Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again! (5 page)

Max:
Operator, I’m trying to contact the Chief at Control. Would you put me through, please?

Operator:
I can’t remember the number. Is it in the book?

Max:
No, it’s an unlisted number.

Operator:
Well, if it’s top secret and you can’t tell me, and it isn’t in the book, I don’t see how I can help you.

Max:
How would this do? Suppose I write it down for you? Will you promise to destroy it as soon as you’ve read it?

Operator:
Couldn’t I just show it to a few of the girls first? Only my best friends, of course. I don’t think any of them have ever seen a top secret unlisted number.

Max:
All right. But only your trusted friends. Agreed?

Operator:
Girl Scout’s honor.

Max stepped out of the booth and handed his shoe to Peaches. “Hold the phone for me a second, please,” he said.

“Mad!”

Max got a small notepad and a ballpoint pen from his pocket. He pressed the button on the top of the pen—and a small motor began to whir.

“Ooops! Wrong pen!”

“What was that sound?” Peaches asked curiously.

“That was the hair-dryer,” Max replied, putting the pen away and getting out another one.

This time he was successful. He wrote Control’s number on a slip of notepaper, then walked over to one of the operators and handed it to her. A moment later, he returned, retrieved the shoe from Peaches, and stepped back into the booth.

Chief:
Max? Is that you?

Max:
Reporting in, Chief. Peaches and I are on our way to the airport.

Chief:
Where exactly are you, Max?

Max:
In a telephone booth.

Chief:
Max, you’ll never get to the airport in a telephone booth. Better try a cab.

Max:
We tried that, Chief. But the driver turned out to be I. M. Noman. We very nearly lost our lives.

Chief:
Well, I can understand why that would sour you on cabs, Max. But, even so, I don’t think you’ll ever make it to the airport in a telephone booth.

Max:
No, Chief, you don’t understand. We intend to take a cab to the airport. I’m in the telephone booth only so I can report in to you.

Chief:
Why didn’t you call me on your shoe, Max?

Max:
I
am
calling you on my shoe.

Chief:
In a telephone booth?

Max:
Forget it, Chief. I just wanted to tell you that as soon as we get to the airport we’re going to take a plane to New York. Then to Moscow. And then to Peking. I want you to know where we’ll be.

Chief:
Max, is there any reason for going to New York, Moscow and Peking? Or do you just happen to be headed in those three directions?

Max:
It’s a complicated story, Chief. But, to put it briefly, we’re going to New York, Moscow and Peking in order to foil KAOS’s Dooms Day Plan.

Chief:
Then you’ve broken the code!

Max:
That’s still being debated, Chief. I say yes, and Peaches says no.

Chief:
In other words, you
haven’t
broken the code. All right, Max. The important thing is to keep on the move—out of the clutches of Noman. I suppose it won’t do any harm if, while you’re running, you visit New York, Moscow and Peking. Happy landings, Max.

Max:
Thank you, Chief.

Operator:
Happy landings from all the girls here at the Telephone Company, and from Aunt Harriet, too, Maxie.

Max:
So long, Operator. Don’t take any wrong numbers.

Max stepped from the booth and slipped his shoe back onto his foot. “Onward and upward,” he said to Peaches.

She shook her head in dismay. “Mad!”

Max and Peaches left the building. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, a cab pulled up.

“Taxi?” the driver said.

Max looked at him closely. He did not resemble the other cab driver in any way.

“Just a second,” Max said. He drew Peaches aside, and whispered to her. “This may be Noman again,” he said. “Once a cab driver, always a cab driver.”

Peaches looked past Max at the driver. “I don’t think so. The other driver looked like a typical cab driver. This man looks like a stockbroker.”

“But remember—Noman can assume any identity.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Peaches replied worriedly.

“I’ll have to test him,” Max said.

“Test? How?”

“Well, when I applied for a job at Control as a secret agent, I was given an examination. It consisted of a series of multiple-choice questions. The idea was to determine if I was suited for secret agent work.”

“And you flunked?”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. As a matter of fact, I got the highest score in the history of the Department.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true, nevertheless. Although I suppose I should add that I’m the only one in the history of the Department who ever took the examination. After I took it, and passed it, they threw it out. There was some talk that it was undependable. But I suspect that it was jealousy that dictated that opinion.”

“But what good will it do to give the test to that cab driver?” Peaches said.

“Simple. If he passes it, it will mean that he’s well-suited for secret agent work. And that will mean that beneath that disguise he is really I. M. Noman.”

Peaches shrugged. “So try it.”

Max and Peaches returned to the cab. “Driver,” Max said, “this young lady and I
do
intend to engage a cab. But first we’d like to know a little about our driver. Do you have any objections to submitting to a brief examination?”

The driver shook his head. “You got to make a lot of compromises with the Establishment when you’re in the cab driving business,” he said.

“Fine. Now, these are multiple-choice questions. Take your time, think the questions through thoroughly, then give me your answers. Ready?”

“Shoot.”

“All right. Here is question number one: You are a secret agent. You and another secret agent have been captured by the bad guys. The other secret agent has been hung up by his thumbs. The bad guys will release the other secret agent only on the condition that you reveal the whereabouts of your organization’s headquarters. You would do which of the following? Reveal the whereabouts of your organization’s headquarters? Let your friend hang by his thumbs? Engage the bad guys in a game of poker and win their firearms from them? Or send in your resignation as a secret agent?”

The driver thought for a moment, then said, “How good a friend is this friend of mine who’s hanging by his thumbs?”

“A
very
good friend.”

“Is he, maybe, the kind of guy who
likes
to hang by his thumbs?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Not the way I see it,” the driver said. “If he likes to hang by his thumbs, maybe I’d be doing him a favor to let him hang.”

“That’s rather preposterous, driver.”

“I don’t know. Driving a cab, you meet some strange guys. It wouldn’t surprise me to meet some guy that likes to hang by his thumbs.”

“All right. Let’s assume that your friend does
not
like to hang by his thumbs. Now, what’s your answer?”

The driver pondered again. “This game of poker—is that straight poker or deuces wild?”

“What—if you’ll pardon my curiosity—does that have to do with it?”

“I can’t win at straight poker,” the driver replied. “It’s got to be deuces wild.”

“All right—deuces wild. Is that your answer? Would you engage the bad guys in a game of poker—deuces wild—and win their firearms from them?”

The driver scowled. “Let me think about it a minute.”

“Driver, we don’t have all day. We’re fleeing from a master criminal.”

“Suppose I sent in my resignation?” the driver said. “Would I lose my retirement benefits?”

Max opened the rear door of the cab, then turned to Peaches. “Get in. Let’s go,” he said.

“Are you sure he’s not you-know-who?”

“No, I’m not sure. We’ll just have to take a chance. By the time he gets around to answering the question, the real Dooms Day will be here and the examination will have become pointless.”

Peaches got into the rear seat of the taxi. Max followed her in, closed the door, then said to the driver, “Airport, please.”

The driver shrugged and headed the cab into traffic.

“Out of curiosity,” Peaches said to Max, “what
is
the answer to the question?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “That’s the one question on the examination that I missed. I was hoping to find out the answer from the driver.”

“What did
you
answer?”

“I’d rather not say,” Max replied. “But I will tell you this: If I had been in that situation, and I had done what I said I would do on the examination, I would have had a friend with very
long
thumbs.”

Peaches turned away and stared out the cab window.

I
T WAS
not long before they reached the airport. As they left the cab and entered the terminal, Max said to Peaches, “Keep an eye out for Noman. He might be anywhere and anybody.”

“If he might be anybody, how would I know if I saw him?”

“That’s right, I forgot. Not being a secret agent, you don’t have that sixth sense about criminals.”

“You do, I suppose.”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Max replied. “Whenever I get within sensing distance of a bad guy, a bell rings in my mind, and a little sign pops up. The sign says: ‘There’s one, Max!’ ”

“If you expect me to believe—”

Peaches cut the statement short as Max was stopped by a plump man in a checkered suit. The man looked like a typical air terminal tout.

“Hey, uh fella . . .” the man said, glancing about cautiously.

“Yes?” Max replied.

“Interested in a tip on the noon flight to Bermuda?”

“Well . . .”

“Don’t take it,” the man said. “It’ll be cancelled due to engine trouble.”

“I didn’t intend to take it,” Max said. “We’re only interested in New York flights.”

“Then you want the Arr Dee Airline,” the tout said. “It flies only to New York.”

“Arr Dee? What does that stand for?”

“It stands for R. D.”

“Oh. Well, what does R. D. stand for?”

“Ruptured Duck.”

“I see. I don’t think we’re interested in that, either,” Max said. He started to move on.

But the tout caught him by the sleeve. “You’re interested in getting the best deal you can get, aren’t you, fella? To me, you look like a man who is on a limited expense account.”

“Yes, that’s true. What do you have to suggest?”

“Arr Dee Airline has some special flights. If you qualify, there are some price advantages. For instance, if you’re a seventy-year-old midget, and you fly between 10
A.M.
Tuesday and noon on Thursday, wearing a sealskin coat and a patch on your left eye, you can get a tremendous discount”

“That’s interesting. How much would it cost?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. In fact, Arr Dee Airline pays you.”

“It sounds worth looking into,” Max said. “I wonder if it has discounts for secret agents.”

“Secret agents are in the same category as seventy-year-old midgets wearing sealskin coats and eye patches.”

“And how about cryptographers?”

“You may have some trouble there,” the tout replied. “Arr Dee frowns on people who go around taking photographs of graves.”

“We’ll chance it,” Max said. “Which way to Arr Dee?”

“Straight ahead until you hear a ‘sssssst!’ ”

“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Nothing,” the tout said. He hurried on ahead.

“Somehow,” Peaches said, “I don’t trust that man.”

“Nonsense,” Max replied. “Don’t let appearances deceive you. If he weren’t trustworthy, a bell would have gone off in my mind, and a little sign would have popped up. Forward!”

They continued through the crowded terminal, until Peaches suddenly noticed that it was no longer crowded.

“Where are we?” she asked. “We’ve passed all the ticket counters.”

“Arr Dee is probably a little out of the mainstream,” Max said. “Considering the discounts it gives, it probably can’t afford space in the high rent district.”

“Max, I don’t know about this. I think—”

She was interrupted by a sound. “Ssssst!”

They saw a plump man beckoning to them from a half-open doorway. He looked like a typical airline reservations clerk.

“This is it,” Max said. “See there—in fresh paint it says ‘Arr Dee Airline’.”

“That looks suspicious to me. Look—something has been scratched out, and ‘Arr Dee Airline’ is painted over it.”

“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for that,” Max said.

They had reached the clerk.

“Doing some fresh painting, I see,” Max said.

“This is our new office,” the clerk smiled. “We just moved in a few minutes ago. Before, we were up front with all the other airlines. But it got crowded. We like privacy.”

Max turned to Peaches. “I told you there was a logical explanation.”

“Right in here,” the clerk said, opening the door.

They stepped in and found themselves in a room about the size of a janitor’s closet.

“Let’s see now, you’re looking for a deal on a flight to New York,” the clerk said.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know that?”

“I have a sixth sense about people who are headed for New York,” the clerk replied. “When I see one, a bell rings in my mind, and a little sign pops up. It says: ‘There’s one!’ ”

“Well, in this case, your sixth sense is wrong,” Max said. “We’re not one, we’re two. The lady will be accompanying me.”

“I have just the thing for you,” the clerk said. “Two seats on the next Arr Dee flight to New York.”

“That sounds about right,” Max said. “When does it leave?”

“As soon as you get to the plane.”

“That’s convenient,” Max nodded. “And the cost?”

“Seven-thousand dollars,” the clerk replied. “Unless, of course, you happen to be a secret agent. Secret agents travel free.”

“Are we in luck!” Max said. “And how much for the lady?”