She looked at Max. “I thought I had the dog,” she said.
Max ignored the remark. “What special assignment, Chief?”
“Well, this is the week of the kennel show, you know. And we got a report that a certain government is sending a Pekingese to stir up trouble. So we assigned Fang to investigate.”
“Very clever. Sending a plainclothesman, eh?”
“Yes, that was the idea. Now, Max, will you get going?”
Max hesitated. “Chief, you mean I won’t have any assistance on this case?”
“I just can’t spare anyone, Max.”
“But, Chief,” Max protested, “the fate of the entire you-know-what hangs in the you-know-what.”
“I realize that, Max. But I can’t disrupt the routine. If I did that, everytime the you-know-what was hanging in the you-know-what, we’d soon have chaos around here.”
“KAOS, you mean.”
“No, I mean we’d lose control.”
“You mean if KAOS were here, we’d lose Control.”
“Max, I don’t know what I mean any more.”
“You better try to get control of yourself, Chief. If you don’t know what you mean any more, the whole organization could end up in chaos.”
“Go, Max!”
“Chief, can’t you spare even one little itsy-bitsy agent? Just suppose—I realize that it’s pretty unlikely—but just suppose that, by some chance, I should make a mistake on this case? Wouldn’t it be prudent to have someone around to pick up the ball? What with the you-know-what hanging in the you-know-what.”
“Well . . . maybe you’re right, Max. I suppose I could spare Agent 44.”
“44 would be fine, Chief.”
“Who is 44?” Peaches asked.
“Rather than telling you, I’ll show you,” Max said. “Agent 44 is always around somewhere.”
“You might try my safe, Max,” the Chief said.
“Yes.”
Max walked to a wall, and removed a picture that concealed a safe. He dialed the combination, then opened the door of the safe, then stepped back.
A face appeared in the opening. It was a rather sad face.
“Peaches . . . this is Agent 44,” Max said. He turned to the face in the safe. “And, 44, this is Peaches Twelvetrees. Peaches will be accompanying me.”
44 nodded. “Howdy.”
Peaches groaned.
“See you later, 44,” Max said.
“I’ll be around,” 44 replied.
Max closed the safe, spun the dial, then rehung the picture.
“I always feel safe with 44 around,” Max smiled.
“All right, Max, now will you get going?”
“Didn’t you get that, Chief? That was a pun. You see, 44 was behind the safe, and I said, ‘I always feel safe with 44 around.’ ”
“Max, Noman might be closing in on this office right now.”
“I know, Chief. But did you get my pun? It was a play on the word ‘safe,’ you see. I said—”
“Max, are you sure that was 44 behind that safe?”
“Of course. I’d know 44 anywhere.”
“Are you sure, Max, that it wasn’t Noman pretending to be Agent 44?”
Max glanced nervously at the picture that concealed the wall safe. “I think we’d better get out of here,” he said to Peaches, taking her arm and steering her toward the door. “I don’t feel safe here any more.”
“Good running, Max,” the Chief said.
“Thank you, Chief,” Max replied, opening the door.
“And don’t talk to strangers!”
“Chief—don’t treat me like a child.”
“What I mean is, any stranger might be Noman.”
“I’ll remember that, Chief. And I’ll be reporting in—every hour on the hour, more or less.”
Max closed the door, and he and Peaches headed down the corridor.
“How do you know you’ll be able to report in every hour on the hour?” Peaches said. “Suppose you’re not near a phone?”
“I’ll call him on my shoe,” Max explained.
Peaches sagged a little. “I knew this was going to be a day like this,” she said woefully.
“When exactly did you decide that?” Max asked.
“When I first saw you.”
Max smiled. “That’s much better,” he said. “You know, there for a second, back in the Chief’s office, I had the impression that you didn’t care much for me. I’m glad to know that I’ve won you over.”
2.
AS MAX and Peaches continued down the corridor, Max took the Plan from his pocket and began to study it. Then abruptly he said, “Oops, sorry. I’m hogging the Plan. If you’d care to look at it, too, it’s all right if you peek over my shoulder.”
“Thank you,” Peaches said coolly.
“That’s quite all right. There are some occasions—such as floods, hurricanes and when being pursued by the enemy—when etiquette can be ignored.”
“When are we going to get out of here?” Peaches said, eyeing the long length of corridor that lay before them.
“Any—” Max suddenly halted. “Wait a minute. We can’t leave by the main exit. Noman will undoubtedly be waiting for us. We’ll have to go back and leave by the secret exit.”
“Where is that?” Peaches groaned.
“Sorry. I can’t reveal that information. It’s secret.” He signalled. “Follow me.”
They turned and made their way back along the corridor to an elevator.
“What’s so secret about this?” Peaches said, as they got aboard. “It looks like an elevator. It even says ‘elevator’ on the door.”
“The secret is: the ‘up’ button doesn’t work,” Max replied as the door closed. “When you punch the ‘up’ button, all you get is a recorded announcement telling you that you’ve punched the wrong button. And, oh, yes, the whole elevator explodes.”
Max punched the ‘down’ button. And the elevator began a slow descent.
“Down?” Peaches said. “But we were in the basement when we started!”
Max nodded. “Clever, eh? Very few people would get aboard an elevator in the basement and punch the ‘down’ button. That’s why we call it our secret exit. It isn’t very often used.”
“I can imagine. Where will it take us?”
“To the sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-basement.” He looked thoughtful, counting in his mind, then said, “Add one more sub to that.”
Peaches snatched the Plan from his hand. “I’m not even going to talk to you any more,” she said disgustedly. “I’m going to work on this code.”
“Mind if I peek over your shoulder?”
“Yes. But I’m sure that won’t stop you.”
“Anyway, I’m glad to see that you’re speaking to me again,” Max said.
As they sank lower into the earth they studied the words on the sheet of paper.
“Have you noticed,” Max said, “that those first three words are all the names of men?”
“Shhhh! I’m working.”
“There’s ‘Sad Al’ That’s obviously a man named Al. And ‘Astor.’ That’s the last name of a man. John Jacob Astor. Remember him? He was in the fur trade. Which reminds me of a little joke. What kind of a garment is the same as a long walk?”
“Shhhh!”
“No, that’s not the right answer. The right answer is: a fur piece. Get it? A fur piece is a garment. And it’s also a long walk. For instance, if you were to ask a stranger how far it is from Washington, D.C., to New York City, he would reply, ‘It’s a fur piece.’ ”
“Will you please be quiet!”
“Sorry about that.”
Frowning, Max continued to study the words. “Mays,” he said. “That could be Willie Mays. But I’m sure he isn’t mixed up with KAOS.”
“Shhhhh.”
“Anyway, we know there are three men involved. So, what else do we have? ‘Bronco Con.’ Bronco is a horse. And ‘Con’ is short for ‘confidence game.’ In other words,
a phony horse. Or, in still other words, a Trojan horse. Yes, now it’s all coming clear. What we’re looking for is three men in a Trojan horse.”
The elevator came to a halt, and the door slid open.
“All out,” Max announced.
“Where do we go from here?”
“Well, this is a series of tunnels—a little like a maze. If you know your way, it’s very simple to get from here to the secret exit—which is a manhole that opens in a deserted section of the city. However, if you don’t know your way, you could get lost down here and never find your way out.”
Peaches looked at him, fear-stricken. “You’re going to lead us out?”
“That’s right.”
Peaches screamed. “Help! Somebody! Help! We’re lost!”
“If I were thin-skinned, I’d consider that as evidence of a lack of confidence in my ability,” Max said.
“Help!”
At that moment, a man in an usher’s uniform appeared. He was stooped, and had a long white beard. He looked to be about one-hundred-and-ninety.
“At your service, Mr. Smart,” the man creaked.
“Just in time, Willowby,” Max said.
Peaches pointed. “Who’s he?”
“This is Willowby, our head usher,” Max replied. “You see, we were losing so many secret agents down here we had to put in guides. That was years ago. We haven’t lost a secret agent since. That is, none of ours, anyway.” He turned to Willowby. “Isn’t that true?”
“That’s true,” Willowby replied. “And I ought to know—I’ve been down here from the first.”
“All right, Willowby,” Max said, “which way to the secret exit?”
Willowby pointed to the entrance to a tunnel. “That way, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh . . . Mr. Smart,” Willowby said, “one thing. I haven’t been out lately, you know. What’s the news on the outside?”
“World, national or local?”
“Well . . . how is the President doing these days?”
“I’m afraid, Willowby, that he’s having a bit of a hard time with some of the members of the Senate.”
“That’s too bad,” Willowby said. Then he smiled. “But Mr. Lincoln can handle it.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure he can,” Max said. He turned to Peaches. “Shall we flee?”
As they proceeded down the tunnel, Max again put his mind to deciphering the Plan. “So far,” he said, “we have three men in a Trojan horse. Now, the next phrase is ‘Map Change.’ That’s pretty clear. These three men in a Trojan horse intend to change the map. But how would they do it? I suppose they could collect all the maps in the world and draw in false lines. But that would take too long. What’s the next word?”
“Three Bs,” Peaches replied. “And please be quiet.”
“Three Bs. Of course! Three bombs! Three men in a Trojan horse intend to change the map of the world with three bombs! Super-destructive bombs, no doubt.”
Ahead of them, an aged voice called out. “Halt! Who goes there?”
“That would be Ponsenby, the second usher,” Max explained to Peaches.
They approached the man, who, like Willowby, was stooped and had a long white beard. “Oh . . . Mr. Smart,” he said. “Are you lost again?”
“If I were lost, would I be here?” Max replied sharply.
“I thought maybe you bungled into the right tunnel—like the last time.”
“Never mind that,” Max said. “Which way to the secret exit?”
Ponsenby pointed. “Thataway.”
They started to go, then Max stopped and turned back to Ponsenby. “Incidentally, if you’re interested,” he said, “Mr. Lincoln is having trouble with the Senate.”
“Don’t give me that,” Ponsenby said. “Lincoln was assassinated.”
“Oh. How did you hear?”
“Heard it from a fellow who was passing through here. A John Wilkes Booth.”
“Oh . . . yes.”
“Actor fellow,” Ponsenby said. “I asked him to do me some imitations. But he was in too big a hurry. Had to go hide in a barn, he said. Didn’t say why.”
Max saluted. “Keep alert, Ponsenby.”
“Don’t I always?”
Max and Peaches continued along the tunnel.
“Is it much further?” Peaches complained.
“Try not to think about it. Concentrate on the code.”
“How can I with you babbling in my ear?”
“Shh!” Max said. “I’m trying to think.”
Peaches turned her attention back to the Plan.
“Three men in a Trojan horse intend to change the map of the world with three super-destructive bombs,” Max mused. “Now, how could they do that? Simple. By setting off those bombs in the three main capitals of the world, that’s how. A bomb in Moscow. A bomb in Peking, And a bomb in New York.”
“New York isn’t the capital,” Peaches said. “Washington is the capital.”
“Yes, I know, that’s what they think in Washington. But in the eyes of the world, New York is the capital. Blow up Washington, and what do you get? A few politicians. But blow up New York and you destroy the symbol that holds the whole nation together.”
“The Statue of Liberty, you mean.”
“No, the Automat. Where else can you get a piece of apple pie for a nickel? That’s what we’re fighting for, you know. Mom’s apple pie. And the Automat turns out a piece of apple pie that makes Mom’s taste like warmed over glue. Yes, I think I’ve got it. The code is broken. The Plan is revealed. Definitely. Three men in a Trojan horse— Strike that. Make that three men in three Trojan horses. Three men in three Trojan horses will change the map of the world by exploding three super-destructive bombs in the three main capitals of the world—Moscow, Peking and New York.”
“What about the word ‘watch’? You left that out.”
“It’s obvious. Three men in three Trojan horses with three bombs in the three main capitals of the world. That would be something to ‘watch.’ ”
“You’re insane.”
“And you’re jealous—because I broke the code before you did. Nevertheless, since I am in command of this mission, we will assume that my interpretation of the Plan is correct. And we will proceed to the three main capitals of the world.”
“But why?”
“Well, as long as we’re running, we may as well do something constructive. My idea is to go to the three capitals, find the KAOS headquarters in each of those cities, infiltrate the headquarters, and foil the plot.”
“How, exactly?”
“Well, when we get inside the headquarters, we’ll look for a Trojan horse. That’s something that won’t be easy to hide. And, once we find the horses, we’ll take them apart, mane by mane, and hoof by hoof, and sadal by sadal.”
“Sadal by sadal?”
“The code-maker-uppers at KAOS aren’t the only lousy spellers in this world, you know.”
“Just for the sake of intelligent conversation,” Peaches said, “let me tell you what I’m beginning to get from the code.”
“Later. We’re coming to the elevator.”
Peaches looked. “Where does that take us?”
“Up,” Max replied. “It takes us to the manhole in the deserted section of town that is, in fact, a cleverly disguised secret exit.”
They boarded the elevator and Mas punched the ‘up’ button.
“What happens if you punch the ‘down’ button?” Peaches asked.
“You go down, naturally. To the sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-basement.”
“That’s pretty far down.”
“Yes, and very unpleasant. The temperature down there sometimes gets up to 150 degrees. It’s as hot as— Well, as I said, it’s extremely uncomfortable.”
“Will you let me tell you what I’ve deciphered so far?”
“Why not? I’m always willing to listen.”
“Well,” Peaches said, “I’ve been using the Hoppman method. Hoppman was
a sixth-grade math teacher in Framingham, Massachusetts, who stumbled onto the method by accident. He was always confusing the number ‘3’ with the letter ‘B.’ Whenever he saw the number ‘3,’ he would say, ‘Who left the stick off this letter B?’ And, after that, naturally, he evolved his method.”
“That’s a good basis,” Max said. “The same thing used to happen to me. Except that it was with the number ‘1’ and the letter ‘l.’ I could never tell them apart. I used to spell the word ‘sadal’ with a one at the end.”
“Anyway,” Peaches went on, “using the Hoppman method, I gave every phrase the value of six, then multiplied it by itself in series.”
“The value of six? Why is that?”
“Six was the only number that Hoppman didn’t confuse with a letter. So he decided to play it safe and use the number six for everything.”
“Good thinking.”
“So,” Peaches continued, “we get a series of numbers. Six times six is thirty-six. And six times thirty-six is two-hundred-sixteen. And six times two-hundred-sixteen is one-thousand-two-hundred-ninety-six, and so on. Then, we take those numbers and transpose them into letters. Take the number thirty-six, for instance—our first number. It is composed of a three and a six. And the third letter of the alphabet is ‘C’, and the sixth letter is ‘F’. So, thirty-six stands for ‘CF’. Understand?”
“What could be simpler?”
“Fine. So, what we get is: CF BAF ABHF GGGF DFFEF.”
“I see. And now that you have it, how do you pronounce it?”
“Oh, we don’t. We’re just starting. Next, we eliminate all the unnecessary letters. You’ll notice that there are many too many ‘Fs and ‘G’s. So we toss them out. That gives us: CBAABHDE.”
“Excuse me,” Max said, “but we’re coming to the secret exit.”
Peaches looked up, and saw the underside of a manhole cover. “Through there?”
“Right. Through there, and we will find ourselves in a deserted section of the city. There probably won’t be a soul around.”
Peaches shuddered. “It’s creepy.”
“But necessary,” Max said. “It’s the one sure way of eluding Noman.”
The elevator stopped. Max reached up and raised the manhole cover—and found himself face-to-face with a particularly expressionless face.
“Excuse me,” Max apologized. “I thought this was the secret exit.”
Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again! Page 2
