Get Smart 4 - Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets (7 page)

“Fine,” Max said. “Now that that’s settled, we can get down to business. And the first item on the agenda is a comment you made when we first entered your arsenal. ‘Doomed’ you said, I believe. Was there any particular significance to that statement?”

Dr. Gill smiled sinisterly again. “You are my prisoners,” he replied. “And, in time, after I have toyed with you, I intend—naturally—to destroy you.”

“All right, that explains the comment,” Max said. “Now then, item number two. How do you intend to keep us prisoner? Do you have a band of armed cutthroats to guard us?”

“You will see,” Dr. Gill replied, “that the whole installation, in a sense, is a cell. There is no need for guards. In fact, I am quite alone down here. At least, I was until you arrived.”

“I see,” Max nodded. “Then what is to stop me from hurling myself across the room at you, delivering a karate chop to a sensitive area of your person, rendering you unconscious, binding you, gagging you, then taking you back to Control with me as a prisoner?”

“Your distaste for violence?” Dr. Gill guessed.

Max shook his head. “As much as I dislike violence, I never hesitate to use it when it appears to be the simplest means of making a point.”

“Then perhaps this will stop you,” Dr. Gill smiled, showing Max and 99 a tiny pillbox-size gadget that he held in his hand.

“That’s hard to believe,” Max replied.

“Then I will demonstrate,” Dr. Gill said. Holding up the gadget, he pressed a button on its side.

Nothing appeared to happen.

“Maybe the batteries are low,” Max smiled.

But suddenly 99 clutched her throat. “Max! Air!”

Max responded immediately. He clutched his own throat. “99! Air!”

“Now, you understand,” Dr. Gill said. “I shut off the air supply, which is controlled by this gadget. I am unaffected, however, as you can see. I have a store of air in my lungs that will last me almost indefinitely.”

“I believe!” Max choked.

Dr. Gill pressed the button again. And a moment later Max and 99 were able to breathe once more.

“Is it clear now that you are my prisoners?” Dr. Gill said. “If you make any attempt at violence, or to escape, I will simply press the button, and you will suffocate in seconds.”

“Yes, well, that seems pretty clear,” Max replied. “But it does bring up a question. Why didn’t you destroy us just then?”

Dr. Gill sighed sadly. “The truth is, Max, I am a lonely fish . . . uh, that is, man. I long for companionship. None of the KAOS agents will stay down here with me. I’m not good company, they say.”

“Oh . . . why is that?” Max asked.

Dr. Gill grinned evilly. “I keep shutting off the air supply,” he explained. “It’s a nervous habit.”

“If they were really your friends they would overlook little things like that,” Max said. “I know if you were a Control agent and you invited me to stay down here with you for a while, I certainly wouldn’t crab about a minor inconvenience. Incidentally, have you ever thought of switching your allegiance to Control—where you’d be among true friends?”

“It’s too late,” Dr. Gill replied. “I’m in too deep.”

“I see what you mean,” Max replied.

“Now,” Dr. Gill said, gesturing toward the doorway, “shall we have lunch? And enjoy a little polite conversation?”

“Is there any other choice?” Max asked.

Dr. Gill pressed the button on the gadget.

“Max! Air!” 99 cried.

“99! Air!” Max choked.

Dr. Gill pressed the button again. “Never question my suggestions,” he warned. “It irritates my nervous habit.”

“We’ll try to remember that,” Max panted.

D
R.
G
ILL
led the way out of the compartment. Max and 99 followed him at a short distance.

“Look for a place to plant the explosive,” Max whispered.

“There isn’t any place, Max! These steel walls and this steel floor and this steel ceiling, and no furnishings. He lives like a hermit.”

“Yes, the old crab.”

A few moments later, Dr. Gill ushered them into his kitchen. It was adequately furnished, but, at first glance, there didn’t appear to be a hiding place for the pellet.

“Please be seated,” Dr. Gill said, gesturing toward the table and chairs. “I’ll prepare lunch. Is there, by any chance, anything special you’d like?”

“How about lobster?” Max suggested.

Dr. Gill stiffened and looked at him coldly. “You’re suggesting cannibalism, Mr. Smart!” he snapped. “The lobster is one of my own kind!”

“Sorry about that,” Max replied meekly. “We’ll eat anything you prepare.”

“Good, good. I picked some fresh seaweed this morning,” Dr. Gill said. “It grows wild down here, you know.”

“I don’t blame it,” Max replied. “Trapped in the ocean, I’d probably grow a little wild myself.”

Dr. Gill reached for the gadget he had placed on the counter.

“Ah-ah! Nothing personal!” Max said quickly.

“Careful,” Dr. Gill warned. “I don’t want to have to destroy you at table. It would spoil my lunch.”

“And what kind of a guest would that make me!” Max said.

Dr. Gill brought plates to the table, then returned to the counter. A moment later he came back with a pot. He dipped seaweed from it, using a three-pronged fork, and dropped large portions onto the plates.

“Ah . . . I think you overlooked something,” Max said. “It’s raw.”

Dr. Gill laughed. “Who ever heard of cooking seaweed? It would ruin it.”

“Oh. Well then, if you’ll just give me a fork, I’ll dig right in.”

“Fork!” Dr. Gill glared. “You don’t fork seaweed! You approach it lying flat on your tummy, flap your fins, and nibble at it! Where did you learn your table manners?”

After lunch, Dr. Gill took Max and 99 on a tour of the installation. First he showed them the ventilating system.

“I pump in air from the surface through this pipe,” he explained. “The air then passes through this bubble bath.”

Max and 99 stared at the glass tank, in which bubbles were bobbing around, obviously circulated by a flow of air.

“Bubble bath?” 99 said curiously.

“To purify the air,” Dr. Gill explained. “You can’t imagine how dirty the air is on the surface. Ships use it, birds use it, helicopters use it. It’s full of fumes. Gasoline fumes, atom fumes, feather fumes. Ugh!”

“What happens to the air after it’s purified?” Max asked.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what kind of bubbles those are?” Dr. Gill countered.

“No. I can see. They’re soap bubbles.”

Dr. Gill shook his head, smiling. “They’re plastic bubbles,” he said. “Scientifically, I’m far ahead of the outside world. Outside, they’re still using old-fashioned soap to make bubbles. I’ve already switched to plastic.”

“Very interesting,” Max admitted.
“Now,
where does the air go after it has been purified by the plastic bubbles?”

“It comes out here,” Dr. Gill replied, showing Max and 99 a pipe-like outlet. “It circulates through the installation, then is rejected through the exhaust system.”

“Well, fine,” Max nodded. “Now what?”

“My laboratory,” Dr. Gill said, leading them on. “Believe it or not, I am growing a new variety of plants down here. I foresee the day when everybody will live under the seas. And I realize that not all of them will have a taste for seaweed. So . . .”

He opened a door and ushered them into a large room that looked much like a greenhouse. Plants, in shallow wooden boxes, were growing everywhere.

Dr. Gill escorted them down the rows. “These are my sea cabbages . . . these are my sea carrots . . . these are my sea spinaches . . . these are my sea peas . . . these are my sea—”

“Just a second,” Max interrupted, reaching into the satchel. “I think one of your sea peas dropped on the floor.”

Dr. Gill looked down. “I don’t see it.”

“Right here,” Max said, reaching down, then rising, holding a pea-like pellet between his fingers.

Dr. Gill took the pea from him. “Case of weak stem,” he frowned. “I’ll have to look into that.”

“Maybe you could glue it back onto the plant,” Max suggested.

Dr. Gill shook his head. “No, it’s useless now.”

He tossed the pea into the air and it floated out of the room.

Max and 99 stared.

“How did it do that?” Max asked.

“It was caught by the flow of air,” Dr. Gill explained. “As I told you, the air circulates, then is rejected by the exhaust system. Anything as light as a pea, if it isn’t anchored to something heavier, is carried away by the air flow.”

“Hmmmm.”

The tour proceeded.

“These are my sea tomatoes,” Dr. Gill said, pointing. “And these are my sea potatoes . . . and my sea rutabagas . . . and . . .”

Max dropped a pellet in among the rutabagas. It immediately floated away.

“Drat!”

“Pardon?” Dr. Gill said.

“I said, ‘Drat’s very interesting,’ ” Max replied. “You seem to have rations here to suit anybody’s taste. Which is quite an accomplishment—for sea rations.”

“Too bad you won’t be around a few months from now,” Dr. Gill said. “I’m cross-breeding some of these plants. I expect to produce sea lettabagas and sea carraches and sea tomapeas and sea spinatoes and all sorts of fascinating varieties.”

“You intend to release us, then, eh?” Max said.

“You could call it that,” Dr. Gill smiled. “I’ll call it ‘destroy’. But you can call it ‘release’ if you want to. You are fortunate that you were so impressed by my little garden. Otherwise, I would have destroyed you now. As it is, however, I will keep you around for a while. Later, you will join me at dinner. Then, after that, I will show you my garden again.”

“I can hardly wait,” Max said.

With Dr. Gill leading the way once more, they left the laboratory. A few moments later the three reached a cell.

“In here,” Dr. Gill said, opening the door. “I’ll keep you here until dinnertime.”

Max and 99 entered the cell, and Dr. Gill closed and locked the door.

“There is no escape from this cell,” Dr. Gill said. “But, even if you did get out, you couldn’t escape from the installation. The exhaust outlet—the only way out—is located near my office. I would see you. And when I saw you, I would—”

He pressed the button on the gadget.

“Max! Air!” 99 gasped.

“99! Air!” Max choked.

Dr. Gill pressed the button again. “You get the idea,” he grinned.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Max told him. “We’re just not the kind who eat and run.”

Still grinning, Dr. Gill departed.

“Max! We’re doomed!” 99 wailed.

“Not quite, 99!” Max replied. “This will come as a surprise to you, but, actually, I was lying when I said that we’re not the type to eat and run.”

“Max!”

“Considering the circumstance, I thought a little fib was pardonable,” Max said.

“I agree, Max. But how are we going to get out of here?”

“Be a little more specific, 99. Out of the installation or out of the cell?”

“Both.”

“Couldn’t you limit it to ‘out of the installation’? I know the answer to that.”

“But, Max, if we can’t get out of the cell, how can we get out of the installation?”

“There, 99, I think you have the nub of the problem,” Max replied. “In fact, my guess is that we’re doomed.”

“Max! The black bag. Maybe there’s something in the bag that will help us.”

“Well, it’s worth a look,” Max said.

He opened the bag and began extracting gadgets. “Here’s a collapsible shovel for digging out of a mud slide. And a collapsible compass for finding the side of the tree that the moss grows on. And a collapsible electric saw for sawing through the bars of a cell. And a collapsible—”

“Max!” 99 broke in. “That’s it—the collapsible saw!”

Max shook his head. “Collapsible
electric
saw, 99,” he pointed out. “As you can see, there’s no electrical outlet in this cell.”

“Oh . . . yes. Too bad. What else is there, Max?”

“Well, let’s see. Collapsible electric power unit for operating collapsible electric saw for sawing through the bars of a cell if there is no electrical outlet in the cell. Say! that might come in handy!”

“Max! Quick! Saw through the bars!”

Max plugged in the saw. Then, “Oh-oh,” he said.

“What is it, Max?”

“Unfortunately, this collapsible electric power unit has to be plugged into an electrical outlet.”

“Oh . . .”

“Well, I guess R & D can’t be expected to think of everything,” Max said. “At least, they made a try.” He began digging in the black bag again. “Here’s a set of collapsible fins,” he reported. “To be used when invited to a seaweed lunch. That’s thoughtful—but a bit late. And here’s—wait a minute, 99! Here’s exactly what we need—a collapsible battery pack to operate a collapsible electric power unit for operating a collapsible electric saw for sawing through the bars of a cell when there is no electrical outlet in the cell. R & D
does
think of everything!”

“Marvelous, Max!”

Max plugged the electrical power unit into the battery pack, then plugged the electric saw into the electrical power unit. The motor whirred. But Max simply stared at the saw.

“Max . . . what is it?” 99 asked.

“99 . . . you know how the gadgets that R & D dreams up are not always what they appear to be?”

“Yes, Max . . .”

“It isn’t a saw, 99. It’s an electric toothbrush.”

“Oh.”

“Well, still, it’ll come in handy,” Max said. “As I recall, we didn’t brush after lunch.”

Max went back to the bag. He held up a tiny metal box. “Now, here’s something for the man who has everything,” he said. “A six-ounce container of superactivated rust.”

“Rust, Max?”

“Yes, you know—the stuff that eats away iron bars.”

“Max, if it eats away iron bars, why couldn’t we—”

“Just a second, 99. I think I’ve just had an idea that may save our lives. If rust eats away iron bars, why can’t we apply this rust to those iron bars? The rust will eat away the iron bars, and we’ll be free!”

“Max, that’s wonderful! Try it.”

“I will. Just let me read the instructions. ‘Apply rust to bars. Within a period of three to six years the rust will completely destroy the iron . . .’ 99, I think I better keep looking.”