Get Smart 6 - And Loving It! Read online

  AND LOVING IT!

  A wave of the hand, a flash of light and Zop! Agent 32 becomes the New York Public Library . . . a guard becomes a watermelon . . . 99 becomes the Staten Island Ferry!

  Can Max Smart win out against the spectacular spells and nostalgic nuggets of old-movie trivia expert, Guru Optimo?

  Can he outsmart Guru Baby’s talent agent, Lucky Bucky Buckley?

  Will KAOS agent, V. T. Brattleboro, succeed in double-crossing Max and 99?

  Will the Operator come through with the Chief’s unlisted number?

  Will the Chief believe that Max is still alive?

  IS HE?

  Don’t wait to find out.

  Start reading and loving it!

  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

  © 1967 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

  AC67-23785

  A TEMPO BOOKS Original

  TEMPO BOOKS EDITION, 1967

  FIRST PRINTING, September 1967

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  CONTENTS

  AND LOVING IT!

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AND LOVING IT!

  1.

  AS MAX SMART, Agent 86, neared the entrance to Control Headquarters, he observed a tall, attractive, dark-haired female approaching from the opposite direction. He calculated that they would reach the doorway at approximately the same moment.

  Playing it cool, Max pretended to be unaware of the girl. When he reached the doorway he stepped quickly inside and closed the door behind him. Hurrying, he moved down the corridor toward the first set of double iron doors that stood as a barrier between the outside world and the super secret goings-on at Control.

  Behind him, the outer door opened and closed. Obviously, the girl had followed him.

  “Max . . . !” she called.

  He moved faster. The double iron doors opened for him, then clanged closed behind him. Ahead, the second set of double iron doors was in sight.

  But behind him he heard a metallic clang.

  Then the girl’s voice called to him again. “Max . . . wait!”

  She was closer and gaining fast. He heard the click of her heels as she ran after him.

  Realizing now that it was useless to try to escape her, Max halted, then turned and faced her, steely-eyed and granite-jawed.

  “Max, for heaven’s sake,” she said, reaching him. “Why didn’t you wait?”

  “Madam, this is a clear case of mistaken identity,” Max replied coolly. “I am Ronald Fastbender, a plumber’s helper from Bent Fork, Utah, and I have never seen you before in my life.”

  The girl stared at him, baffled. “Max! It’s me. Agent 99.”

  Max glanced about furtively. Then convinced that the conversation was not being monitored, he replied, lowering his voice. “I know who you are, 99. But I can’t let on. I got a call from the Chief a few minutes ago and he told me to report for a top secret assignment—and furthermore he told me not to talk to anyone about it!”

  “But, Max, you could have said hello without telling me about the assignment.”

  “No, I couldn’t, 99. You know what a blabbermouth I am. I can’t help it. I’m proud of being a secret agent. I’m proud of knowing a lot of official secrets that not everybody knows. And I just have to tell somebody about it.”

  “Well, Max,” 99 smiled, “in this case, I think it would have been all right. I got a call from the Chief to report for a top secret assignment too. And I imagine it’s the same top secret assignment.”

  Max beamed. “Wonderful, 99! That solves the problem. Now, I can talk about it.”

  “By the way, Max, what did the Chief tell you about the assignment?”

  “Nothing, 99.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Absolutely nothing. Somehow, 99, I think the Chief has got the notion that I’m a blabbermouth.”

  “I see. Well . . . shall we go, Max? The Chief is probably wondering what’s keeping us.”

  They proceeded, passing through the series of double iron doors, then crowded into the telephone booth at the end of the corridor. Max dialed the secret number. The trapdoor beneath their feet opened and they dropped to the floor below. Getting to their feet, they continued along another corridor and soon reached the Chief’s office.

  Max knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” the Chief’s voice replied.

  “I can’t recall, Chief—is that the password?” Max called in.

  “No, Max. We don’t use a password any more. Some of our agents can’t remember it.”

  Max opened the door and he and 99 entered.

  “If they can’t remember the password, Chief, you ought to give them detention and make them stay after their assignments and write it one-hundred times,” Max said. “That would teach them.”

  “It isn’t important, Max. Now, if you’ll take a seat—you, too, 99—I’ll brief you—”

  “Say, isn’t that a new addition?” Max said, interrupting, pointing to a painting on the wall.

  “Yes, Max. Now—”

  “It’s a life-size painting of HIM, isn’t it, Chief?” Max broke in again. “And very life-like, too. I get the feeling that it could step right out of the frame and shake my hand.”

  “Yes, Max, it’s very life-like. Now—”

  “A marvelous painting,” Max enthused. “No professional artist could have caught his exact likeness like that. Did he paint it HIMself?”

  “Uh . . . no, Max. Max, will you forget about the painting? I’d like to fill you in on the assignment.”

  “Oh . . . sorry, Chief.”

  Max and 99 settled in chairs facing the Chief’s desk and the Chief continued. “Have you ever seen an Indian snake charmer in action?” he said.

  “No, Chief. I’ve never been in Action—wherever that is. I saw one in India once, though. He had this snake in a basket, and when he played a certain tune on his tuba, the snake came coiling up out of the basket and performed a sort of eerie dance, swaying back and forth to the oom-pah-pah oom-pah-pah.”

  “A tuba, Max?” the Chief said dubiously. “Most Indian snake charmers use a pipe.”

  “I think this one was a non-smoker, Chief.”

  “Well, anyway,” the Chief went on, “your assignment concerns an Indian snake charmer who has moved up to charming bigger and better things.”

  “Elephants?” Max guessed.

  “No, Max.”

  “That would have been a little hard to believe,” Max said. “It would be quite a trick getting an elephant into a basket. And getting an elephant to listen to a tuba solo . . . well!”

  “Max, what this Indian snake charmer is now charming is men!” the Chief said.

  “Really? That’s fantastic!”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact—”

  “How does he get them into the basket, Chief?”

  “Max, while you’re forgetting about t
he painting, try to forget about the basket too, will you? Actually, what Guru Optimo does is—”

  “How can I forget the basket, Chief, if you keep mentioning it?”

  “I didn’t mention it.”

  “You just called it by name.”

  “No, Max, Guru Optimo is the name of the Indian snake charmer.”

  “Oh. All right, if you say so, Chief. But it sounds more like the name of a basket to me.”

  “What Guru Optimo does,” the Chief went on, “is hypnotize his victim. With a quick gesture of his hand—which is always accompanied by a sudden flash of light—he can cloud men’s minds and make them think they are anything he wants them to think they are.”

  Max frowned. “I don’t quite get that, Chief.”

  “Well, for instance, do you remember Agent 32? Agent 32 recently tangled with Guru Optimo. And at this moment he is standing at the corner of Forty-Second Street and Fifth Avenue in New York, with a lion on each knee, convinced that he is the New York Public Library!”

  “You mean Guru Optimo hypnotized him into believing that!” 99 said, appalled.

  “Exactly,” the Chief nodded.

  “Are you sure, Chief?” Max said doubtfully. “Are you positive that Agent 32 isn’t faking?”

  “Max, why would anybody want to pretend to be the New York Public Library?”

  “Maybe he’s interested in meeting some pigeons on a personal basis.”

  “I hardly think so.”

  “Then maybe—”

  “Will you let me get on with the briefing, Max?” the Chief said. “The fact is that, in spite of what he did to Agent 32, Guru Optimo is not a bad fellow. He’s a simple peasant—a kind of Indian farm boy. And, being simple, he’s easily talked into things. A few weeks ago, after I heard about his talent for instant hypnotism, I sent Agent 32 to make contact with him. My idea was to get him to use his gift in the service of the Good Guys. To make a long story short, Agent 32 found him, made the offer, and Guru Optimo agreed.”

  “Couldn’t we hear the long story, Chief?” Max said. “Cutting it short like that, you leave out all the thrilling parts.”

  “There isn’t time, Max. Speed is essential. The fate of the entire civilized world depends on the outcome of this mission. Now, as I was saying, Agent 32 made contact with—”

  “You told us that, Chief.”

  “I know. I was just—”

  “I thought you were in such a hurry. If you’re in such a hurry, why are you repeating yourself?”

  “Max, please!”

  “Just trying to help, Chief.”

  “Max, the one way to help me is not to help me. Just keep quiet and listen. Now . . . as Agent 32 was escorting Guru Optimo to the air terminal, where they were to get a plane that would bring them here, a KAOS agent intervened. The KAOS agent talked Guru Optimo into joining the Bad Guys. And, for good measure, he had him use his hypnotic power to make Agent 32 think he was the New York Public Library.”

  “I see. So, now, Guru Optimo is in the clutches of the Bad Guys.”

  “No.”

  “See what happens when you make a long story short, Chief? You leave out the most important part. You forgot to tell us how we got Guru Optimo back.”

  “We didn’t get him back, Max. Let me finish the story. The KAOS agent took Guru Optimo to the air terminal, where he intended to get a plane that would take them to KAOS headquarters. But he made one mistake. He let Guru Optimo out of his sight for a moment. He went to the cigar counter to get a newspaper, and when he returned he found Guru Optimo in conversation with a man who has since been identified as Lucky Bucky Buckley. Buckley is a small-time talent agent, and while the KAOS agent was gone, he talked Guru Optimo into deserting with him.”

  “Chief, didn’t the KAOS agent do anything about it?” 99 said.

  “He tried to. But Guru Optimo, under Lucky Bucky Buckley’s influence, hypnotized him.”

  “What is he now, Chief?” Max asked.

  “He’s the lions on Agent 32’s knees.”

  “Chief, I have a suggestion,” Max said. “Why don’t we just let this Lucky Bucky Buckley keep Guru Optimo? He sounds dangerous to me.”

  “Max! Are you mad?”

  “No, Chief. Did you say something to offend me?”

  “I mean, don’t you realize what could happen? Guru Optimo could hypnotize every single person in the world. Do you know what that would mean?”

  “More New York Public Libraries than we could use?”

  “It means, Max, that whoever controls Guru Optimo controls the fate of mankind!”

  “Well . . . lucky Lucky Bucky Buckley.”

  “And un-lucky us, Max. That’s why speed is so important. We have to regain control of Guru Optimo before civilization, as we know it, is totally disrupted. At this point, we’re not sure how Lucky Bucky Buckley intends to use Guru Optimo. Being a talent agent, he may only want to put him into show business. But we can’t take the chance.”

  “I see. So you want 99 and me to locate Guru Optimo and lure him away from—”

  “Just a minute, Max,” the Chief interrupted. “There’s something more I want to tell you. This mission is going to be a little different than any mission you’ve ever been on before. You and 99 will have an associate. You see, it’s not only Control that’s in danger this time. It’s everyone and everything—and that includes KAOS. So, for this one time—and this one time only—Control and KAOS are joining forces.”

  “Chief, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were telling me that we were going to have a KAOS agent working with us.”

  “That’s right, Max.”

  “Chief! Control and KAOS? That’s like mixing oranges and grapefruit! Do you know what the result will be? Fruit cocktail!”

  The Chief looked uncomfortable. “Max . . . just nevermind.”

  “But, Chief, it’s preposterous! Put Bad Guys and Good Guys together, and do you know what you get? You get G-b-o-a-o-d-d Guys. And just try pronouncing that!”

  “Max,” the Chief said grimly, “will you please not say any more about it. You’ll be sorry.”

  Max shrugged. “Okay, Chief. Mine is not to wonder why, mine is but to go along with any goofy idea the brass cooks up.”

  “Just remember that, Max. Now, the KAOS agent who will be working with you is V. T. Brattleboro. He—”

  “How does he spell that, Chief?”

  “Brattleboro?”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  “B-r-a-t-t-l-e-b-o-r-o.”

  “A great help he’ll be,” Max said derisively. “He doesn’t even know how to spell his own name. It should be b-o-r-o-u-g-h, not b-o-r-o.”

  “Maaaaaaaax!”

  “All right, all right, Chief. I won’t say one more word. You know what’s best. If you think a good guy and a good girl can work together with a bad guy and get anything done, then I agree—you’re out of your mind.”

  “Agree with whom?”

  “With 99. She’s thinking that too.”

  “Max, will you let me tell you about V. T. Brattleboro?” the Chief pleaded. “He was chosen for this assignment because, like Guru Optimo, he, too, is adept at hypnotism. They practice it a little differently, though. Guru Optimo clouds men’s minds and makes them think they’re anything he wants them to think they are. While Brattleboro clouds men’s minds and makes them think he is anything he wants them to think he is. Do you see the difference?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Max, it’s one or the other, either you see or you don’t see.”

  “All right, if I have to make a choice, then it’s no, I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll give you an example,” the Chief said. He turned toward the painting of HIM. “Max . . . 99 . . .” he said, “I would like you to meet V. T. Brattleboro.”

  The painting stepped down from the frame, extending a hand. It no longer looked like HIM. Now, it was shorter, fatter, and wore a derby hat.

  Max stared, flabbergasted. Then slowly he
turned to the Chief. “You mean . . . you mean that, all along, HIM has been a KAOS agent?”

  “No, no, Max,” the Chief replied. “V. T. Brattleboro has simply clouded your mind, making you think that he was the painting of HIM.”

  “Whew!—that’s a relief!” Max said. “Those KAOS agents are—”

  “Max—watch it!” the Chief warned.

  “—are probably very nice fellows, down deep,” Max said.

  “I resent that,” V. T. Brattleboro responded. “If we’re going to work together, Smart, you’ll have to stop calling me names.”

  “I take it back,” Max said contritely. “You’re a double-dealing dirty rat. And, what’s more, your father before you and your grandfather before him were double-dealing dirty rats too. How’s that?”

  “Fine—if you’re sincere,” V. T. Brattleboro replied. “I can’t stand a guy who calls me a rat to my face and then, the minute my back’s turned, tells everybody I’m a nice chap.”

  “You won’t have that trouble with me,” Max assured him.

  “Gentlemen, may I continue the briefing now?” the Chief said.

  “There’s more?” Max said. “Aren’t you the one who’s wasting time now, Chief? Why don’t you turn us loose and let us track that nefarious Guru Optimo and his unscrupulous master Lucky Bucky Buckley, to their lair?”

  “Do you have any idea where their lair is, Max?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I was about to tell you where it is. Do you still think that would be a waste of time?”

  “I’m not sure, Chief. What’s a lair?”

  “In this case, a hiding place. Lucky Bucky Buckley has taken Guru Optimo to an island that is located a few miles off the coast of lower California. The island is approximately ninety-nine per cent jungle and one per cent medieval castle.”

  “A castle, Chief?” 99 said, surprised.

  “Yes. It was built by a Spanish nobleman several centuries ago. The island and the castle are still owned by the nobleman’s family. They—”

  “Chief,” Max said, “did you say several centuries ago? Isn’t his family a little old by now?”

  “Max, these are his descendants. As I was saying, they still own the castle and the island. It’s sort of a white elephant—they can’t find anyone to take it off their hands. So they rent it out to anyone who wants to get away from it all for awhile.”