Get Smart 4 - Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets

by William Johnston

  “That was probably it,” Max nodded.

  “Well, here goes nothin’!” Lance Chalfont beamed, swinging the helicopter in the direction in which he guessed Switzerland might be.

  “Max, shouldn’t you report in?” 99 asked.

  “Good idea, 99.”

  Max took off his shoe, poured ocean water from it, then dialed.

  Operator: Max! Stop it!

  Max (puzzledly): What did I do, Operator?

  Operator: You got water all over me! It came pouring out of my receiver!

  Max: Sorry about that, Operator. Will you connect me with the Chief now, please?

  Operator: This is a $7.95 dress! It’s ruined!

  Max: I’ll buy you a new dress, Operator.

  Operator: With what? You can’t even collect your overtime. They still owe you a $1.74, you know.

  Max: All right, Operator. Put it on the bill—on Control’s bill.

  Chief: I heard that, Max. You’re not authorized to put dresses on the phone bill.

  Max: Then how about this, Chief? The Operator can charge her new dress to our phone bill, and when I get back to Headquarters, you can inform me that charging dresses to the phone bill is not allowed, and that you’re going to take it out of my salary.

  Chief: That may be the solution, Max. Operator, how does that sound to you?

  Operator: I’ll do it. So don’t be surprised when you see a charge for a $20 dress on your phone bill.

  Max: $20 dress, Operator? You said it was a $7.95 dress.

  Operator: $12.05 for mental anguish. I’m sitting here in a wet dress.

  Max: Oh.

  Chief: Do you have anything to report, Max?

  Max: Yes, Chief, I can report that 99 and I have successfully planted the second explosive. And, we are now on our way to the KAOS training school to plant the third explosive. How’s that for action, Chief?

  Chief: Not quite good enough, Max. The KAOS agent has already planted his second and third explosive and is on his way to the fourth installation.

  Max (chagrined): Are you sure, Chief?

  Chief: Well, a KAOS agent was seen slipping away from our undersea weapons arsenal and our training school.

  Max: But are you positive that he’s headed for our fourth installation? Maybe he’ll stop for lunch.

  Chief: That’s possible, Max. Maybe you and 99 can skip lunch, and, in that way, catch up.

  Max: Fine. That fits right in, Chief. It just so happens that Lance Chalfont threw the picnic basket into the ocean, anyway.

  Chief: Good luck, Max!

  Max: Thank you, Chief.

  Operator: And, Max, take care of our shoe. Don’t step on any tall prairies.

  Max hung up.

  6.

  “THAR SHE blows!” Lance Chalfont cried.

  Max and 99 looked out the front window. “Yes, that’s it, that’s the KAOS training school, all right,” Max said.

  Below, situated on a mountain peak, they saw a complex of ivy-covered stone buildings, surrounded by a high stone wall. They could see KAOS student agents moving about on the grounds.

  “Sure surprises me,” Lance Chalfont said. “You take a training school, a fella expects to see a lot of trains. Where you suppose they keep ’em? Downstairs?”

  “I think you’re attaching the wrong meaning to the term ‘train,’ ” Max said. “In this case, train means to instruct. At this school, young men are trained—or instructed—in the methods used by KAOS. When they graduate, they are fully trained KAOS agents. Now, do you understand?”

  “Just about,” Lance Chalfont replied. “There’s just one thing I don’t get. Where do they keep the trains?”

  “Downstairs, I suspect,” Max replied. He turned to 99. “Well, somehow we have to infiltrate that school,” he said, “But, first, we have to get over the wall. And since we left our collapsible pole back there in the desert, we are faced with a bit of a sticky wicket. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Couldn’t Lance Chalfont land us inside?” 99 said.

  “Too noisy,” Max replied. “We would be bound to attract attention.”

  “We could glide in,” Lance Chalfont said. “To glide, what you do is, you just turn off the engine and glide.”

  “That’s an idea,” Max replied. “That would be quiet, anyway.”

  “They don’t call me the silent birdman for nothin’,” Lance Chalfont said.

  Max pointed. “See that clear space behind that large building?” he said to Lance Chalfont. “Could you glide the helicopter down into that space?”

  “Don’t rightly know,” Lance Chalfont replied. “I never glided this crate before. Every time I turned off the engine and tried to glide it just fell right smack-kaboom right out of the sky.”

  “Like a rock?” Max asked.

  “Yup. Just like a wounded rock.”

  “In that case, we better think of something else,” Max said.

  “Max, why don’t we parachute?” 99 said.

  “Wait a minute! I just had an idea!” Max said. “We’ll parachute!”

  “Max—that’s clever!” 99 applauded.

  Max and 99 put on parachutes, then stood in the open doorway.

  “Hover directly over that clear space behind that large building,” Max said to Lance Chalfont. “We don’t want to land among the students. They might suspect something.”

  “I’m hoverin’,” Lance replied.

  “Now!” Max cried.

  Lance Chalfont tipped the helicopter and Max and 99 tumbled out and hurtled toward the ground. A moment later their chutes opened.

  As they floated leisurely downward, side by side, Max opened the black satchel.

  “Let’s see what the old fact sheet has to say,” he said, getting out a sheaf of papers.

  “Max, I don’t think we’re going to land in that clear space,” 99 said, looking down.

  “Oh, we’ll hit it all right,” Max replied, looking at the fact sheet. “Let’s see now . . . it says here that the KAOS training school is operated by The Professor. He—”

  “Professor who, Max?”

  “No, not Professor Who. Just plain ‘The Professor’. He has no last name. According to the fact sheet, The Professor joined the faculty of the school when he was a young man. His name then was The Assistant Professor.”

  “Max . . .”

  “Yes, 99?”

  “Max, maybe his last name is ‘Professor,’ and his first name is ‘The’. Maybe when he was younger he used his middle name, ‘Assistant’. But then when he got the promotion he just dropped the middle name. That would explain—”

  “99—if you don’t mind—”

  “Sorry, Max.”

  “To continue,” Max went on. “Since entering the school as a young man, The Professor has not been off the grounds. As a result, he has no personal knowledge of the changes that have occurred in the outside world. When he is told of those changes, he quite often scoffs. The Professor, in other words, rejects the present, and idolizes the past.”

  “Max . . .”

  “No more silly speculation on The Professor’s last name, 99.”

  “No, Max. I just wanted to tell you that we’re getting close to the ground.”

  Max looked down. “How do you like that!” he said disgustedly. “Somebody moved the school. We’re coming down outside the wall!”

  “I don’t think anybody moved the school, Max. I think—”

  “99, this is no time to argue details. Get ready to land!”

  Max and 99 hit the ground simultaneously. 99 rolled gracefully and came up on her feet and began deflating her parachute, using the shroud lines. Meanwhile, Max rolled gracefully, but a bit too far, and came up standing on his head, after which he landed flat on his back. A second later, his parachute caught up with him and enveloped him. Max struggled to free himself of the yards of nylon cloth. The more he struggled, the more entangled he became.

  “Max . . . are you all right?” 99 called.

  “
I’ll be with you in a second, 99. I’m repacking my chute.”

  “From the inside, Max?”

  “No one likes a needler, 99.”

  “Sorry, Max.”

  A moment later, Max crawled out from under the edge of the parachute. He got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Let that be a lesson to you, 99,” he said. “That was a perfect demonstration of how not to land a parachute. I hope you were paying attention.”

  “I learned a lot, Max,” 99 nodded.

  “Now then, on to the school,” Max said.

  “Which way is it from here, Max? We landed so far away, I can’t see it.”

  Max pointed upward. “It’s right below that helicopter,” he said. “Apparently the wind carried us off course. Shall we go, 99?”

  They struck out through the underbrush, headed in the direction of the school.

  “Max, why don’t we use the road?” 99 asked.

  “A secret agent always approaches the objective through the underbrush, 99. Don’t you ever watch TV?”

  “Max, couldn’t we use the road until we get a little closer? Then we could cut through the underbrush.”

  Max halted and looked thoughtful. “I can’t think of any rule that that would violate,” he said finally. “We’ll do it.”

  When they reached the road, they set out again in the direction of the school, using the hovering helicopter as a marker.

  Max smiled. “Something very funny just occurred to me, 99,” he said.

  “What’s that, Max?”

  “I was just thinking that, although we haven’t even reached the school yet, already we’re drop-outs.”

  “Pardon, Max?”

  “We jumped out of the helicopter in parachutes,” Max explained. “We’re drop-outs.” He chuckled appreciatively.

  “Wouldn’t that make us jump-outs, Max?”

  “99, you don’t understand. It’s a play on words. Parachutes. School. Drop-outs.”

  “But you said yourself that we jumped.”

  “Never mind, 99.”

  Soon the wall appeared. Once more, Max and 99 scrambled into the underbrush.

  “There are guards everywhere,” Max said. “I would say, roughly, that it’s absolutely impossible to get inside the wall.”

  “But, Max, we have to. The fate of Control depends on it.”

  Max sighed. “Well, maybe something will come alone.”

  “Max! Look! That’s it. Those two young men coming along the road.”

  Max looked. “I knew something would come along,” he said. “It always does on TV.”

  “They’re headed for the school, Max. And they’re walking along the road, in plain sight. That must mean that they’re expected, that they won’t have any trouble getting in.”

  Max’s eyes narrowed. “If you’ll look closely, 99,” he said, “you’ll see that those young men are walking along the road in plain sight. I’d go so far as to guess that they’re expected, and won’t have any trouble getting in.”

  “Max, I think you’re right.”

  “What else do I think, 99?”

  “Max, I think you think that if we waylay them we can take their places and get inside the wall without any trouble!”

  “99, I think what you think I think is right.”

  As the two young men neared, Max and 99 pulled their pistols, then stepped out of the underbrush and confronted them.

  “Greetings,” Max said. “On your way to the KAOS training school, are you, young men?”

  The two young men exchanged glances. Then the tall one replied, “Are you the welcoming committee?”

  “You might say that,” Max nodded. “Now, if you’ll just step into the underbrush . . .”

  “Is it some kind of a fraternity initiation?” the shorter of the two young men asked.

  “You might say that, too,” Max replied.

  “You’re probably going to bind us and gag us and leave us out here in the underbrush,” the taller young man smiled. “That way, we’ll be late reporting to the school and we’ll be punished severely by the school authorities.”

  “Yes, you might say—”

  “Great gag on us!” the smaller of the young men guffawed.

  “It is pretty funny,” Max smiled. “Now, will you step into the underbrush, please?”

  Eagerly, the young men plunged into the underbrush.

  “Bind and gag me first,” the taller of the young men said. “I’m taller than he is.”

  “No, me first!” the shorter of the young men said. “He may be taller than I am, but I’m shorter than he is,”

  “Now, now, let’s be fair about this,” Max said. “We’ll bind you and gag you both at the same time. I’ll bind and gag you,” he said to the tall one. “And, my cohort here will bind and gag you,” he said to the short one.

  “Couldn’t it be the other way around?” the tall one said. “She looks like a faster binder and gagger than you.”

  “Now look,” Max said irritably, “if we’re going to have a lot of bickering about this, we’ll just call the whole thing off.”

  The two young men immediately fell silent.

  Max and 99 bound and gagged them, then took their identification papers.

  “According to this I.D.,” Max said, “I am now Ronald J. Macy, VII. Who are you, 99?”

  “Arbuthnot L. Gimbel, Max.”

  “Hmmm . . . no wonder they didn’t get along too well.”

  Max and 99 returned to the road, leaving the two young men in the underbrush, and approached the gate. A guard raised his musket and ordered them to halt.

  “Musket?” Max said.

  “The Professor keeps us armed with the latest weapons,” the guard explained, examining Max’s and 99’s identification papers. “Next week we’re getting Bowie knives.”

  “Are the papers all in order?” Max asked.

  “They look fine,” the guard replied. “Except on this Gimbel, the sex is marked as ‘male’. That couldn’t be right. Could it?” he said to 99.

  “Heavens, no,” 99 said.

  “I didn’t think so,” the guard said. “You better have that changed.”

  “It’s too late,” 99 replied. “I’ve been a female all my life.”

  “He means have the identification paper changed,” Max said.

  “No, that wasn’t what I meant,” the guard said. “But that’s probably a better idea than what I had in mind.” He handed the identification papers back to Max and 99. “Pass Macy and Gimbel,” he said.

  Max and 99 entered the school grounds. Instantly, they were set upon by a dozen or more young men who were wearing red and white striped jackets. In the lapels of the jackets were round metal buttons that identified the young men as “Senior” students.

  “You two are freshmen, aren’t you?” the leader of the seniors asked.

  “That’s right. This is our first day at the school,” Max replied.

  “Then you better start out right, obeying the rules,” the leader said. “The first rule is: Whenever you see a senior, snap to attention and turn your pockets inside-out.”

  “That’s an excellent rule,” Max said. “I’m sure it’s based on careful consideration and sound judgment—even if it does sound a little idiotic.”

  “Actually, it’s very sensible,” the leader said. “When you turn your pockets inside-out, all the money falls on the ground. We pick it up. That’s the way we support the Senior Fun.”

  “Senior Fund, you mean,” Max corrected. “Like the Community Fund . . . a charity.”

  “Not exactly,” the leader said. “The Senior Fun is used to finance the seniors when they go into town for a little fun.” He held out a hand. “Cough up.”

  Max reached into his pocket, got out a dollar, and dropped it into the hand.

  99 did the same.

  “Carry on!” the leader commanded.

  Max and 99 proceeded, heading toward what looked like the administration building.

  “Now then,” Max said
, “all we have to do is find some place to plant the explosive, then we can turn around and march right back out the gate.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be any place handy, Max.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find—”

  A second group of young men came pouring out of the administration building. They were led by a young man with a crew-cut and an exceptionally serious-looking expression. Suddenly spotting Max and 99 he halted the group, then approached them.

  “I’m Frank Sadwell,” he said, glowering. “I’m the senior freshman. Aren’t you two freshmen, too?”

  Max introduced himself and 99 using their assumed names. “We were just on the way to the administration building to plant a . . . that is, to register,” Max said.

  “You can do that later,” Sadwell snapped. “Right now, all freshmen are due at the auditorium. We’re to hear The Professor’s welcoming address.”

  “Yes, that’s what I said, we were on our way to the auditorium to hear The Professor’s welcoming address,” Max said.

  “Fall in!” Frank Sadwell barked.

  Max and 99 joined the group, then Sadwell marched it off toward the auditorium.

  “We’ll probably find some place along the way to plant the explosive,” Max said to 99.

  “Careful, Max. That Frank Sadwell is watching you. I think he’s suspicious.”

  “Impossible,” Max said. “Our cover identities are perfect.”

  Sadwell dropped back to the rear of the formation, alongside Max and 99. “Have we met before?” he said suspiciously to Max. “You look familiar to me.”

  “Do you spend much time in Miami Beach?” Max asked.

  “Never been there.”

  “Then maybe that’s it,” Max said. “I haven’t either.”

  “It’s your face,” Sadwell said, his eyes narrowing. “Somewhere, I’ve seen it before.”

  “It must have been right where it is now,” Max replied. “It doesn’t move around much.”

  “A picture. I think I’ve seen a picture of you.”

  “In my high school class year book, maybe?”

  “I don’t read year books,” Sadwell replied curtly. “My reading is limited to ‘Wanted’ posters. I try to keep up on the identities of all the Control agents. That’s how I got into this school. I got a scholarship for superior ‘Wanted’ poster knowledge.”