Get Smart 6 - And Loving It! Read online

  “Well, renting a white elephant is certainly a novel way of getting away from it all,” Max said. “Frankly, if I wanted to get away from it all, I’d rent the castle instead.”

  The Chief sighed. “99, will you explain it to him,” he said.

  “Max, the castle and the white elephant are one and the same,” 99 said. “The castle is called a white elephant because—” She interrupted herself, looking suddenly puzzled. “Why is it called a white elephant?” she said to the Chief.

  “I think I can answer that,” V. T. Brattleboro offered. “It’s called a white elephant because one day when it was very hot it was looking for a bucket of cold water, intending to cool itself off with it, and, inadvertently, it stuck its trunk into a bucket of white paint instead.”

  “Oh . . . well, that makes sense,” Max said.

  “But that isn’t right,” the Chief said to Brattleboro.

  “Of course not. But it sounded like something he would believe,” Brattleboro replied, indicating Max.

  The Chief put a hand to his head, groaning. “Does anybody remember what I was saying before we got sidetracked by that white elephant?”

  “You were telling us that Lucky Bucky Buckley has taken Guru Optimo to the castle on the island,” 99 replied.

  “Oh . . . yes. Now, we have a special plane standing by at the airport, waiting to take you to the West Coast. And we have a special helicopter standing by on the West Coast, waiting to take you to the island.” He looked at his watch. “You better get going. Are there any questions?”

  Silence.

  “Max, you must have a question,” the Chief said. “You always have a question.”

  Max shook his head. “No questions, Chief.”

  “Don’t you want to ask why the owners of the castle don’t try paint remover if they’re having trouble getting it off their hands?”

  Max’s eyes opened wide. “Did they get the paint on their hands, too? I didn’t know that, Chief. Brattleboro didn’t mention it in his story.”

  “Goodbye and good luck,” the Chief said.

  “So long, Chief,” Max replied. “Don’t stick your trunk in any paint buckets.”

  Max, 99 and Brattleboro headed for the door. But as they reached it, the Chief called, “Max . . . just a minute. I’d like to go over the details of the case with you once more, just to be sure that it’s completely clear in your mind.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Chief.”

  “Nevertheless, Max, I insist,” the Chief said. “99, you and Brattleboro can wait for Max outside.”

  “But, Chief, that’s a waste of precious time,” Max objected. “I understood everything you said—perfectly.”

  “Max!”

  “Chief, have a little faith, will you?”

  “Max, for—!”

  “We’ll go out and hail a cab to take us to the airport, Max,” 99 said. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

  99 and Brattleboro departed, closing the door after them.

  “Chief, that was embarrassing,” Max said. “Do you want that KAOS agent to think that you don’t trust me?”

  “Max, I wanted you to stay because I have something to say to you that I didn’t want Brattleboro to hear.”

  “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so, Chief?”

  “I couldn’t. Brattleboro was— Oh, nevermind. Max, this is what I wanted to tell you. I suspect that Brattleboro has been ordered by his superiors at KAOS to double-cross you and recapture Guru Optimo for them.”

  “But, Chief, we’re working together.”

  “Max, do you really think we can trust those double-dealing dirty rats? They’re dedicated to evil! So, I’m giving you the same order that Brattleboro’s superiors gave him. Do you understand what you’re supposed to do?”

  “The same as Brattleboro.”

  “Right.”

  “You want me to double-cross me and recapture Guru Optimo for KAOS.”

  “No, Max.”

  “Say, Chief, I have an idea. Why don’t I double-cross Brattleboro and recapture Guru Optimo for Control? After all, we had him first.”

  “Great, Max. That’s even better than my idea.”

  “I think so too, Chief. Frankly, turning Guru Optimo over to KAOS didn’t make a lot of sense—at least, from our point of view.”

  “You’ve opened my eyes, Max.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve opened my own eyes too, Chief. I always had great respect for you and your ideas. But that suggestion you made to turn Guru Optimo over to KAOS was a real clunker. Maybe you need a rest.”

  “I think I do, Max,” the Chief agreed. “That’s why I’m sending you to an island.”

  “Oh. All right, Chief. Try to enjoy yourself while I’m out there on that island, not knowing from one minute to the next whether I’m going to live or die.”

  “Max, there’s a lot of truth to that,” the Chief said, suddenly grim. “Not only will you have to contend with Guru Optimo and Lucky Bucky Buckley, but you’ll also have to be on guard constantly against V. T. Brattleboro. You’ll be facing a danger more threatening than you’ve ever faced before.”

  Max’s eyes narrowed. “And . . .”

  “Yes, Max—and what?”

  “. . . and loving it!” he replied.

  2.

  IT WAS late evening when the special plane landed Max, 99 and V. T. Brattleboro on the West Coast. As the Chief had promised, a helicopter was waiting. They boarded it and it immediately took off, headed for the island.

  “You’ll find some survival kits there by your seats,” the helicopter pilot told them. “The kits contain everything you’ll need to survive in the jungle—theoretically, at least. Personally, if I were going to be dropped in a jungle, I’d rather have a good fast getaway car.”

  “Couldn’t you drop us somewhere near the castle?” Max suggested.

  “My orders are to drop you as far away from the castle as possible,” the pilot replied. “I said to them, ‘But they’ll never survive—they’ll be eaten alive by savage jungle animals, or they’ll succumb to thirst or hunger or the unbearable heat.’ But they had an answer for that.”

  “What was it?” 99 inquired.

  “They said I tend to exaggerate.”

  “How far is it to the island?” Max said.

  “About a thousand feet—straight down,” the pilot replied. “We’re over it now.”

  Max looked out the window. “I don’t see a thing.”

  “It’s one of those old-fashioned unlighted jungles,” the pilot explained.

  A few moments later, the helicopter settled down in a small clearing. The pilot switched off the engine, then Max, 99 and V. T. Brattleboro jumped down to the ground, carrying their survival kits.

  “That’s amazing,” Max said to the pilot. “You found this tiny clearing in total darkness! How did you do it?”

  “I have the eyes of a cat,” the pilot replied. “I can see for miles in absolute blackness. Once, for instance, standing in Los Angeles, in the middle of the night, I looked east and saw that the beacon on the Empire State Building in New York was out.”

  “Fantastic!” Max said.

  “At least, I guess it was out. I couldn’t see it, anyway.”

  The pilot started the engine. “Good luck with those survival kits!” he called. “Boy, you’ll sure need it!”

  The helicopter rose, then disappeared into the night.

  Max looked around. “I wonder where we are on the island?” he said. He squinted. “All I can see is what looks like the shapes of a bunch of palm trees.”

  “I hear something,” 99 said.

  “Yes—so do I. It sounds like . . . gurgle, gurgle, gurgle. There must be a stream somewhere nearby. Either that, or—Brattleboro? Are you, by any chance, strangling?”

  There was no reply.

  “Brattleboro!” Max called.

  Again, no answer.

  “99, where is Brattleboro?” Max asked.

  “I don’t know, Max. The last time I saw him was when we jumped down from the plane. He must be—Max, his survival kit is missing too! I think he’s deserted us.”

  “99, that’s ridiculous. We’re working together. He probably just—”

  A shot rang out! A bullet zinged past Max’s ear!

  “Down!” Max shouted, flattening himself against the ground.

  “He’s trying to kill us!” 99 cried.

  “Wouldn’t you know it? Once a KAOS man, always a KAOS man!”

  Another shot rang out. A bullet hit near them.

  “Shoot back, Max!”

  “At what, 99? I don’t have the eyes of a cat.” He raised himself on his elbows, peering into the pitch blackness. “Although, I can see that the beacon on the Empire State Building is out again.”

  “The survival kit, Max—maybe it has a flashlight.”

  Max zipped open his kit. “Yes, I think . . . You’re right, 99. Here’s a flashlight.”

  “Shield the light, Max. Don’t let Brattleboro see it.”

  Max switched on the light, but kept a hand cupped around the beam. “Let’s see, now, what I can find in this kit,” he said. “It seems to contain a number of tiny capsules. Here’s a capsule of scrambled eggs . . . good . . . and a capsule of parsley . . . very good . . . and a capsule of fresh water, thirty-seven gallons . . . excellent . . . and a capsule of . . . ah, here’s what we want, 99—a capsule of collapsible machine gun!”

  “How will that help, Max?”

  “Well, it would be pointless to fire into the darkness with a pistol, when I can’t see Brattleboro. But with a machine gun I can spray the whole area with bullets and perhaps, if luck is with me, hit him by sheer accident.”

  “I suppose it’s worth a try,” 99 said.

  Max broke open the
capsule and a full-size machine gun popped out. Gripping it tautly, he jumped to his feet. “This is it, Brattleboro!” he shouted. He began firing, turning slowly in a circle. Bullets tore into the trees and underbrush. And the trees, sliced away at the base, began falling.

  “Max! Watch out! That tree!”

  He dived out of the way just in time. Then, leaping to his feet again, he began firing once more. To the right, the trees fell! To the left, the trees fell!

  “Max! Stop!” 99 cried. “You’ll get us killed.”

  He lowered the machine gun. “99, you don’t seem to understand. I’m trying to get Brattleboro, not us.”

  “But, Max, you’ve leveled all the trees already!”

  Max looked around. “I guess I have, haven’t I? Well, that takes care of the man from KAOS.”

  “How can you be sure, Max?”

  “99, remember when we first met Brattleboro? He was posing as a painting. This time, unless I miss my guess, he was posing as a tree. And, as you just pointed out, all the trees are now lying flat on the ground. We’re safe!”

  “Max . . .” 99 said, looking worried. “Remember that gurgle, gurgle, gurgle? Listen—”

  Max cocked an ear. “Yes, I see what you mean. It’s become a sort of brogum, brogum, brogum—and much louder.”

  “Flash the light over in that direction, Max.”

  He aimed the beam of the flashlight at the spot that 99 had indicated. They saw that a number of the trees had fallen across a stream.

  “Max—the stream is dammed.”

  “99! Watch your language, please!”

  “No, Max, I mean the trees are stopping the water from flowing along the stream bed. That could be dangerous. It could cause a flood. If the dam breaks, all that water that’s building up behind the trees could—”

  “99,” Max interrupted, “I think you have a tendency to exaggerate. Forget about the stream. Our problem now is to find that castle.”

  “But, Max, listen—Now, the stream is going hargaber, hargaber, hargaber! I’m afraid the—”

  “Forget it, 99! That’s an order!” He picked up the survival kit. “Do you suppose they included a map of the island in here? It would certainly be a help.”

  “Max! Those tree trunks—they’re going skreek, skreek, skreek!”

  “I think that’s what I’d do too, 99, if I were holding back a stream that was going hargaber, hargaber, hargaber.” He took a capsule from the kit. “Ah . . . this is interesting, a capsule of paddles for a collapsible boat. I wonder if—”

  “Max!” 99 said, shuddering, “Those tree trunks are going gramf, gramf, gramf!”

  “Probably a speech impediment,” Max replied. “Yes, here it is,” he said, taking another capsule from the kit. “A capsule for—”

  “Max! The dam is breaking!”

  He looked up. The tree trunks had splintered, and a great wall of water was rushing toward them.

  “Talk about the nick of time,” Max said. “I just found a capsule of collapsible boat to go with that capsule of paddles.”

  Quickly, Max broke the two capsules. A fully-inflated rubber boat and two paddles popped out. He and 99 leaped aboard, grasping the paddles, just as the wall of water reached them. The boat was swept up by a huge wave, and moments later they found themselves bounding downstream, carried along by the irresistible force of the flood.

  “Max! Do something!” 99 squealed, struggling to stay aboard the boat. “We’re going to be carried out to sea!”

  “99, I am doing something—I’m paddling!”

  “It isn’t helping, Max!”

  “I didn’t say I was doing something constructive, I just said I was doing something.”

  The boat was hit by another huge wave. With Max and 99 still clinging to it, it submerged. When it bobbed to the surface again a few seconds later, both Max and 99 were paddling furiously. Then 99 stopped.

  “Max—the island, where is it?” 99 cried.

  “I’m having trouble enough as it is, 99. Let the island find its own boat.”

  “Max, it’s gone. We were swept out to sea!”

  “Good riddance!” Max said. “It was nothing but trouble, anyway.”

  “But, Max, we’re lost! Lost at sea!”

  The boat had stopped pitching and tossing. Max sat up and looked around. “Well, we’re at sea, 99, I’ll go along with you that far,” he said. “But we’re hardly lost. After all, we’re intelligent beings, we can determine direction. And we know that the mainland lies to the east of us and the island lies to the west of us.”

  99 sat up too. “From here, which direction is which, Max?”

  “Offhand, I don’t know. But we can find out easily enough. We know that the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. So all we—”

  “Max, it’s the other way around.”

  “Oh. All right, then, we know that the sun sets in the east and rises in the west. So—”

  “No, Max, when I said the other way around, I meant to transpose east and west, not rises and sets.”

  “Skip it, 99. It’s the middle of the night and the sun isn’t out, anyway.” He looked up into the sky. “Maybe we can use the stars to guide us.”

  99 peered up too. “Wliat are we looking for, Max?”

  “A group of stars in the shape of an arrow that blink on and off and spell out ‘To the Mainland.’ ”

  “To the mainland, Max? We want to get back to the island, don’t we?”

  “99, we wouldn’t survive an hour on that island. We lost our survival kits. Our only chance is to reach the mainland, get new kits, then have that helicopter pilot fly us to the island again.”

  “All right, Max, if you say so. But if the stars won’t point the way, how are we going to find the mainland?”

  “Instinct, 99. How do the birds find the north after they’ve been down south all winter? Instinct, that’s how.” He pointed. “And my instinct tells me that the mainland is thataway.”

  Max and 99 began paddling, steering in the direction that Max’s instinct told him would take them to the mainland. They paddled throughout the rest of the night, and then at the break of dawn they spied a shape on the horizon.

  “The mainland!” Max said exultantly. “Score another victory for instinct!”

  “Max . . . it looks awfully small to be the west coast of the United States.”

  “That’s because we’re still a long distance away, 99.”

  “Then how come our boat is bumping on the beach?”

  Max looked over the side and saw sand. The boat had beached on an island. “Well, at least I’ve learned something today, 99,” he said. “It isn’t instinct that guides those birds back from the South. I think they must follow the railroad tracks.”

  They got out of the boat and pulled it up on dry land.

  “Do you have any idea where we are, Max?” 99 said.

  “On an island—that’s about as far out on a limb as I’m willing to go at this point. Let’s look around.”

  “But, Max, it looks just like that other island we were on—it’s nothing but jungle. We’re really doomed this time, Max. No one will know where to look for us.”

  “There’s a stream over there,” Max said. “Let’s follow it. We may be doomed, as you say, 99, but as long as we keep to the stream, at least we’ll have fresh water.”

  They plunged into the jungle, staying close to the stream. Their clothing snagged on brambles. They had to fight their way past thick, low-hanging vines. But then soon, almost miraculously, they emerged into a small clearing.

  “Look at those trees, 99!” Max said, appalled. “They must have been hit by some terrible disease.”

  “Max . . . I know where we are,” 99 said.

  “Oh? Do you read sick trees, 99? That’s quite a talent.”

  “Max, those trees aren’t sick. They were mowed down by a machine gun.”

  “That’s terrible,” Max said sympathetically. “You can sometimes recover from an illness, but from getting mowed down by a machine gun, never. I wonder who— Oh. I think I’m beginning to see what you mean, 99. What you’re trying to say is that we’re back on the same island that we were washed off of last night.”

  “I’m afraid so, Max,” 99 said gloomily. “All we managed to accomplish during the night was to lose our survival kit and everything that went with it.”