Get Smart 4 - Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets

by William Johnston

  “Ah . . . I think you overlooked something,” Max said. “It’s raw.”

  Dr. Gill laughed. “Who ever heard of cooking seaweed? It would ruin it.”

  “Oh. Well then, if you’ll just give me a fork, I’ll dig right in.”

  “Fork!” Dr. Gill glared. “You don’t fork seaweed! You approach it lying flat on your tummy, flap your fins, and nibble at it! Where did you learn your table manners?”

  After lunch, Dr. Gill took Max and 99 on a tour of the installation. First he showed them the ventilating system.

  “I pump in air from the surface through this pipe,” he explained. “The air then passes through this bubble bath.”

  Max and 99 stared at the glass tank, in which bubbles were bobbing around, obviously circulated by a flow of air.

  “Bubble bath?” 99 said curiously.

  “To purify the air,” Dr. Gill explained. “You can’t imagine how dirty the air is on the surface. Ships use it, birds use it, helicopters use it. It’s full of fumes. Gasoline fumes, atom fumes, feather fumes. Ugh!”

  “What happens to the air after it’s purified?” Max asked.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what kind of bubbles those are?” Dr. Gill countered.

  “No. I can see. They’re soap bubbles.”

  Dr. Gill shook his head, smiling. “They’re plastic bubbles,” he said. “Scientifically, I’m far ahead of the outside world. Outside, they’re still using old-fashioned soap to make bubbles. I’ve already switched to plastic.”

  “Very interesting,” Max admitted. “Now, where does the air go after it has been purified by the plastic bubbles?”

  “It comes out here,” Dr. Gill replied, showing Max and 99 a pipe-like outlet. “It circulates through the installation, then is rejected through the exhaust system.”

  “Well, fine,” Max nodded. “Now what?”

  “My laboratory,” Dr. Gill said, leading them on. “Believe it or not, I am growing a new variety of plants down here. I foresee the day when everybody will live under the seas. And I realize that not all of them will have a taste for seaweed. So . . .”

  He opened a door and ushered them into a large room that looked much like a greenhouse. Plants, in shallow wooden boxes, were growing everywhere.

  Dr. Gill escorted them down the rows. “These are my sea cabbages . . . these are my sea carrots . . . these are my sea spinaches . . . these are my sea peas . . . these are my sea—”

  “Just a second,” Max interrupted, reaching into the satchel. “I think one of your sea peas dropped on the floor.”

  Dr. Gill looked down. “I don’t see it.”

  “Right here,” Max said, reaching down, then rising, holding a pea-like pellet between his fingers.

  Dr. Gill took the pea from him. “Case of weak stem,” he frowned. “I’ll have to look into that.”

  “Maybe you could glue it back onto the plant,” Max suggested.

  Dr. Gill shook his head. “No, it’s useless now.”

  He tossed the pea into the air and it floated out of the room.

  Max and 99 stared.

  “How did it do that?” Max asked.

  “It was caught by the flow of air,” Dr. Gill explained. “As I told you, the air circulates, then is rejected by the exhaust system. Anything as light as a pea, if it isn’t anchored to something heavier, is carried away by the air flow.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  The tour proceeded.

  “These are my sea tomatoes,” Dr. Gill said, pointing. “And these are my sea potatoes . . . and my sea rutabagas . . . and . . .”

  Max dropped a pellet in among the rutabagas. It immediately floated away.

  “Drat!”

  “Pardon?” Dr. Gill said.

  “I said, ‘Drat’s very interesting,’ ” Max replied. “You seem to have rations here to suit anybody’s taste. Which is quite an accomplishment—for sea rations.”

  “Too bad you won’t be around a few months from now,” Dr. Gill said. “I’m cross-breeding some of these plants. I expect to produce sea lettabagas and sea carraches and sea tomapeas and sea spinatoes and all sorts of fascinating varieties.”

  “You intend to release us, then, eh?” Max said.

  “You could call it that,” Dr. Gill smiled. “I’ll call it ‘destroy’. But you can call it ‘release’ if you want to. You are fortunate that you were so impressed by my little garden. Otherwise, I would have destroyed you now. As it is, however, I will keep you around for a while. Later, you will join me at dinner. Then, after that, I will show you my garden again.”

  “I can hardly wait,” Max said.

  With Dr. Gill leading the way once more, they left the laboratory. A few moments later the three reached a cell.

  “In here,” Dr. Gill said, opening the door. “I’ll keep you here until dinnertime.”

  Max and 99 entered the cell, and Dr. Gill closed and locked the door.

  “There is no escape from this cell,” Dr. Gill said. “But, even if you did get out, you couldn’t escape from the installation. The exhaust outlet—the only way out—is located near my office. I would see you. And when I saw you, I would—”

  He pressed the button on the gadget.

  “Max! Air!” 99 gasped.

  “99! Air!” Max choked.

  Dr. Gill pressed the button again. “You get the idea,” he grinned.

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Max told him. “We’re just not the kind who eat and run.”

  Still grinning, Dr. Gill departed.

  “Max! We’re doomed!” 99 wailed.

  “Not quite, 99!” Max replied. “This will come as a surprise to you, but, actually, I was lying when I said that we’re not the type to eat and run.”

  “Max!”

  “Considering the circumstance, I thought a little fib was pardonable,” Max said.

  “I agree, Max. But how are we going to get out of here?”

  “Be a little more specific, 99. Out of the installation or out of the cell?”

  “Both.”

  “Couldn’t you limit it to ‘out of the installation’? I know the answer to that.”

  “But, Max, if we can’t get out of the cell, how can we get out of the installation?”

  “There, 99, I think you have the nub of the problem,” Max replied. “In fact, my guess is that we’re doomed.”

  “Max! The black bag. Maybe there’s something in the bag that will help us.”

  “Well, it’s worth a look,” Max said.

  He opened the bag and began extracting gadgets. “Here’s a collapsible shovel for digging out of a mud slide. And a collapsible compass for finding the side of the tree that the moss grows on. And a collapsible electric saw for sawing through the bars of a cell. And a collapsible—”

  “Max!” 99 broke in. “That’s it—the collapsible saw!”

  Max shook his head. “Collapsible electric saw, 99,” he pointed out. “As you can see, there’s no electrical outlet in this cell.”

  “Oh . . . yes. Too bad. What else is there, Max?”

  “Well, let’s see. Collapsible electric power unit for operating collapsible electric saw for sawing through the bars of a cell if there is no electrical outlet in the cell. Say! that might come in handy!”

  “Max! Quick! Saw through the bars!”

  Max plugged in the saw. Then, “Oh-oh,” he said.

  “What is it, Max?”

  “Unfortunately, this collapsible electric power unit has to be plugged into an electrical outlet.”

  “Oh . . .”

  “Well, I guess R & D can’t be expected to think of everything,” Max said. “At least, they made a try.” He began digging in the black bag again. “Here’s a set of collapsible fins,” he reported. “To be used when invited to a seaweed lunch. That’s thoughtful—but a bit late. And here’s—wait a minute, 99! Here’s exactly what we need—a collapsible battery pack to operate a collapsible electric power unit for operating a collapsible electric saw for sawing t
hrough the bars of a cell when there is no electrical outlet in the cell. R & D does think of everything!”

  “Marvelous, Max!”

  Max plugged the electrical power unit into the battery pack, then plugged the electric saw into the electrical power unit. The motor whirred. But Max simply stared at the saw.

  “Max . . . what is it?” 99 asked.

  “99 . . . you know how the gadgets that R & D dreams up are not always what they appear to be?”

  “Yes, Max . . .”

  “It isn’t a saw, 99. It’s an electric toothbrush.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, still, it’ll come in handy,” Max said. “As I recall, we didn’t brush after lunch.”

  Max went back to the bag. He held up a tiny metal box. “Now, here’s something for the man who has everything,” he said. “A six-ounce container of superactivated rust.”

  “Rust, Max?”

  “Yes, you know—the stuff that eats away iron bars.”

  “Max, if it eats away iron bars, why couldn’t we—”

  “Just a second, 99. I think I’ve just had an idea that may save our lives. If rust eats away iron bars, why can’t we apply this rust to those iron bars? The rust will eat away the iron bars, and we’ll be free!”

  “Max, that’s wonderful! Try it.”

  “I will. Just let me read the instructions. ‘Apply rust to bars. Within a period of three to six years the rust will completely destroy the iron . . .’ 99, I think I better keep looking.”

  “No, Max, read on,” 99 said, looking over his shoulder.

  “All right. ‘In cases of emergency, the rusting process can be hurried by the use of heat. Note: friction creates heat.’ ”

  “Max! We’re saved!”

  “We are?”

  “Max, apply the rust to the bars, then brush the bars with the electric toothbrush. The brushing will cause friction, which will create heat.”

  Max thought a second, then replied, “99, I think I’ve got an idea. Why not apply this rust to the bars, then brush the bars with the electric toothbrush?”

  “How will that help, Max?”

  “Don’t be a needler, 99,” Max replied sourly. “Nobody likes a needler.”

  “Sorry about that, Max.”

  Max applied the rust to the bars, then switched on the electric toothbrush and began brushing the bars. Within minutes the bars had rusted away.

  Max put all the items back into the black bag, then he and 99 stepped from the cell.

  “What now, Max?” 99 asked.

  “To the laboratory,” Max replied. “We still have to plant the explosive.”

  They moved quietly along the corridor until they came to Dr. Gill’s plant laboratory. Then, entering, they made their way along a row.

  “Ah—here’s what I want!” Max said.

  “Max, that’s a tomato plant.”

  Max opened the black bag. “As of now, it is,” he said. “In about a second it will be a cross-breed—a peamato plant.” He straightened, holding a tube. “In this tube,” he explained, “I have cement. I’ll simply glue this pellet—which looks like a pea—to the tomato plant, and when Dr. Gill sees it, he’ll think he has a peamato.”

  “Good thinking, Max. And, of course, he’ll take special care of it.”

  “Yes, until the whole thing blows up in his face,” Max smiled.

  Max glued the pellet to the tomato plant, then put the cement back into the bag, and closed the bag. “Now, to escape from the installation,” he said, leading the way out of the laboratory.

  “How, Max?”

  “Don’t ask questions, 99. I have a theory. But if it were questioned too closely, I’m afraid I might find out that it won’t work.”

  “I won’t say a thing, Max.”

  Stealthily, they made their way along the corridor. Soon they reashed the room that housed the ventilating system.

  “Now, when I say ‘now’,” Max said, “you and I will hold onto the end of this pipe.”

  “This pipe where the air comes out?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t see—”

  “Please, 99, no questions.”

  “All right, Max.”

  Max reached up and turned a small wheel. “Now!” he said.

  He and 99 grabbed hold of the pipe.

  “Max—”

  “That little wheel controls the air pressure,” Max explained. “As you can see, air is now rushing into the tank—right?”

  “Yes, I see, Max. But—”

  “And what happens when you blow a lot of air into a bubble?” Max said.

  “Well . . . it gets larger.”

  “You will note that the bubbles in the tank are growing larger. They are growing so large, in fact, that the tank cannot hold them. So, what will happen?”

  “They’ll burst.”

  Max shook his head. “Soap bubbles would burst,” he said. “But these are plastic bubbles.”

  “Then they’ll—”

  “Right. The bubbles will be pushed out this pipe. When that happens— Ah—here comes one now. You’ll see what will happen.”

  A film of plastic slowly emerged from the end of the pipe. As it did, it enveloped Max and 99, forming a gigantic bubble that enclosed them.

  “Max!” 99 squeaked. “We’re inside the bubble.”

  Max nodded smugly. “That’s my theory,” he said.

  “But, Max—”

  “Please! Don’t question it!”

  The bubble suddenly broke loose from the pipe. And, carried by the air flow, it floated toward the doorway.

  “Now I understand!” 99 said. “We’ll be carried out through the exhaust system in the bubble.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But, Max, there’s one thing I don’t under—”

  “99, no! No, not yet!”

  “All right, Max.”

  As the gigantic bubble floated toward the exhaust system, Dr. Gill suddenly rushed out of his office. He shouted at Max and 99, shaking his fist savagely. But, closed off by the plastic film, they couldn’t hear him.

  Raging, Dr. Gill punched the button on his gadget.

  “Max! Air!” 99 gasped.

  “There’s no need for that, 99,” Max replied calmly. “We have an air supply inside this bubble. Dr. Gill’s control has no effect on it.”

  “Oh,” 99 replied, free of panic.

  “Wave goodbye to Dr. Gill,” Max smiled.

  99 waved.

  Dr. Gill shook his fist again.

  Then the bubble entered the exhaust system, emerged from the installation, and rose toward the surface.

  “Max, that was brilliant,” 99 gushed. “We’re free.”

  “Not quite,” Max pointed out. “We’re still inside the bubble.”

  “Can’t we puncture it?”

  “I’m afraid not, 99. It’s very thick, very durable plastic.”

  The bubble popped to the surface and floated. Overhead Max and 99 could see the helicopter hovering.

  “Max, we’re trapped!” 99 cried.

  “I have one more theory, 99,” Max replied. “Now—ask your question.”

  “My question?”

  “Remember—when I told you my first theory, you had a question about it?”

  “Oh . . . yes. Max, since we’re heavier than the bubble, how will it float in the air? Won’t our weight—”

  The instant the question was out, the bubble burst, dropping Max and 99 into the water.

  “Max! What happened!” 99 cried, floundering in the ocean.

  “Well, my second theory was that my first theory wouldn’t actually work,” Max explained. “You see, that’s what happens when a man has a theory, and his theory is questioned. It’s proved to be wrong—and his bubble bursts.”

  99 shuddered. “Max . . . suppose your first theory had been right!” she said.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Max replied. “In that case, we’d still be trapped down there in the installation. And, wor
se yet, we’d be having seaweed for dinner!”

  The helicopter was hovering directly over them now.

  “I’m throwin’ down the ladder!” Lance Chalfont called.

  “Throw away!” Max replied.

  Lance Chalfont tossed a ladder out the open doorway. It hit the water and immediately sank.

  “There’s a joke on me!” Lance Chalfont hooted. “I shoulda held on to the other end!”

  “Well, live and learn!” Max shouted back. “Try again with something else!”

  “I’ll throw a rope,” Lance Chalfont replied.

  “Throw away! But, first, tie the other end to something!”

  “Gotcha, boy!”

  Lance Chalfont disappeared from the opening for a moment, then reappeared, holding a coil of rope. He tossed it out the doorway.

  Max caught the rope, and pulled, testing his weight against it. The rope gave. A picnic basket came through the opening, fell through the air, struck Max a glancing blow on the head, then disappeared below the surface.

  “Let me guess what you tied the rope to,” Max shouted.

  “Did I do somethin’ wrong, boy?”

  “Get another rope,” Max called. “Tie it to something that’s anchored down. Tie it to a seat!”

  “I’ll tie it to your seat!” Lance Chalfont shouted back. “If I’m gonna lose a seat, I don’t want it to be mine. That’s how us silent birdmen fly, you know, by our seats.”

  “We’re drowning!” Max bellowed. “Hurry!”

  “Gotcha, boy!”

  Lance Chalfont disappeared from sight once more. Then a second later he reappeared and tossed a second rope out the opening.

  Max tested it and found it firm.

  “Lady secret agents first,” Max said, passing the rope to 99.

  Minutes later, they reboarded the helicopter.

  “Get your pea planted?” Lance Chalfont asked.

  “Indeed we did,” Max smiled. “Now, on to the next destination. Which is—” He opened the black satchel and got out a sheaf of papers. “—the KAOS training school in Switzerland,” he announced. “Lance, do you think you can find Switzerland?”

  “Sure. That’s that place with them tall prairies.”

  “Mountains, you mean.”

  “Is that what they’re called? No wonder they didn’t know what I was talkin’ about that day I came draggin’ back to the airport without my airplane! I told ’em I’d hit a tall prairie. They looked at me like I had my ailerons on backwards. I guess we just wasn’t communicatin’.”