Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again! (12 page)

Max turned back to Agent 44. “Thanks again,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

Agent 44 disappeared.

Max faced back to Peaches. “Did you notice how I maneuvered Noman into using the window—where I knew 44 would be waiting?” he said. “What was so dumb about that?”

“He’s just dumber than you are,” Peaches grumbled. “He should have been named Nobody.”

“Well, he’s Nowhere now.”

“Want to bet?” Peaches said. “I’ll bet he’s back on the train right now. And I’ll bet he’ll be back here with his gun before you can say ‘Jack Robinson.’ ”

“Jack Robinson!” Max snapped. He looked around. “Ha! He’s not here. You lose.”

“I’ll still bet he’s back on the train.”

“That bet I won’t take,” Max said. “And, just to make sure he won’t find us here when he comes back, I think we’d better go to the lounge car. If we surround ourselves with loungers, he won’t dare try anything.”

Peaches leaped up again, excited. “Isn’t that where the romantic strangers are?”

“There may be one or two,” Max replied. “However, I think you’ll probably find more stationery salesmen than romantic strangers.”

“I’ll chance it,” Peaches said. “Let’s go.”

Peaches led the way this time, and Max had to trot to keep up with her. When they reached the lounge, where a number of passengers were seated in lounge chairs, Peaches rushed forward and addressed the first man she came to.

“Are you a stationery salesman?” she asked.

“No, I’m a traveling salesman,” he replied. “I move around quite a bit.”

“I don’t mean stationary like standing still,” she said, “I mean stationery like writing letters.”

“I write home—to the wife and kiddies,” the man replied.

“Then you’re not a romantic stranger,” Peaches said disappointedly.

At that moment, Max caught up with her. “Try that fellow down there,” he said, pointing.

“Where?”

“At the other end of the car,” Max said. “That pleasingly plump fellow who looks like a typical romantic stranger.”

“Oh, him! Yes, he does look typical,” Peaches said.

She rushed off, headed for the far end of the car, and Max tagged after her.

When she reached the man, Peaches dropped into the vacant seat next to him. The man was reading a newspaper. But Peaches dug him in the ribs with an elbow, then, when he looked up, she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“Hello, there!” the man beamed.

“I don’t speak to strangers,” Peaches replied.

“Oh. I thought that dig in the ribs was an introduction.”

“That was a slip of the elbow—purely unintentional,” Peaches said. “But, if you want to introduce yourself, then we’d be introduced.”

The romantic stranger smiled romantically. “You can just call me The Romantic Stranger,” he said. “Or, TRS, for short.”

At that moment, Max arrived. “Excuse me,” he said to the man. “May I sit on the other side of you? You see, I’m sort of responsible for this young lady.”

“Welcome, welcome,” TRS said.

But Peaches wasn’t exactly pleased. “Max, why don’t you go up to the engine?” she asked. “The engineer may need your help to get the train to New York. He may not know the way.”

“What could I tell him? Except, ‘Follow the tracks.’ ”

“You could run ahead and show him the way,” Peaches said.

Max sat down in the empty seat. “No, I think I’ll just stay here and see what I can do about this code.”

“You have a code?” TRS said. “I suggest that you take a couple aspirins, drink lots of water, and get lots of rest.”

“Code,” Max replied. “Not cold.”

“Oh—code.” TRS seemed interested. “Like secret code?”

“I can’t answer that,” Max replied. “It’s top secret.”

“Just keep it that way,” Peaches said to Max. “We don’t want to hear anything more about it.” She smiled at TRS. “I suppose you have a lot of outrageous lies you’d like to tell me,” she said.

“You mean, things like, ‘You’re gorgeous, you’re beautiful, and we were meant for each other’?”

“No, lies,” she replied. “Things like—”

“The Three Bears have stuffed Goldilocks into a Trojan horse,” Max mused.

“That sounds like a lie to me, all right,” TRS said.

“Max, will you keep out of our conversation!” Peaches complained.

“I didn’t know I was in it,” Max said. “I was simply working on the code.”

“Perhaps I could help you,” TRS said.

“You’re with
me!”
Peaches snapped at him. “Now, tell me some outrageous lies or I’ll—”

“Blow up the world with three bombs planted in a watch,” Max said.

TRS turned to Peaches. “You’d do that?”

“He said that—I didn’t.”

TRS faced back to Max. “You’d do that?”

“Not me,” Max said. “But somebody would.” He showed the Plan to TRS. “See this? This is a Dooms Day Plan. But it’s in code. We won’t know exactly what it means until we break the code.”

TRS started to reach for the Plan. But Peaches reached first and pushed it away. “You don’t want to look at that,” she said. She showed him her list. “Look at this. This is really interesting. See that? Trip to Bermuda. Candlelight. Three coins in the fountain.”

“Yes, I see,” TRS said. “It’s also in code, eh?”

“No, no, these are my romantic things to do.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him again. “But it wouldn’t be much fun doing these things alone. Do you have any suggestions?”

“I do,” Max said. “Do you have a maiden aunt you could take along with you? You’ll need a chaperone.”

“Nobody asked you!”

“If I waited to be asked,” Max replied, “I’d never get to say anything.”

“Speaking of three coins in the fountain,” TRS said, “could I see that Plan again?”

Max looked at him puzzledly. “I don’t get the connection.”

“Plan is the key word,” TRS replied. “If you’re going to throw three—exactly three—coins in the fountain, obviously you’re following some preconceived plan. Otherwise, you might throw one, or six, or ten, or two. Clear?”

Max nodded. He showed the Plan to TRS again.

“Could I hold it in my own hands?” TRS asked.

Max shook his head. “I don’t dare lose it. It’s the only copy in existence.”

“I would be very careful with it.”

Max shook his head again.

“You can hold my list in your hands,” Peaches said to TRS.

“It wouldn’t be the same,” TRS smiled.

Peaches scooched down in her chair, pouting.

“You know,” TRS said to Max, “I just may be able to decode this plan for you. It so happens that I’m a traveling computer salesman. And I happen to have a computer with me.”

Max looked him up and down. “Tiny, isn’t it?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. It’s a miniature computer. But I don’t have it on me. It’s in my compartment.”

Max studied him suspiciously. “A computer salesman, eh? That’s quite a coincidence—since a computer may be just the thing I need to break this code.”

“I think that’s approximately what
I
said.”

“Yes . . . quite a coincidence.” Max looked at him narrowly. “Has your miniature computer had any experience in breaking codes?”

“No. But it performs wonders. I’m sure it would have no trouble with the code.”

“What wonders, for instance?”

“Oh, well, for instance, I suppose you’ve heard about computers that match up men and women, find the perfect mates for them. Well, this computer takes that one step further. It finds the perfect mates for other computers.”

“Hmmmm . . . sort of a computer’s computer, eh?”

“Exactly.”

“That sounds promising,” Max said.

“Promise
me
something,” Peaches said to TRS. “Promise me
anything!”

He ignored her. “Shall we go to my compartment?” he said to Max.

Peaches leaped to her feet. “Is that a promise?”

“Maybe you better wait here,” Max said to her. “If you act like this in a lounge car with a romantic stranger, heaven only knows how you’ll act in a compartment with a romantic computer.”

“There’s no worry,” TRS said. “My computer is all business.”

“In that case,” Max said, rising, “lead the way.”

TRS got to his feet and walked toward the door of the lounge car. Max and Peaches followed closely at his heels.

“Does this computer have a name?” Peaches asked.

“Sam Schwartz,” TRS replied.

“Good gracious! How did that happen?”

“Well, Schwartz is the family name. And he was named after an uncle. Uncle—”

“Sam,” Peaches nodded.

“Correct.”

They reached the door. TRS opened it, and Max and Peaches stepped out into the area between the cars.

“This is far enough,” TRS said, joining them and closing the door behind him.

Max looked around at the small space. “Is this the best compartment you could get?” he said. “You must have an even more limited expense account than I do.”

“This isn’t a compartment, you fool!” TRS snarled. “We’re standing between two cars.”

Max frowned. “What happened to your friendly, helpful attitude?”

TRS pulled a gun. “Guess.”

“Noman!” Peaches shrieked.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Max said. “He may be only an unusually cantankerous computer salesman.”

“No, she’s right,” Noman said. “I’m Noman, all right.”

“I suppose you have some means of identification,” Max said doubtfully.

Noman pressed the gun against Max’s abdomen.

Max nodded. “Yes, you’re Noman, all right. I remember your technique. I sometimes forget a face, but I never forget a technique.”

“Hand over the Plan!” Noman said menacingly.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a nice long list of romantic things to do?” Max replied. “The list doesn’t have to be decoded. Think of all the time you’d save. And time is money. Think of it as a bribe.”

“Hand over the Plan!” Noman said again, this time more menacingly.

“What’s the other choice?” Max asked.

“If you hand over the Plan now,” Noman replied, “I’ll go easy on you. I’ll wait until the train reaches a tunnel, then I’ll shove you out the door.”

“I see—that’s the easy way. Now, what’s the hard way?”

“If you don’t hand over the Plan, I’ll shoot you both and take it anyway.”

“In that case, I think we’ll take the easy way out,” Max said.

“Then hand over the Plan!”

“Not so fast,” Max said. “I’ll hand over the Plan when we reach the tunnel. Strange as it may seem, Noman, I don’t entirely trust you. If I handed you the Plan now, you might not stick around to shove us out the door when we come to the tunnel.”

Noman sighed. “Oh, all right. But your lack of faith in your fellow man is certainly disheartening.”

“When you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you get a lit-tle cynical,” Max replied.

The door of the lounge car opened and the conductor stepped out.

“Excuse me, Conductor,” Max said. “But when do we come to the next tunnel?”

The conductor got out his watch. “Oh, in about—”

“Max! Tell him!” Peaches said.

Max looked at her blankly. “Tell him what?”

“Tell him that You-know-who has a you-know-what!”

“Peaches, you’re not making any sense.”

“Noman! Gun!”

“Oh . . . that.” Max turned back to the conductor. “Conductor, it is my duty as a passenger on this train to tell you that Noman has a gun.”

“Glad to hear it,” the conductor replied. “If there
was
a man on this train with a gun, I’d toss him off.” He moved on. “The next tunnel will be along in about two minutes,” he said, entering the next car. The door closed behind him.

“Well, I tried,” Max said.

“And nicely, too,” Noman said. “My heart was in my mouth. But . . . you failed. So, get ready to jump!”

“Ready?” Max said to Peaches.

“Ready,” she whined.

“Just one other thing—the Plan,” Noman said.

“Oh . . . yes . . . sorry.” Max handed over the Plan. “In times of stress like this,” he apologized, “I sometimes overlook the small details.”

“We’re coming to the tunnel!” Noman warned.

“Will it be dark?” Max asked.

“I hope so,” Noman replied. “I couldn’t stand to see it.”

Ahead, the engine tooted.

“This is it!” Noman said.

They were suddenly plunged into total darkness.

“Now!” Noman cried.

Max and Peaches, hand in hand, jumped!

“We seem to have landed on moving ground,” Max said.

“I have that sensation, too,” Peaches replied.

Then there was light.

Max and Peaches looked around.

“We’re in a box car,” Max said.

“It’s a miracle!” Peaches enthused. “Our train must have been passing a freight train in that tunnel. And when we jumped, we jumped into the open top of this box car.”

“I wonder where it’s headed?” Max said.

“Well, it’s going in the opposite direction from the passenger train. So it must be headed for— Oh, Max, no!”

Max sighed deeply. “Back to Washington!”

“And Noman is headed for New York!”

“Yes,” Max smiled, “but empty-handed.”

“What do you mean?”

“When the lights went out,” Max explained, “I reached out and snatched. And I have here—” He held up a sheet of paper. “I have here—” Looking at the paper, his expression changed, losing its smile. “I have here your list of romantic things to do,” he finished sorrowfully.

“But, Max, you couldn’t have my list.”

“How’s that?”

“Because, well, when I felt someone snatch my list, I snatched back. And I have it right here.” She showed him a sheet of paper.

Max looked at it. His smile returned. “You got the Plan,” he told her.

She shoved the sheet of paper at him. “Take it! Give me my valuable list!”

They exchanged sheets of paper.

“I better report in to the Chief,” Max said. “A lot has happened since we last talked.”

“I wouldn’t tell him where we’re headed, if I were you,” Peaches said. “He’s liable to lose confidence in you.”

“That’s not likely,” Max said, removing his shoe. “The fact that we’re on our way back to where we started is only a minor episode in this broad panorama of intrigue. It could happen to anybody,” he said, dialing.

Operator:
Cut it out, Max. A compartment on a train was hard enough to believe. But a box car?