Get Smart 8 - Max Smart Loses Control Read online

  99 went to the door and opened it. The Chief, looking discouraged, re-entered the office, moved back to his desk and sat down. He covered his face with his hands and sighed deeply.

  “How’s the search for Number One coming along?” Max asked interestedly.

  The Chief’s whole body began to tremble, as if he might be crying.

  “Max . . .” 99 said, “wouldn’t it be a nice surprise if we were assigned to find Number One?”

  “That’s a ver-ry good idea, 99,” Max replied. He addressed the Chief. “Why didn’t you think of that, Chief? Does it make sense to keep 99 and Hymie and me sitting around your office, waiting for some second-rate assignment, when the fate of the entire civilized world is threatened? I hate to say it, Chief, but sometimes you give the impression that you’re just not too well organized.”

  The Chief uncovered his face and wiped tears from his cheeks. “May I give you your instructions now, Max?” he asked pleadingly.

  “If you’ve finally got yourself organized . . . yes, go ahead,” Max replied.

  The Chief turned to Hymie. “I want you to be in charge of this case,” he said. “The information—”

  “Now . . . just . . . wait . . . a . . . minute!” Max broke in. “What do you mean, Hymie will be in charge of the case? I happen to be the senior agent, Chief. According to our union contract, the senior agent is always in charge! Besides . . . Hymie is a machine. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my best friends are machines. But a machine takes orders, it doesn’t give orders. Everybody knows that.”

  “Tell us again, Max, how it is that you’re wearing golf knickers,” the Chief said.

  “Because my computer told me— Let me put it another way, Chief. As I pointed out before, my union contract guarantees me that I will be the agent-in-charge when I have seniority. And if I don’t get what’s coming to me, I’ll pull every Control agent within the sound of my voice out on strike!”

  “Max!” the Chief protested. “This is a national emergency! Where is your patriotism?”

  “On my back!” Max replied smuggly. “Who else in this room is wearing a red, white and blue pullover?”

  “But, Max, I’m only taking orders,” the Chief said. ‘The instructions to put Hymie in charge came straight from the top. It was a direct order from HIM!”

  Max’s eyes opened wide. “From HIM?”

  “Uncle HIM,” Hymie corrected.

  “Well . . . if it came from HIM,” Max grumbled. “What HIM wants, HIM gets, I suppose. But I don’t understand his reasoning.”

  “He explained that to me,” the Chief said. “It’s his notion that it takes a machine to catch a machine.”

  “That’s an old wives’ tale,” Max muttered.

  “There’s one other reason,” the Chief said. “It seems that Hymie and Number One used to date.”

  Max turned to Hymie. “Is that true?” he asked.

  The robot nodded. “We were a ‘thing’ for a while,” he replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about it, Max. It was in all the engineering journal gossip columns.”

  “Be that as it may,” the Chief said, “orders are orders, and if HIM wants Hymie to be in charge, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m sorry, Max.”

  Max shrugged. “To me, it’s irrelevant,” he said. “I’m no prima donna. I can take orders just as well as I can give orders. Success is my only concern. As long as the Good Guys win and the Bad Guys lose, I’m satisfied. Let it never be said that Max Smart is a crybaby or a spoilsport.”

  “That’s a wonderful attitude, Max,” the Chief said.

  Max turned his back to him.

  “Max . . .”

  “99,” Max said, “will you please tell the Chief I’m no longer speaking to him.”

  “Oh, Max, don’t be that way,” 99 begged. “It isn’t the Chief’s fault that Hymie is in charge.”

  “He didn’t have to accept HIM’s order,” Max said. “He could have told HIM he’d rather resign than hurt my feelings.”

  “I tried that, Max,” the Chief said. “But HIM told me that if I resigned he’d give my job to Hymie. So, I wouldn’t have gained anything, would I?”

  Max faced him again. “Anyway, it was a good try, Chief,” he said. “And I forgive you. Now . . . what are the instructions?”

  “I have to give the instructions to Hymie, Max, not you.”

  “Couldn’t you give them to me and I could pass them on? You know how busy Hymie is. He has a lot of responsibility, being in charge of an important case like this.”

  The Chief shook his head.

  “Well, then . . . is it all right if I listen when you give Hymie the instructions?”

  “Of course, Max.”

  Max addressed Hymie. “Pay attention,” he said, “I have something I want the Chief to tell you.”

  “Hymie,” the Chief said, “here are your instructions: find Number One and bring her back.”

  “Understood,” Hymie replied.

  “Hymie will need a little more than that, Chief,” Max said. “How, for instance, will he identify Number One?”

  “Hymie knows,” the Chief replied. “He used to date her—remember?”

  “But how will I know?” Max asked. “I’ve never even been introduced to the girl!”

  “You’ll have to get that information from the agent-in-charge, Max.”

  “I will not!” He turned to 99. “You ask him,” he said.

  “Hymie, can you describe Number One for us, please,” she asked.

  The robot responded with a shrill wolf whistle.

  “To you, maybe, but not to me,” Max said. “Be a little more specific. Is she round? Square? What color are her flashing fights? Protruding knobs? How will we know her when we see her?”

  “She’s a flirt, for one thing,” Hymie replied.

  “Maybe I can help, Max,” the Chief said. “I know, for one thing, that she’s square.”

  “Not according to Hymie,” Max said. “The way he describes her, she’s a swinger.”

  “Square,” the Chief insisted, “and about the size of a large refrigerator.”

  “She sounds charming,” Max said.

  “It’s all put-on,” Hymie said. “At heart, she’s as cold as ice.”

  “I’m beginning to get the picture,” Max nodded. “It will be easy to identify her. All we’ll have to do is open her door. If her light goes on—that’s her!”

  “The only information I have on the kidnaping, Hymie,” the Chief said, “is that she was taken away in a truck. It isn’t much, but, at least, it’s better than nothing. It’s your case from here on out. So . . . hop to it.”

  Hymie hippity-hopped toward the door.

  “What baffles me is what a nice girl like Number One ever saw in him,” Max said, shaking his head woefully.

  2.

  FROM CONTROL HEADQUARTERS, Hymie, Max and 99 drove toward the secret installation where Number One had been kept before she was computer-napped.

  “Let’s see . . . I think it’s down this way . . .” Max said, turning the wrong way into a one-way street.

  “It’s the other way,” Hymie said.

  “You may be in charge of this case, but I’m in charge of this car—at least, while I’m driving it,” Max said testily. “And I say it’s this way!”

  99 pointed to a dead end. “Max, the street stops up ahead.”

  “Well . . .” Max said gruffly, “they’ve probably changed the neighborhood since I was here last.” He turned the car around and drove in the other direction. “I don’t know why they don’t put up signs,” he groused. “How is anybody supposed to find a secret installation when they keep its whereabouts a secret!”

  “That’s it,” Hymie pointed. “That little locksmith shop with the sign on the door saying, ‘Out to Latch.’ ”

  Max parked the car, then he and Hymie and 99 entered the shop. They were met by the director of the secret installation.

  “Isn’t this a little d
angerous, leaving your door open like that?” Max said. “It’s no wonder Number One was stolen.”

  “Our lock is broken,” the director explained. “And we can’t find a locksmith to fix it. They’re all so busy. The soonest appointment we could get was for six months from now.”

  “Appointment?” 99 asked.

  “You have to take the lock to them, these days,” the director replied. “They don’t make house calls.”

  “Just show us where Number One was kept when she was abducted, will you, please?” Max said.

  “Max . . .” Hymie complained. “I’m supposed to say that.”

  “Oh . . . yes, sorry.”

  “Are you in charge of this case, Hymie?” the director said. “I’m not surprised. I always say, ‘It takes a machine to catch a machine.’ Well, I don’t have to show you to Number One’s quarters—you’ve spent enough time with her. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to work. We have the design for the new model personal computer on the drawing board. Without Number One around, we have to do our own thinking.”

  “How is it coming?” Max asked.

  “Great . . . great,” the director replied. “We only started yesterday and already we’ve got all our pencils sharpened. Today, we’re working on thumb-tacking the drawing paper to the drawing board. It’s quite a challenge.”

  When the director departed, Hymie led Max and 99 to a rear room. It was furnished with plastic chairs and decorated with pop art posters.

  “You’re right,” Max said to Hymie. “Number One is a bit of a swinger.”

  Hymie nodded. “The last time I saw her, she was talking about becoming a hippie.”

  “Did she?” 99 asked.

  Hymie shook his head. “Her shape was against her. No hips.”

  “What baffles me,” Max said, looking around, “is how our people got her in here, and how those KAOS agents got her out. If she’s as big as the Chief said, she wouldn’t fit through the door.”

  Hymie walked to a pop art poster that looked like a target and pressed a finger to the bull’s eye. The whole wall raised, leaving a large opening. Beyond the opening was the alley.

  Max frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s the way they got her in and out,” he suggested.

  “Here are tire tracks,” Hymie said, stepping out into the alley. “They probably backed the truck up to this secret opening, loaded her aboard, and drove her away. I think we ought to follow these tracks.”

  “Hymie, those tracks are going to disappear,” Max said. “Tires don’t leave tracks on cement. As soon as the truck left the alley, it ceased to leave a trail.”

  “I have extra-sensitive vision, Max,” Hymie replied. “I can see tire tracks even on cement. There are a lot of advantages to being a machine. I have extra-sensitive hearing, too. I can hear a pin drop a mile away.”

  “I’m sure that’s very impressive, Hymie,” Max said. “But it’s not the kind of thing you can build a career on. How many openings are there for pin listeners?”

  “Hymie . . . Max . . .” 99 said. “If we’re going to track that truck, shouldn’t we be doing it? Every second is precious.”

  They returned to the car and, with Max at the wheel, began following the tire tracks. When they left the alley, the tracks disappeared. But Hymie insisted that they were still visible to him, and he gave directions as Max steered the car through the city.

  “I feel very foolish,” Max grumbled. “99 . . . are people staring at us?”

  “Max, they don’t know we’re following invisible tire tracks.”

  “But I know,” Max said. “I thought maybe they could read my expression.”

  On Hymie’s order, Max turned the car into another alley. A moment later, Hymie commanded him to stop.

  “What now?” Max asked.

  “See those other tracks?” Hymie said. “They cross the tracks that we’ve been following. I think Number One was transferred to a different truck.”

  “Nonsense!” Max said. “Why would they do that? They already had Number One in a truck, it would be foolish to waste a lot of time putting her into another truck. Hymie, the city is full of trucks, coming and going. And with all those trucks moving around, a couple of them are bound to cross paths. Let’s stick with the original tracks.”

  “Max, the way I compute it, Number One was transferred to a second truck.”

  “Hymie, believe me, computation is no substitute for experience,” Max said. “My superior knowledge of the way KAOS works tells me that Number One remained aboard the first truck. We’ll drive on, following the tracks we were following in the first place.”

  “Max . . . I’m in charge.”

  “All right, be in charge,” Max said, driving on. “But do it my way.”

  Hymie began giving directions again, and they soon reached the waterfront area. At the end of a pier, the tire tracks stopped.

  “Hymie,” Max said, “did those tire tracks by any chance indicate that we were following a flying truck?”

  The robot shook his head. “I computed it as a plain ’ol ordinary truck, Max.”

  “Then, obviously, Number One was put aboard a barge or a ship at this point,” Max said.

  “I still think she was transferred to another truck back in that other alley,” Hymie insisted.

  “Oh, you do, eh?” Max said smugly. “All right, then, Hymie, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll separate. You can follow your silly hunch, and 99 and I will proceed according to my understanding of the intricate and devious ways of KAOS. In other words, you go back to that alley, and 99 and I will go on from here.”

  “Max, it’s wet out there,” 99 pointed out.

  “Let me handle this, 99. I know what I’m doing.” He turned back to Hymie. “Is that acceptable to you? Are you willing to make a contest of it? Will you pit your intuition against my expertise?”

  “If that’s what you want, Max,” Hymie said sadly.

  “That’s exactly the way I want it,” Max replied. “You go your way, and we’ll go mine.”

  “Max—” 99 began.

  “Don’t say it, 99!” Max warned. “I don’t care what you think, you have a duty to be loyal to me. I’m your own kind.”

  “All right, Max . . . since you put it that way,” 99 sighed.

  “You better get a move on if you’re going to track that other truck, Hymie,” Max said. “Go on—shake a leg.”

  “Right or left, Max?”

  “What I mean is: buzz off!”

  Hymie departed, sounding a great deal like a bumble bee.

  “What now, Max?” 99 asked.

  “My guess is that Number One is out there in the harbor somewhere, 99,” Max replied. “She’s probably aboard a sea-going laboratory that’s disguised as a barge. If I were KAOS, that’s the way I’d do it.”

  99 looked out into the harbor. “Max, there are a lot of barges out there. What are we going to do, go from one to the other?”

  “That would take too much time, 99. We’re going to get a look at them from the air.”

  From the pier, Max and 99 drove to the secret Control airport and signed out a helicopter, then flew back to the harbor area and began examining the barges from the air.

  “There it is!” Max cried victoriously. “See that great big barge with that single crate on its deck! That barge has KAOS written all over it!”

  “That says ‘Miss Madison Avenue,’ Max.”

  “What I mean is, 99, why such a big barge to carry just one crate? And the answer is: below deck, there’s a laboratory, and it’s swarming with KAOS scientists who intend to brainwash Number One. We’re lucky we found her before they could get her uncrated.”

  “Well, maybe, Max,” 99 said doubtfully. “What do we do now? Fly back to the airport and call the Coast Guard and have them board that barge?”

  “99, time is precious—you said that yourself,” Max replied. “I’m going down there and make sure that that’s Number One in that crate, then, when I verify that it is, I�
�ll take over the barge and force the crew to return to the pier.”

  “We could radio to the Coast Guard, Max.”

  “And let them get all the glory? 99, this is very important to me. I have to prove to the Chief that I’m better qualified to handle this case than Hymie is. Do you think I want to play second fiddle to a collection of nuts and bolts and transformers the rest of my life?”

  “All right, Max . . . I understand.”

  99 took over the controls of the helicopter, then descended and hovered over the deck of the barge, and Max lowered himself by a rope. A few moments later, he dropped to the deck.

  From the bridge of the barge came a shout. “Hey, you! What’re you doing there!”

  Max raced along the deck to the crate and put his ear to it. He heard a ticking sound. “Don’t worry, Number One,” he said. This is Max Smart speaking. I’m a Control agent. I’ll have you out of there and back with your pop art posters in no time at all. All I have to do is take command of this barge.”

  “Get away from that crate!” a voice called.

  Turning, Max saw a number of seamen running toward him, led by the barge captain.

  “Very clever—disguising yourselves as a captain and ordinary seamen,” Max replied. “Just what I’d expect.”

  “Will you get away from that crate!” the captain said angrily.

  “In a pig’s eye, I will!” Max snarled.

  “Get ’im!” the captain commanded.

  The seamen rushed at Max. He dropped one with a karate chop, another with a right to the jaw, a third with a left to the belly, and another with a kick to the head. But the fifth seaman tackled him, bringing him down. The others, having recovered, piled on top of Max. He struggled out from beneath them. They jumped up and attacked again. Max dropped three of them with one karate blow. The fourth leaped on his back. Max ducked down, hurling him through the air, and he hit the fifth seaman, knocking him off his feet. But by then the other three had regained their feet and were closing in on Max. He hit them with a body check, upending them again, then ran toward the bridge. As he was climbing a ladder, two of the seamen caught up with him and dragged him down. Max kicked—one fell. He swung a roundhouse—another dropped. Again, Max started up the ladder. But his foot missed the bottom rung, and, losing his balance, he fell backwards and struck his head on the deck. Groggily, Max struggled to his feet. The whole crew was charging at him again. Dizzy, he knew he would not be able to handle them. Making a command decision, deciding that it would be better to destroy Number One than let her remain in the hands of KAOS, he got a grenade from his pocket, pulled the cap, then hurled it in the direction of the crate.