Get Smart 4 - Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets (9 page)

“Professor who, Max?”

“No, not Professor Who. Just plain ‘The Professor’. He has no last name. According to the fact sheet, The Professor joined the faculty of the school when he was a young man. His name then was The Assistant Professor.”

“Max . . .”

“Yes, 99?”

“Max, maybe his last name is ‘Professor,’ and his first name is ‘The’. Maybe when he was younger he used his middle name, ‘Assistant’. But then when he got the promotion he just dropped the middle name. That would explain—”

“99—if you don’t mind—”

“Sorry, Max.”

“To continue,” Max went on. “Since entering the school as a young man, The Professor has not been off the grounds. As a result, he has no personal knowledge of the changes that have occurred in the outside world. When he is told of those changes, he quite often scoffs. The Professor, in other words, rejects the present, and idolizes the past.”

“Max . . .”

“No more silly speculation on The Professor’s last name, 99.”

“No, Max. I just wanted to tell you that we’re getting close to the ground.”

Max looked down. “How do you like that!” he said disgustedly. “Somebody moved the school. We’re coming down outside the wall!”

“I don’t think anybody moved the school, Max. I think—”

“99, this is no time to argue details. Get ready to land!”

Max and 99 hit the ground simultaneously. 99 rolled gracefully and came up on her feet and began deflating her parachute, using the shroud lines. Meanwhile, Max rolled gracefully, but a bit too far, and came up standing on his head, after which he landed flat on his back. A second later, his parachute caught up with him and enveloped him. Max struggled to free himself of the yards of nylon cloth. The more he struggled, the more entangled he became.

“Max . . . are you all right?” 99 called.

“I’ll be with you in a second, 99. I’m repacking my chute.”

“From the inside, Max?”

“No one likes a needler, 99.”

“Sorry, Max.”

A moment later, Max crawled out from under the edge of the parachute. He got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Let that be a lesson to you, 99,” he said. “That was a perfect demonstration of how not to land a parachute. I hope you were paying attention.”

“I learned a lot, Max,” 99 nodded.

“Now then, on to the school,” Max said.

“Which way is it from here, Max? We landed so far away, I can’t see it.”

Max pointed upward. “It’s right below that helicopter,” he said. “Apparently the wind carried us off course. Shall we go, 99?”

They struck out through the underbrush, headed in the direction of the school.

“Max, why don’t we use the road?” 99 asked.

“A secret agent always approaches the objective through the underbrush, 99. Don’t you ever watch TV?”

“Max, couldn’t we use the road until we get a little closer?
Then
we could cut through the underbrush.”

Max halted and looked thoughtful. “I can’t think of any rule that that would violate,” he said finally. “We’ll do it.”

When they reached the road, they set out again in the direction of the school, using the hovering helicopter as a marker.

Max smiled. “Something very funny just occurred to me, 99,” he said.

“What’s that, Max?”

“I was just thinking that, although we haven’t even reached the school yet, already we’re drop-outs.”

“Pardon, Max?”

“We jumped out of the helicopter in parachutes,” Max explained. “We’re drop-outs.” He chuckled appreciatively.

“Wouldn’t that make us jump-outs, Max?”

“99, you don’t understand. It’s a play on words. Parachutes. School. Drop-outs.”

“But you said yourself that we jumped.”

“Never mind, 99.”

Soon the wall appeared. Once more, Max and 99 scrambled into the underbrush.

“There are guards everywhere,” Max said. “I would say, roughly, that it’s absolutely impossible to get inside the wall.”

“But, Max, we have to. The fate of Control depends on it.”

Max sighed. “Well, maybe something will come alone.”

“Max! Look! That’s it. Those two young men coming along the road.”

Max looked. “I knew something would come along,” he said. “It always does on TV.”

“They’re headed for the school, Max. And they’re walking along the road, in plain sight. That must mean that they’re expected, that they won’t have any trouble getting in.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “If you’ll look closely, 99,” he said, “you’ll see that those young men are walking along the road in plain sight. I’d go so far as to guess that they’re expected, and won’t have any trouble getting in.”

“Max, I think you’re right.”

“What else do I think, 99?”

“Max, I think you think that if we waylay them we can take their places and get inside the wall without any trouble!”

“99, I think what you think I think is right.”

As the two young men neared, Max and 99 pulled their pistols, then stepped out of the underbrush and confronted them.

“Greetings,” Max said. “On your way to the KAOS training school, are you, young men?”

The two young men exchanged glances. Then the tall one replied, “Are you the welcoming committee?”

“You might say that,” Max nodded. “Now, if you’ll just step into the underbrush . . .”

“Is it some kind of a fraternity initiation?” the shorter of the two young men asked.

“You might say that, too,” Max replied.

“You’re probably going to bind us and gag us and leave us out here in the underbrush,” the taller young man smiled. “That way, we’ll be late reporting to the school and we’ll be punished severely by the school authorities.”

“Yes, you might say—”

“Great gag on us!” the smaller of the young men guffawed.

“It
is
pretty funny,” Max smiled. “Now, will you step into the underbrush, please?”

Eagerly, the young men plunged into the underbrush.

“Bind and gag me first,” the taller of the young men said. “I’m taller than he is.”

“No, me first!” the shorter of the young men said. “He may be taller than I am, but I’m shorter than he is,”

“Now, now, let’s be fair about this,” Max said. “We’ll bind you and gag you both at the same time. I’ll bind and gag you,” he said to the tall one. “And, my cohort here will bind and gag you,” he said to the short one.

“Couldn’t it be the other way around?” the tall one said. “She looks like a faster binder and gagger than you.”

“Now look,” Max said irritably, “if we’re going to have a lot of bickering about this, we’ll just call the whole thing off.”

The two young men immediately fell silent.

Max and 99 bound and gagged them, then took their identification papers.

“According to this I.D.,” Max said, “I am now Ronald J. Macy, VII. Who are you, 99?”

“Arbuthnot L. Gimbel, Max.”

“Hmmm . . . no wonder they didn’t get along too well.”

Max and 99 returned to the road, leaving the two young men in the underbrush, and approached the gate. A guard raised his musket and ordered them to halt.

“Musket?” Max said.

“The Professor keeps us armed with the latest weapons,” the guard explained, examining Max’s and 99’s identification papers. “Next week we’re getting Bowie knives.”

“Are the papers all in order?” Max asked.

“They look fine,” the guard replied. “Except on this Gimbel, the sex is marked as ‘male’. That couldn’t be right. Could it?” he said to 99.

“Heavens, no,” 99 said.

“I didn’t think so,” the guard said. “You better have that changed.”

“It’s too late,” 99 replied. “I’ve been a female all my life.”

“He means have the identification paper changed,” Max said.

“No, that wasn’t what I meant,” the guard said. “But that’s probably a better idea than what I had in mind.” He handed the identification papers back to Max and 99. “Pass Macy and Gimbel,” he said.

Max and 99 entered the school grounds. Instantly, they were set upon by a dozen or more young men who were wearing red and white striped jackets. In the lapels of the jackets were round metal buttons that identified the young men as “Senior” students.

“You two are freshmen, aren’t you?” the leader of the seniors asked.

“That’s right. This is our first day at the school,” Max replied.

“Then you better start out right, obeying the rules,” the leader said. “The first rule is: Whenever you see a senior, snap to attention and turn your pockets inside-out.”

“That’s an excellent rule,” Max said. “I’m sure it’s based on careful consideration and sound judgment—even if it does sound a little idiotic.”

“Actually, it’s very sensible,” the leader said. “When you turn your pockets inside-out, all the money falls on the ground. We pick it up. That’s the way we support the Senior Fun.”

“Senior
Fund,
you mean,” Max corrected. “Like the Community Fund . . . a charity.”

“Not exactly,” the leader said. “The Senior Fun is used to finance the seniors when they go into town for a little fun.” He held out a hand. “Cough up.”

Max reached into his pocket, got out a dollar, and dropped it into the hand.

99 did the same.

“Carry on!” the leader commanded.

Max and 99 proceeded, heading toward what looked like the administration building.

“Now then,” Max said, “all we have to do is find some place to plant the explosive, then we can turn around and march right back out the gate.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any place handy, Max.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find—”

A second group of young men came pouring out of the administration building. They were led by a young man with a crew-cut and an exceptionally serious-looking expression. Suddenly spotting Max and 99 he halted the group, then approached them.

“I’m Frank Sadwell,” he said, glowering. “I’m the senior freshman. Aren’t you two freshmen, too?”

Max introduced himself and 99 using their assumed names. “We were just on the way to the administration building to plant a . . . that is, to register,” Max said.

“You can do that later,” Sadwell snapped. “Right now, all freshmen are due at the auditorium. We’re to hear The Professor’s welcoming address.”

“Yes, that’s what I said, we were on our way to the auditorium to hear The Professor’s welcoming address,” Max said.

“Fall in!” Frank Sadwell barked.

Max and 99 joined the group, then Sadwell marched it off toward the auditorium.

“We’ll probably find some place along the way to plant the explosive,” Max said to 99.

“Careful, Max. That Frank Sadwell is watching you. I think he’s suspicious.”

“Impossible,” Max said. “Our cover identities are perfect.”

Sadwell dropped back to the rear of the formation, alongside Max and 99. “Have we met before?” he said suspiciously to Max. “You look familiar to me.”

“Do you spend much time in Miami Beach?” Max asked.

“Never been there.”

“Then maybe that’s it,” Max said. “I haven’t either.”

“It’s your face,” Sadwell said, his eyes narrowing. “Somewhere, I’ve seen it before.”

“It must have been right where it is now,” Max replied. “It doesn’t move around much.”

“A picture. I think I’ve seen a picture of you.”

“In my high school class year book, maybe?”

“I don’t read year books,” Sadwell replied curtly. “My reading is limited to ‘Wanted’ posters. I try to keep up on the identities of all the Control agents. That’s how I got into this school. I got a scholarship for superior ‘Wanted’ poster knowledge.”

“Well, you couldn’t have seen my picture on a ‘Wanted’ poster,” Max pointed out. “If I were a Control agent, what would I be doing at a KAOS school? Control has a training school of its own, you know. Simple loyalty to the organization would demand that I take my training there.”

Sadwell thought about that for a moment, then, without commenting, he moved back to the head of the formation.

“Max, I don’t think he was convinced,” 99 said.

“Of course he was. Simple logic does it every time. His doubts have been completely laid to rest.”

“If you say so, Max.”

They marched into the auditorium, then, at Sadwell’s command they seated themselves.

A moment later, a crotchety-looking old man hobbled out onto the stage. He peered over his spectacles at the freshmen. Then he spoke. “My name, as you probably know, is Professor,” he said. “My first name is The. But, you may call me The Professor. While you are here at the KAOS training school, I will be father, mother, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin and nephew to you. And if you step out of line, I will treat you just like a father, mother, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin or nephew would do. I will spank you soundly and send you to bed without dessert.”

There were cheers—and a few tears—from the freshmen.

“Are there any questions?” The Professor asked.

A freshman rose. “What’s for dessert tonight?” he queried.

“You’ll never know, young man,” The Professor replied. “For questioning me, you will be sent to bed without dessert. Now, are there any more questions?”

There were no more questions.

“You’re a bright group,” The Professor smiled. “A group that asks no questions is obviously a group that knows all the answers. Now,” he continued, “we will leave the auditorium and I will take you on a tour of the classrooms.”

The Professor hobbled down off the stage, then hobbled toward the doorway.

Frank Sadwell called the group to attention. Then he marched the freshmen off behind The Professor.

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

“Max, there just isn’t any place out here on the grounds. We’ll have to wait until we get inside.”

Max sighed. “That means we’ll have to listen to a stuffy lecture.”

“Maybe we’ll be lucky, Max. Maybe we’ll find a place to plant the explosive before we get to the classroom.”

With The Professor still hobbling along in front, the freshmen entered another building.

“Max! Look!” 99 said. “Up ahead. There’s a table. And on the table is a bowl of flowers.”

“Yes. Very nice,” Max replied. “Daisies, aren’t they?”

“What I mean is, Max, you can drop the explosive into the vase.”