”

Hymie shook his head.

“Until tea time?” Max asked.

“I can’t, Max.”

“Just for a short time, then. For as long, say, as it takes me to unsaddle the steer.”

“Well . . .”

“Thanks, Hymie. You’re a real friend,” Max said. He hurried to where the steer was standing and began removing the saddle. “The only thing is,” he said glumly, “if I’m the leader, how come I’m doing the manual labor?” But after a second, he figured it out. “That’s the way it always is,” he said. “If a leader wants a thing done right, he has to do it himself.”

T
HAT NIGHT
, when all of the other hands in the bunkhouse were asleep, Max and Hymie slipped out and made their way toward the pool area.

“I can hear her ticking,” Hymie told Max.

“Are you sure? I’m wearing my house slippers because the boots were too tight, and the slippers are flopping. Maybe that’s what you hear, Hymie.”

“Max, I know ticking from flopping.”

“You
do
have sensitive hearing,” Max said, impressed. “I’ve never been able to tell a flop from a tick from a click. I could sit right next to a machine that was going flop, tick, click, flop, tick, click, flop, tick, click, flop, tick, click, and it would all sound like a series of flaps to me. It would be flap, flap, flap, flap—”

“Believe me, Max, this is ticking—and it’s Number One.”

“And you still think she’s in that pool, eh?”

“Somewhere near the pool, Max.”

“And is she still on the old oil, Hymie?”

“The way she sounds—yes,” Hymie replied. “Her ticks are a little thick-tongued.”

“Oh. Thick-tongued ticks, eh? My guess, Hymie, is that what you’re hearing is flops. There’s a lot of resemblance between a thick tick and a flop. I’ve heard—”

“Max!”

Hymie suddenly reached out and stopped Max. One more step and he would have walked into the pool.

“I get carried away when I get on the subject of thick ticks, flips, flaps, flops and clicks,” Max explained.

Hymie was peering down into the water toward the bottom of the pool. “That’s strange,” he said. “Max, look—there are
two
drains. What could be the reason for that?”

“Simple, Hymie,” Max replied. “One is for the water to drain out, and the other is for it to drain in. You couldn’t have it drain in and out at the same time through the same drain, could you? Use your head, Hymie.”

“You may be right, Max. But I doubt it. You’ve already been right once. I don’t see how it could happen again. Not so soon, anyway. I’m going down to the bottom of that pool and take a look at that second drain.”

“Which one is the second drain, Hymie?”

“The other one.”

“Oh.”

Hymie stood at the edge of the pool, looking down into the water. “I wish I had my trunks,” he said.

“Really? Do you expect to be gone that long? It’s only about twelve feet to the bottom of the pool, Hymie. Why do you think you have to pack a bag?”

“My swimming trunks, Max.”

“You could have said that in the first place.”

Fully-clothed, Hymie dived into the pool, then settled to the bottom. Reaching the other drain, he examined it, then appeared to be turning it, as if it were a dial. Immediately, a doorway opened in the side of the pool. Oddly, though, water did not rush into the opening.

Hymie climbed out of the pool, dripping wet.

“That’s it, Max,” he said.

“It certainly is,” Max said. “Boy, are you going to have a cleaning and pressing job on your hands!”

“I meant I found where they’re keeping Number One,” Hymie said. “Didn’t you see that door open? Behind that opening, there’s a secret installation of some kind. They use air pressure, apparently, to keep the water out. Let’s go, Max.”

“Into the pool?” Max said. “Hymie, I’ve only had this cowhand outfit one day. I’ll ruin it if I jump into the pool in it.”

“Well, I guess you can take it off and go in in your birthday suit, Max.”

“Mmmmmm. Ahh . . . do you have any idea who we might meet in that secret installation, Hymie?”

“Ways and Means, probably.”

“No problem there,” Max said.

“And Number One.”

“Oh-oh. That blows the birthday suit idea. She might be offended. I guess I’ll just have to sacrifice my new cowhand outfit for the good of the civilized world. I hope it appreciates it.”

Max and Hymie dived into the pool, then passed through the doorway, and found themselves in a long, dry corridor. At the far end, they could make out another door, which appeared to be closed.

“That’s probably where they’re keeping Number One,” Hymie said.

“Either that, or it’s a dead-end,” Max said.

“Max, there aren’t any other doors. Why would Ways and Means build an underground corridor, with a secret entrance that makes it so difficult to get to?”

“Hymie, I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t explain things like that.”

“I think we’ll probably find a laboratory beyond that door,” Hymie said. “That’s undoubtedly where the brainwashing is being done.”,

“Well, you’re the leader,” Max said. “If you really have faith in a crazy idea like that—” He shrugged.

With Hymie leading the way, they proceeded.

“Max . . . quiet!” Hymie said.

“I can’t help it. I have water in my house slippers.”

“Empty them.”

Max poured pool water from his slippers, then tagged after Hymie. “I just hope that water didn’t damage my phone,” he said.

“You have a phone in your house slippers, too, Max?”

“I often get calls in the middle of the night. Wouldn’t it be a little silly to get up out of bed and put on my street shoes? Just to answer the phone?”

“I suppose so, Max. I never—”

“Hymie! Stop!”

Hymie halted. “What is it, Max?”

Max pointed to a small nozzle that was protruding from the wall at about head level. “This is where my experience proves valuable,” he said. “You see? You weren’t programmed to detect that. But I spotted it for what it is the instant I saw it. That’s because I’ve seen the same thing several times before. That’s the benefit of experience, Hymie.”

“But what is it, Max?”

“Well . . . let’s see . . . I’ve seen so many of these mechanisms, in time, they all begin to look alike. It might be a napalm spray. Or, on the other hand, it could be a mind-destroying laser beam. Yet, come to think of it, it might be nothing more than an automatic sprinkling system. Although—” He looked around. “—there isn’t much lawn in here. So that probably rules out the automatic sprinkling system.”

“Is there some way we can find out, Max?”

“We could hold something in front of it. I wouldn’t suggest holding a mind in front of it, though. It just might be a mind-destroying laser beam.” He reached into his pocket. “How about a slightly damp pack of matches?” he said.

“In this case, you’ll have to make the decision, Max.”

“All right, we’ll try it.”