Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again! Read online

  Get Smart

  Once Again!

  As long as I keep this plan, the world, as we know it, is safe. But if the plan falls into the clutches of I. M. Noman, we can expect a PRETTY MESSY world in the future.

  The piece of paper Max Smart held looked innocent enough, but hidden somewhere in the list of seven items was the Dooms Day Plan perfected by KAOS. Until the code could be broken and the plot foiled, the entire world trembled on the brink of destruction.

  It was within the power of one man to guard that Plan, crack the code and emerge victorious over the Bad Guys. “It could happen to anybody,” Max had said, but with KAOS’s top agent, I. M. Noman, appearing at every turn in a different identity, Max realized that his assignment was more than routine.

  Through maze-like tunnels, onto planes, trains and boats Max and his assistant rush headlong in their flight from their wily pursuer, only to intercepted when the way looks clear and the riddle begins to unravel. Never before has much depended on Max’s quick thinking, clever scheming and—niceness. All his remarkable skills are put to the test as he defies the one man who can, perhaps, best him. But, knowing those skills need the world worry?

  GET SMART novels

  by William Johnston

  Get Smart!

  Sorry Chief . . .

  Get Smart Once Again!

  Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets

  Missed It By That Much!

  And Loving it!

  Max Smart - The Spy Who Went Out to the Cold

  Max Smart Loses Control

  Max Smart and the Ghastly Ghost Affair

  © 1966 TALENT ASSOCIATES—PARAMOUNT LTD.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THE RIGHT

  TO REPRODUCE IN WHOLE OR IN PART

  IN ANY FORM

  PUBLISHED SIMULTANEOUSLY IN CANADA

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER

  AC66-10336

  A TEMPO BOOKS Original

  TEMPO BOOKS EDITION, 1966

  FIRST PRINTING, April 1966

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  CONTENTS

  GET SMART ONCE AGAIN!

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  GET SMART

  ONCE AGAIN!

  1.

  MAXWELL SMART, a trim, dapper young man known to Control as Agent 86, stepped from his specially-designed automobile, slammed the door, then stuffed his fingers in his ears. A moment later a cannon boomed, a machine gun rattled, dense smoke poured from the car’s exhaust pipe, and both seats shot into the air, then settled back toward earth, carried by parachutes.

  As this happened, Agent 99, an attractive brunette, stepped from Control headquarters. She stared at the car in front of Max’s, through which a cannon ball had passed, and the car in back of Max’s, which was riddled with machine gun bullets.

  “Max! What happened?”

  “My car—it has a bug in it,” Max replied disgustedly. “I was on the way to the exterminator, when—”

  “The exterminator, Max?”

  “To get the bug out.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was on the way to the exterminator,” Max went on, “when I got an urgent call from the Chief. It seems the fate of the entire free world is hanging in the balance again.”

  “I know,” 99 nodded. “I’m sorry I won’t be on this case with you, Max.”

  “Oh? Why not, 99?”

  “Don’t you remember? My vacation starts today.”

  “You’re going on vacation? With the fate of the entire free world hanging in the balance?”

  “I’ve already made reservations, Max.”

  “In that case, I understand.” He saluted. “Have a wonderful time, 99. And, while you’re gone, I’ll be wishing you were here. Incidentally, where are you going?”

  “On a cruise, Max. The ship travels all the way up the exotic east coast of the United States, stopping at ports-of-call so we can observe the natives in their native habitats. It really sounds exciting. We’ll see Maryland hardware merchants selling power lawn mowers in their open-air shops. And New Jersey office workers driving to their jobs on their open-air turnpike. And New York brokers selling stocks beneath the persimmon tree on Wall Street. And New England Yankees selling—”

  “Excuse me, 99. But the Chief is waiting. I’ll hear about your vacation when you get back. Don’t forget to take pictures.”

  “All right. Good-by, Max.”

  “Good-by, 99. And bon voyage.”

  Max entered Control headquarters, made his way through a passage of steel doors, entered a telephone booth, dialed a wrong number, and was dropped through a trap door to headquarters’ main floor, where he continued to the Chief’s office.

  Max rapped on the Chief’s door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Chief—Max. But you’ll have to give me the password before I come in.”

  The Chief’s sigh could be heard through the door. “All right, Max, here’s the password: The big blue bluebottle is burning buns on the bottom of Biscayne Bay.”

  “That’s it, Chief,” Max said. “Now I’ll come in.”

  Max entered the Chief’s office—and was surprised to find that the Chief was not alone. Seated in a chair near his desk was a gorgeous blond.

  “Max,” the Chief said, “this is Peaches Twelvetrees. Peaches is a cryptographer.”

  Max peered at her, steely-eyed. “Aren’t you a little grown up to be photographing graves?” he said.

  Peaches blinked at him, puzzled.

  “Max, not the kind of crypts that are graves,” the Chief said. “A cryptographer breaks codes.”

  “She’s a little grown up for that, too,” Max said. “I have a nephew who breaks kiddie-cars. But he’s only four-and-a-half.”

  “Max, what I’m trying to say is— Let me put it this way. Suppose we intercepted a communication from one KAOS agent to another. But, still supposing, suppose we couldn’t read it because it was in code. We would call in a cryptographer. The cryptographer would decode the code and tell us what the message said.”

  “Do you think we ought to do a thing like that, Chief? Isn’t it against the law to read other people’s mail?”

  “I was just giving you an example, Max.”

  “Oh. Well, in that case, I guess it isn’t illegal.”

  Peaches Twelvetrees spoke to the Chief. “Is this the man I’m to trust my life to?” she asked, distressed.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Twelvetrees,” the Chief replied. “But, you see, here at Control we assign cases by rotation. And Max’s number is up.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said. “And, if I’m with him, I’m afraid my number will be up, too.”

  “Miss Twelvetrees,” the Chief said, “Max is our top agent.”

  “Then Control is in even worse trouble than I am,” she replied.

  “Chief,” Max broke in, “would you mind telling me what’s being discussed? Besides my superior ability, that is.”

  The Chief faced back to Max. “This may be the most important case you’ve ever handled, Max,” he said. “It concerns the Dooms Day Plan.”

  “What exactly is that, Chief?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Hmmmm . . . that does sound important!”

  “What we do know is this,” the Chief went on. “We have learned that a meeting has been called of all of the KAOS top executives.”

  “The brass, eh?”

  “Right, Max. And, at that meeting, the Dooms
Day Plan will be revealed.”

  “Chief, I have an idea.”

  “What, Max?”

  “Why don’t we send someone to the meeting? That way, we’ll find out what the Dooms Day Plan is.”

  “It will be a closed meeting, Max. Only the top executives of KAOS will be allowed to attend.”

  “Drat!”

  “However, Max,” the Chief continued, “as matters stand, the meeting will be a total flop. Because we have acquired the only copy of the Dooms Day Plan.”

  “You mean only one copy was made—and we have it?”

  “That’s right, Max. That shows how important it is—only one copy was made. Fortunately, the file clerk at KAOS headquarters to whom it was given to file was one of our agents—an infiltrator, Unfortunately, though, the plan is in code.” He reached behind him to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper. “Here,” he said, handing the sheet of paper to Max, “would you like to see it?”

  Max stepped back. “Should I, Chief? Isn’t it private?”

  “You won’t be able to read it, Max. As I said, it’s in code, and, so far, we have been unable to decipher it. Go on, read it, and you’ll see for yourself.”

  Max accepted the sheet of paper, and, frowning, read the list of words:

  Sad Al

  Astor

  Mays

  Bronco Con

  Map Change

  Three Bs

  Watch

  “Chief, I think you’re right,” Max said, handing back the sheet of paper.

  “Keep it, Max. I want you to take it with you. And, what do you mean—right about what?”

  “You’re right about it being in code. As it is, it doesn’t make any sense at all. And, uh, what do you mean—take it with me?”

  “I’ll get to that in a second, Max. First, I want to explain Miss Twelvetrees’s part in this mission. Our own cryptographers here at Control have been unable to break the code. Consequently, we have asked Peaches to help us. Peaches is a free-lance cryptographer. In fact, she comes from a distinguished family of free-lance cryptographers.”

  “Perhaps you remember the Little Orphan Annie secret code ring years ago,” Peaches said. “My father broke it.”

  “The ring or the code?” Max asked. “If it was the ring, I can do you one better. I have a four-and-a-half-year-old nephew who breaks whole kiddie-cars.”

  “The code, Max,” the Chief said. “Now, pay attention, will you? The fate of the whole you-know-what is hanging in the you-know-what. It so happens that KAOS has discovered that we have attained possession of the only copy of the Dooms Day Plan. Naturally, KAOS will do everything in its power to get the copy back. It has already dispatched its top agent to retrieve it.”

  Max stiffened. “You mean—”

  “Yes, Max. KAOS’s top agent—I. M. Noman!”

  Peaches sat up, alarmed. “Who is that?”

  “The Chief just explained that,” Max said. “He’s KAOS’s top agent.”

  “Yes, but why are you both so concerned?”

  “Because Noman is our most dangerous adversary,” the Chief explained. “You see, some years ago, by means of plastic surgery, I. M. Noman had himself fitted out with an India rubber face. And now he can assume any identity he chooses.”

  “In other words, he can make himself look like anybody he wants to,” Max said. “In fact, for all we know, you might be Noman.”

  “I doubt that, Max,” the Chief said. “Noman can do wonders with his face, but—” He glanced toward Peaches. “—he couldn’t manage to do that with his body.”

  “I would accept that, Chief,” Max said, “except that, for all I know, you might be Noman, covering up for Peaches, who, in fact, might be Noman, covering up for— No, come to think of it, that’s unlikely, isn’t it?”

  “Unless, of course,” the Chief said, “you happen to be Noman, Max. If you were Noman, you might be trying to confuse us by implying that we were Noman. It would—” He shook his head. “No, for the sake of sanity, let’s assume that none of us is Noman.”

  “That’s a safe assumption,” Max said. “Noman could never infiltrate Control headquarters.”

  “Max, he has already done it. Three of our personnel have been liquidated. And that can mean only one thing—Noman is here!”

  “Gee, that’s too bad, Chief. Who did we lose?”

  “29, 34 and 48½.”

  “48½, Chief?”

  “You knew him as 48, Max. But he was taking his exam for promotion. And he had passed the first half of it. If all had gone well, he would have become 49.” Max shook his head sadly. “Poor 48½. Little did he know that his days were numbered.”

  “If you know that Noman is here, can’t you stop him?” Peaches said. “Call all of your people together, and the odd one will be Noman.”

  “No, the odd one will be 73,” Max said. “73 has two left feet.”

  “You know what I mean, don’t you?” Peaches said to the Chief.

  “I know what you mean,” he replied. “But it wouldn’t work. Noman would simply assume the identity of one of our regular people. He could be anybody.”

  “With the exception of 73,” Max pointed out. “It takes more than a putty face to feign two left feet.”

  “No, our only chance is to remove the Dooms Day Plan from the premises,” the Chief said. “As long as the plan is at headquarters, both the plan and headquarters are in danger.”

  “In other words,” Max said, “we have to get the plan out of headquarters.”

  “Exactly, Max. And that’s where you come in. I want you to take the plan, Max, and run!”

  Max shook his head. “That won’t work, Chief. I wouldn’t get any further than the corner. I get winded quickly.”

  “No, Max. When I say ‘run,’ I don’t mean that literally. What I mean is, I want you to take the plan and leave the building and keep going. Where you go isn’t important. What is important is that you keep moving—and fast, so that Noman will have no chance of catching you.”

  “I see. In other words, you want me to take the plan and run!”

  “Yes, Max, that’s what I had in mind. You will become a fugitive, chased, no doubt, by Noman.”

  “Uh, Chief, will it be all right if I stop by headquarters again around Christmas time? I’d hate to miss the annual office party.”

  “I hope you won’t have to be gone that long, Max. Peaches will accompany you. And, while you’re running, Peaches will attempt to break the code. As soon as she has deciphered the words, and we know the nature of the Dooms Day Plan, then you may return.”

  Max smiled, relieved. “That shouldn’t take too long,” he said. “She’ll have me to help her.” He looked at the sheet of paper. “Let’s see. Sad Al / Astor / Mays / Bronco Con / Map Change / Three Bs / Watch. Now, if we change the letters around—in the phrase ‘Sad Al,’ for instance, we have . . . hmmmm. Well, let’s try another tack. Let’s combine the two words, ‘Sad’ and ‘Al.’ Now, what do we have? Yes, I see—we have ‘Sadal.’ And what is a ‘sadal’? It’s something you put on a horse.” He raised his eyes to the Chief. “I think we’re looking for a horse or a man on horseback or a racetrack.”

  “Max, saddle is spelled s-a-d-d-l-e.”

  “Chief, can we be certain that the people at KAOS who make up the codes are perfect spellers?”

  “Max, leave the cryptography to Peaches, will you? Stick to what you know—running.”

  “Hold it, Chief,” Max said, looking at the sheet of paper again. “You’ll notice that the word ‘Bronco’ also appears in the plan. Since a bronco is a horse, that makes two horses—or, a team of horses. Now, the word ‘team’ suggests pulling together. And if we pull together all of the other words in the plan, what we have is . . . Let’s see . . . Astormaysmapchangethreebswatch. Well, what we have is a mish-mosh. Frankly, I think KAOS’s plan is to confuse us.”

  “Max, please, let Peaches do the decoding.”

  “Obviously, you don’t even know how to begin,” Peac
hes said crisply. “The first step is to transpose the letters into numbers. Then, after that, you transpose the numbers back into letters. That is, of course, if the transposition of letters and numbers is the basis for the code. If it isn’t, then you have to utilize phonetics. And, if that fails, you have to try the Palmerston Method. According to the Palmerston Method, every second letter represents a soliloquy in a Shakespeare play, and every third letter represents a paragraph in a soliloquy—unless, of course, the first letter is a vowel, in which case the second and third letter represent, combined, certain passages from Plato’s Dialogues. The Palmerston Method is rarely used any more, however. More common is the system that utilizes the letters as symbols. An ‘A,’ for instance, might represent an Indian teepee. And a ‘B’ might represent a ship’s mast and two round sails. That is, assuming that the letters are written in upper case. If they are in lower case, that means that the real message is written in invisible ink between the lines of the fake message. Since our plan, however, is written in both upper and lower case, we can assume—although not without taking a chance on being in error—that none of the methods or systems that I have mentioned have been used. That, of course, puts us right back where we started.”

  Max turned to the Chief. “Why don’t we just hold it up to a mirror? Maybe it’s written backwards. That happened once in Dick Tracy.”

  “Max, all I’m interested in doing right now is getting you and Peaches out of here,” the Chief said. “With I. M. Noman on the premises, every minute counts.”

  “All right, Chief,” Max said, folding the piece of paper and tucking it into a pocket, “we’ll be on our way. Who will be assisting me on this case? 99 isn’t available, I know. Will it be Fang and me against KAOS again?”

  “Sorry, Max. Fang isn’t available either. Fang is on special assignment.”

  “Who is Fang?” Peaches asked.

  “A dog,” the Chief replied.