Get Smart 9 - Max Smart and the Ghastly Ghost Affair (3 page)

They had no trouble locating the train once they reached the station. It had both a number—one-thousand-four-hundred-seventy-six—and a name—The Miami Beach Local.

“Doesn’t this train go to New York?” Max asked the conductor as he and 99 climbed aboard.

“That’s right—it doesn’t,” the conductor, a fat, jolly-looking man with a white beard, replied. “We’re still on the winter schedule. All trains—including New York trains—go to Miami Beach.”

“That’s the first thing about this case that’s made sense,” Max said to 99, leading the way along the corridor to their compartment. “You know who ought to be running this country? The same people who manage the railroads. There’s an old saying: What’s good for the St. Louis, Lackawana, St. Pierre & Hudson is good for the St. Louis, Lackawana, St. Pierre & Hudson.” He opened the door to the compartment and looked in, then entered, motioning for 99 to follow. “These modern trains are certainly much different from the old ones,” he said approvingly, looking around. “Look—we have our own private coal stove.”

“It’s very nice,” 99 said. “But, Max, I think we ought to start looking for that contingent of KAOS assassins while passengers are still boarding.”

Max looked at her coolly. “99, I’ll make the decisions,” he said. “Not only do I have seniority, but I’m head of the family. And, you are all wrong when you say that passengers are still boarding the train.”

“I am, Max?”

“People are boarding the train,” Max explained. “They don’t become passengers until after they’re on board. See how wrong you were? Will you just let me make the command decisions from now on?”

“Yes, Max.”

“Fine. Now, let’s go start looking for that contingent of KAOS assassins while
people
are still boarding. And, while we’re doing it, we can also look over the
passengers
who are already aboard.”

Max and 99 left the compartment and began strolling along the aisle, sizing up the people who were boarding and the passengers who were already aboard.

“Be casual,” Max said to 99. “Make it look as if we’re simply out for a morning constitutional. It’s too bad we didn’t think to bring along a dog to walk.”

“I’m being casual, Max,” 99 said. “You’re the one who looks nervous.”

“I can’t help it,” Max replied. “I think, down deep, I have a guilty conscience about spying. My real philosophy is: what other people do is none of my business.” He held out a hand. “See? I’m shaking like a leaf. Let’s start jogging, 99, so we won’t be so conspicuous.”

“Jogging? Not conspicuous?”

“Everybody jogs these days, 99. But how many people amble up and down the aisle of a train looking for KAOS assassins? If I could only—” He suddenly brightened. “I’ve got it!” To calm himself, he got the Coolidge-head penny from his pocket, and casually flipped it into the air, then caught it, as they proceeded along the aisle.

“Max,” 99 complained, “now you’re making
me
nervous. I’m afraid you’ll lose that penny. It’s the only way we’ll have of contacting Control once we find out where the KAOS meeting is being held, you know. Without that penny, the whole mission might abort.”

“99, relax,” Max replied reassuringly. “Flipping a coin is as natural to me as eating or sleeping or crossing my toes. I do it without thinking. And, as far as I know, I never miss.”

“Sir!” a voice called.

Max and 99 stopped and looked back. A large, fat, evil-looking man wearing dark glasses was gesturing to Max. “I believe this is yours,” he said. He returned to where Max and 99 were standing and put the Coolidge-head penny into Max’s open hand. “You dropped it as I was passing you,” the man said. Then he turned and continued along the aisle.

“Max . . . what was that you were saying?” 99 said.

“Well . . . maybe I miss every once in a while,” Max replied. “But in the long run—”

“Not that,” 99 said. “I mean about crossing your toes. Max, that’s not natural. I’ve never heard of anybody who could cross their toes before. Max . . . why didn’t you tell me about this
before
we were married?”

“I’m sorry, 99,” Max replied. “I just didn’t think it was worth mentioning. It comes natural to me, so I thought it was natural for everybody—as natural as being double-jointed.”

“Well . . . a lot of people have double-jointed fingers, that’s true,” 99 said.

“Fingers? I’m talking about double-jointed eyelids. Don’t tell me
that
isn’t natural, either! I’m beginning to won—” Max abruptly interrupted himself, looking thoughtful. “99—that big, fat, evil-looking fellow with the dark glasses. Isn’t that a lot like what a typical KAOS assassin would look like?”

“Max, I think you’re right!” 99 looked up the aisle. “Do you see him? Where did he go?”

“I don’t see him at the moment,” Max replied. “But we know the direction he took—he went forward. And if you go forward on a train, the only other way you can go is backwards. You can’t turn left, and you can’t turn right. And we know he didn’t come back this way. So, if he didn’t stop going forward and reverse his direction and come back this way, then he must be— I’ll tell you what, 99. Let’s just stand right here. Maybe he’ll pass by again.”

99 pointed forward. “All we have to do is go that way—the way
he
went—Max.”

Max shrugged. “Frankly, it sounds too simple to me. But, I’ll humor you, 99. We’ll go that way.”

Max and 99 started forward, intending to track down the big, fat, evil-looking man in the dark glasses. At that same instant, however, the train began pulling out—and it started with such a jolt that Max and 99 lost their balance and stumbled backwards through seven cars, ending up on the rear observation platform.

“99! Are you all right?”

“Yes, Max,” 99 replied, rising. “How about you?”

Max got to his feet. “I’m not sure yet,” he said. He grimaced, as if exerting great effort. “Yes . . . okay down there—my toes still cross,” he reported.

“Is it
that
difficult, Max?”

“Only when I’m wearing shoes,” he replied. He blinked rapidly. “Yes, I’m okay all over, 99,” he said. “The old eyelids still bend both ways. Now—where were we?”

“On the trail of the big, fat, evil-looking man with the dark glasses,” 99 replied. “Let’s go, Max!”

“Fine. And . . . ah, on the way, 99 . . . ah, would you keep an eye out for a Coolidge-head penny, please . . . When the train started, I was yanked right out from under it. It was in mid-flip and— Well, you get the picture.”

“Oh, Max!”

Proceeding slowly, looking into every nook and cranny for the Coolidge-head penny, Max and 99 made their way forward. When they reached the car they had been in when the train started, they found the fat, jolly-looking conductor with the white beard standing in the aisle examining something small in his hand and chuckling.

“Ah . . . I wonder . . .” Max said. “Is that, by any chance, a Coolidge-head penny?”

The conductor looked disappointed. “Oh, so that’s what it is,” he said. “I guess I was holding it upside down. I thought it was a Lincoln-head penny and Lincoln was wearing a false beard.” He handed the penny to Max.

“A beard that looks like an upside-down Indian head-dress?” Max said.

“Lincoln was a great humorist, you know,” the conductor explained. Then he moved on down the aisle. “Tickets!” he called. “Have your tickets ready!”

Again, Max and 99 moved forward. As before, Max flipped the penny to keep cool. And, once more, watching him flip it, 99 grew increasingly apprehensive.

A short while later, they reached the lounge car. There, at the far end, they spotted the big, fat, evil-looking man in the dark glasses. He was seated in a lounge chair and surrounded by nearly a dozen other evil-looking men in dark glasses—some fat, some thin and some just right. The object of their chase seemed to be holding court. One or another of the men would speak to him, then he would reply. And when he was talking all the others remained silent and attentive.

“Well, is there any doubt in your mind who the big, fat man in the dark glasses is, 99?” Max said. “That’s Arbuthnot. He’s the Great Teacher. And those are his students. I think we’ve found the location of the meeting. It’s being held right here on this train. Now, I’ll just rub this Coolidge-head penny and we’ll—”

“Max,” 99 broke in, “don’t you think we ought to be a little more positive before we have the Chief send a squad of Control agents to take these men into custody? Suppose that
isn’t
Arbuthnot? And suppose those aren’t—”

“All right, 99” Max said. “I have never been so sure of anything in my life. But, since, technically, I suppose, we’re still on our honeymoon and I’m humoring you, I’ll squander a little time and prove to you that I’m right. Now—see those two empty chairs near that group of men? Well, you and I will saunter over there and then we’ll occupy those seats and we’ll eavesdrop on the conversation. Okay?”

“Yes, Max.”

99 sauntered to the far end of the car and then sat down in one of the unoccupied chairs near the group of men that Max had identified as KAOS assassins. When she was seated, Max, still flipping the coin, moved toward her. He had taken only one step, however, when he missed the Coolidge-head penny and it fell in the aisle and then rolled under a chair that was occupied by a little old white-haired lady.

Max got down on his hands and knees and peered under the chair. The little old lady, misunderstanding, whacked him on the back of the head with her purse.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Max apologized, rising and rubbing the back of his head, “but I lost a valuable coin under your chair. I wonder if you would mind getting up for a minute?”

The little old lady cupped a hand around an ear. “What’s that you just lied to me?” she shouted. “I don’t hear good.”

Max glanced around. The lounge car was crowded and everyone was staring at him. He faced back to the little old lady. “I said I lost a penny under your seat!” he told her, speaking loudly. “Would you stand up?”

“I can’t stand the heat, either!” she shouted. “But it’s not hot enough in here to make a big, strappin’ boy like you go faint and fall in the aisle. Get along with you, now, or I’ll break open your skull with my purse and let the sawdust fall out!”

“You may have that purse full of sawdust, but it certainly didn’t feel like it when you hit me,” Max shouted back. “And if you use it on me once more, I’ll kick you right in the shins—I don’t care if you are a hard-of-hearing old hen with white hair!”

The little old lady smiled apologetically. “Why didn’t you say you dropped a penny under my chair,” she chided. “Go ahead and get it—I don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Max said.

As soon as he had retrieved the Coolidge-head penny, Max joined 99, seating himself beside her and near the alleged KAOS assassins.

“No matter how it turns out otherwise, this trip is a success for me already,” he whispered to 99. “I finally found out how to handle little old white-haired ladies. You have to threaten to kick them in the shins.” He glanced toward the group of men in dark glasses. “Are you convinced yet?” he asked.

“Not exactly, Max,” 99 replied. “Listen to what they’re saying.”

Max leaned toward the group of men.

“Sir,” one of the thin, evil-looking men said to the big, fat evil-looking man, “all the yo-yo industry wants to do is make the men in the Army happy. We don’t care anything about selling yo-yos. We’d be happy to give these yo-yos to the men in the armed services, except that if we didn’t make a profit, we couldn’t pay our taxes, could we? And if we didn’t pay our taxes, where would the government get the money to pay the men in the armed services? So, do you see what I’m getting at?”

“Well . . . ‘round-about, yeah,” the big fat, evil-looking man replied. “But ’splain it to me, anyways.”

“All the yo-yo industry wants you to do—as Chairman of the Committee on Army Purchasing—is to pressure the Chief of Staff to buy our yo-yos for three-hundred dollars a dozen. That way, we’ll make a bigger profit, and—if we’re caught—we’ll pay higher taxes, and, unless it’s used for something else, like raising Senators’ salaries, there will be more money to pay the men in the armed services. Get it?”

“I don’t know—
do
I get it?” the big, fat, evil-looking man asked. “And, if I do, what percentage?”

“Ten per cent, sir?”

“That’s fine. Just send the check to my favorite charity—the Society for the Preservation of the Coonskin Cap. Make it out to my wife—she’s the head coonskin.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Sir,” another thin, evil-looking man said, “we in the skinless frankfurter business have an old saying. It goes: What’s good for the yo-yo industry is good for the skinless frankfurter industry. Now, keeping that in mind . . .”

Max leaned back toward 99. “Are you convinced?” he asked. “Shall I rub the Coolidge-head penny now?”

“Max! Those aren’t KAOS assassins! After hearing that conversation, don’t you know who they are? That big, fat, evil-looking man in the dark glasses is a senator. And all those other evil-looking men in dark glasses are lobbyists.”

Max glanced again toward the group. “You mean men who try to get senators and representatives and other people in government to do special favors for them?” he said. He turned back to 99. “That’s terrible! I didn’t think they were serious.” He shook his head. “I find that hard to believe, 99. He doesn’t look like a senator to me.”

“Of course not, Max—he’s wearing dark glasses. But, if you don’t believe me, ask him.”

“I will,” Max said. He moved his chair closer to the group, then broke in on the conversation. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, addressing the big, fat, evil-looking man, “but my wife and I are having a disagreement—”

“Bring it around when it’s born, and I’ll kiss it on the forehead,” the fat man said. “That’s the worst thing about being a statesman—all that baby-kissing.”

“No, I mean we have a difference of opinion. You see, I think you’re Arbuthnot, the international assassin and Great Teacher, and my wife thinks you’re just another corrupt politician. Which one of us is correct?”

“You’re both wrong,” the big, fat, evil-looking man replied. “I’m not ‘just another’ corrupt politician. Why, I’m famous from coast to coast and border to border for my corruptionness.”