A few seconds later, Max, Blossom and Fang reached the second floor. They turned left, and soon came to an exceptionlly wide door with ZAMPORANGOWATSIABUNALUMPORNALAND stenciled on it in gold lettering.
Max put his ear to the door, listening. “There’s something going on in there!” he said.
“How do you know?” Blossom whispered.
“I hear voices!”
Blossom frowned. “What’s so sinister about that? It’s an office, and there are usually people in an office, and people talk. So what’s so strange about that?”
“They’re talking in code,” Max said, his ear still at the door.
“Oh.” Blossom pressed her own ear to the door. She listened a second, then said, “I don’t see how you can tell-I can’t understand a word they’re saying.”
“Of course not-it’s Zamporangowatsiabunalumpornaland code.”
“Well, if it’s Zamporangamacallit, how do you know it’s-”
“We’re going to have to break in,” Max said crisply, straightening. “Every second counts. All that talk… they must have Fred in there grilling him. Wringing the entire knowledge of Western Man out of him. There’s not a minute to lose. Stand back!”
“But, Max-”
“I think you’d better call me ‘86’ on formal occasions like this when I’m breaking in,” Max said.
“All I’m trying to say is, you haven’t even tried the door. Maybe it’s open.”
Max smirked. “You may be a hotshot inventor, but it’s obvious you don’t know the first thing about espionage. Those people in there have been clever enough to lure Fred-the world’s greatest repository of human knowledge-into their trap. Now, does it stand to reason that they would be stupid enough to leave the door unlocked?”
“Well…”
“If I walked up to that door,” Max went on, “and turned the knob-like this…” He turned the knob, and the door creeped open a crack. Max leaped back, startled. “Watch it! It’s a trick!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Blossom pushed the door open, then peered into the office.
There were a number of people, mostly young men, in conversation at a small reception desk. They glanced up, and their conversation halted, as the door opened.
“Prudosier?” smiled the girl at the desk, the receptionist.
Max pushed Blossom aside and sprang into the office, pulling his pistol. Fang, meanwhile, crouched in the corridor, whining.
“All right-the game’s up!” Max barked. “Where’s Fred?”
One of the young men replied. “Awunda yonbaro aqua pistola.”
“Knock off the code!” Max snapped. “Just tell me where Fred is, and I’ll see that the judge goes easy on you.”
The girl, still smiling, said, “He is not speaking Code, he is speaking Zamporangamacallit. I am the only one here who speaks English.”
“Yeah?” Max said suspiciously. “All right, then, what did he say?”
“He said that there is water dripping from your pistol.”
“Oh.” Max looked down at his gun. A trickle of river water was dripping from the barrel. “Yeah, well, it’s a water pistol,” he said, thinking fast. “Now, enough of that… where is Fred?”
“Huboni drosti ust Bigelow ” said one of the young men.
“What’s that?” Max growled at the receptionist.
“He says your pistol is dripping on the carpet.”
“Sorry.” Max holstered his gun. Then he called out, “Fang! Come in here!”
A canine nose appeared in the doorway.
“All the way in!”
Tail between his hind legs, head lowered, Fang came crawling in.
“Search the premises,” Max ordered.
“Rorff!”
“Never mind that! That date isn’t until tonight. You’ll have plenty of time to get your hair combed. Stop acting like a scared pup, and search this office!”
Fang went crawling off, nosing into an adjoining room.
“Excuse me,” said the receptionist, “what are you looking for?”
“As if you didn’t know! But, just in case you don’t know, we’re looking for Fred. He’s a computer. Built in the form of a robot. His eyes revolve, and he has a lever at his side, and he goes ‘peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!’ ”
The girl translated for the young men. “Probona slot machine, expresso ‘peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!’ ”
The men stared open-mouthed at Max.
Embarrassed, Max hooked a thumb toward Blossom. “Don’t look at me-she’s the one who thought him up!”
Fang returned. He was no longer creeping. “Rorff!” he barked.
Max looked pained. To the receptionist, he said, “I’m very sorry.” He and Fang began backing toward the doorway, edging Blossom out with them. “Natural mistake,” Max apologized to the receptionist. “I heard you all speaking in a foreign language, so I naturally assumed that there was some sort of funny business going on. Again… sorry.” He closed the door behind him.
“What did Fang find?” Blossom said, when they were in the corridor again.
“Nothing,” Max sighed.
“Rorff!”
“Oh… yeah… a guy in the back room building bombs and painting ‘Yanks Unfair to Yogi Berra’ signs. But no Fred.”
Blossom sighed. “What now?”
“We still have a sheepdog up our sleeve,” Max said. “If Fred is in this building, Fang will find him. Look… do you have anything personal on you that belongs to Fred?”
Blossom opened her purse and pawed through it. “Here’s a transistor,” she said finally. “It was part of Fred’s calculating mechanism. But it blew when he tried to work out a problem in the New Math. I had to replace it.”
“Great,” Max said, taking the transistor. He held it out to Fang. “Sniff, boy!”
Fang sniffed. “Rorff!”
“He’s got the scent!” Max said. “Now, let’s go back to that board in the lobby that lists all the names of the nations and match up the scent with the country. That will give us the whereabouts of Fred!”
As they hurried toward the elevators, Blossom said, “That doesn’t really seem very logical to me.”
“Logic-schmogic!” Max retorted. “In this business, you have to use your brain.”
When they reached the lobby, they went directly to the roster of names.
Fang sniffed. “Rorff!”
“A-ha!” Max exulted. “Zambrosia, is it?” He turned smugly to Blossom. “And you said it wasn’t logical!”
“I still don’t see-”
“It just so happens,” Max said, “that in Greek mythology, ambrosia is the food of the gods. It’s supposed to ensure immortality. He who eats ambrosia never dies. Get it?”
Blossom shook her head.
“Then apparently you don’t remember that there is also an old saying that goes, ‘Never trust a Greek bearing gifts.’ Now… think about it… who else, bearing gifts, should never be trusted?”
Blossom thought. “Santa Claus?”
Max winced. “You’re not even trying. A FLAG agent, that’s who! Or, in other words, Zambrosia is a cover-up for a FLAG agent who is holding Fred captive. Now… see the logic?”
Again, Blossom shook her head.
Max threw up his hands in disgust. “Try to explain something to a flutter-headed dame!” He signalled to Fang. “Come on, boy! Grab your scent, and let’s get tracking!”
They dashed away, Fang with his nose to the ground, and Blossom hurried after them.
Fang led them to the elevators, then to a high floor. Getting off the elevator, they made their way along the corridor until they came to a door marked ZAMBROSIA.
“Is that a nose, or is that a nose!” Max crowed.
“I don’t think he followed a scent at all,” Blossom said.
“He got us here, didn’t he?”
“He probably read the directions off that board downstairs,” Blossom said.
Max eyed Fang sternly. “ ’Fess up, boy! Did you read those directions?”
Fang whined and hid his face.
Max looked at him scathingly. “I hope that’s the last time that ever happens. Remember this: Cheaters never win!”
“Rorff!”
“That’s a very poor philosophy for a secret agent!” Max snapped.
“What did he say?” Blossom asked.
“He said that cheaters win all the time-you just never hear about it.”
“There’s probably something to that. You know, once-”
“Never mind!” Max broke in. “I don’t want Fang to hear about it. He’s got enough wrong ideas in his head as it is.” He faced the door. “All right… this is it! Fred is in there somewhere! There’s no time for the amenities. We’ll charge in, overpower the guards, release Fred, then make a run for it! All set?”
“But-”
“Ready?”
“But-”
“Go!”
Max threw the door open wide and charged in. Fang went yelping down the corridor in the other direction, tail between his legs. Blossom just stared.
As in the previous office, there was a small desk and a female receptionist seated behind it. There were two other men present. They were seated also, reading, as if they were waiting for an audience with the person behind another door that was marked Private.
Max challenged the larger of the two young men. “On your feet!”
Puzzled, the man rose.
“Hold out your right hand!” Max ordered.
Still perplexed, the man obeyed.
Max grasped the hand, and, using a jujitsu hold, flung the man across the room. The man splattered against the wall, slid to the floor, and lay silent.
“One down!” Max chortled. To the other man, he said, “Next!”
The man made a break for the doorway.
Max tackled him, brought him down, then, rising, grasped him by the left arm, wrenched him to his feet, then, using another jujitsu hold, flattened him again on the floor. The man lay silent.
Max stepped up to the reception desk.
“Yes sir?” said the receptionist. “Something I can do for you?”
“I’d like to see the head man,” Max said crisply.
“Yes sir… if you’d like to wait. There are two ahead of you.”
“Oh no you don’t!” Max said. “I had that trick pulled on me in the summer of ’61. I called for an interview at the office of a FLAG agent who was smuggling orange ping-pong balls. His girl kept me waiting in the outer office for three hours-telling me the other guys were ahead of me. As it turned out, the other guys were store window manikins. And the orange ping-pong ball smuggler slipped out the rear exit.”
“I am sorry,” the girl said, “but the Ambassador is in conference.”
“Grilling Fred, eh?”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind announcing me,” Max said. “I’ll just break in.”
He went to the door marked Private, gave it a hefty kick, and it splintered open. There was a large, bearded man seated inside at a huge, ornate desk. He was munching a sandwich.
Max stiffened. “Oh, no!”
“Who are you!” the man bellowed.
“Just one thing,” Max said. “Is that, by any chance, a liverwurst sandwich?”
“Of course!” the man growled. “Liverwurst is my favorite!”
Max sighed. “It’s also Fang’s favorite,” he said. He smiled weakly. “Sorry,” he said to the Ambassador. “Wrong scent!”
Max backed out, turned, and, stepping over a body, left the office. In the corridor, he reported to Blossom. “A minor error,” he said. “It wasn’t Fred that Fang was sniffing, it was liverwurst.” He shrugged. “A natural mistake… it could happen to anybody.” He looked around. “Where is the noble beast?”
“I think ‘noble beast’ means a horse,” Blossom said.
“That’s right. When I catch him, I’m going to make horsemeat out of him.”
They went searching for Fang, and found him down the corridor, cowering in a broom closet.
As Max was castigating him, Blossom suddenly put a hand on his arm and said, “Shhhh! Listen!”
“What? What?”
“Listen!”
Max cupped a hand to his ear. Dimly, he heard, “Peep-a-doooo.. ”
“It’s Fred!” Blossom said.
“Quick-look for a lavatory!” Max said.
“For heaven’s sake, why?”
“It sounds to me like Fred is brushing his teeth!”
“No, no, he sounds as if he’s strangling!”
Again, distantly, they heard, “Peep-a-dooooo…”
“Do something!” Blossom wailed. “Fang-find Fred!”
Fang put his nose to the ground.
“Your ears, you idiot!” Max snapped. “Peep-a-dotta is a sound, it isn’t a scent!”
So Fang put an ear to the ground.
“Peep-a-doooo…”
Fang went bounding down the corridor. Max and Blossom dashed after him. He pulled up, skidding, at a door marked FREDONIA.
“I told you!” Blossom said.
“Pure coincidence,” Max said peevishly. “The odds are a thousand-to-one against it. It wouldn’t happen again in a hundred years.”
“Well, do something!”
Max drew back and threw himself against the door. It splintered and fell in-and Max followed it, ending up flat on his face inside the office.
The office was vacant except for the receptionist at the desk. The girl looked remarkably like Noel, the girl guide who had escorted them to the door in the basement marked DANGER!
“Haven’t we met somewhere before?” Max said, peering up from his prone position on the floor.
“Perhaps Paree?” the girl smiled.
“Of course! The summer of ’61. Paree, Illinois. How could I ever forget?”
“Where is Fred!” Blossom demanded.
“Fred who?” Noel said innocently. “All who is here is the Ambassador from Fredonia.”
From behind the door marked Private came, “Peep-a…”
“He’s growing weaker,” Max said, jumping up. “No time to waste!”
He threw himself against the second door-and bounced off it, hitting the far wall. Then, coming back strong, he approached the door again, turned the knob, and flung the door open. Next, entering, he tripped on the sill and fell flat on his face.
Looking up, Max found himself at the feet of Fred, who looked more like the Tin Man than Rock Hudson. There was the pointed tin hat, tin torso, tin arms, tin legs, tin feet. And, as Blossom had said, a lever at his side.
Blossom came bursting in. “Fred!” She threw her arms around him. “Are you all right!”
“Peep-a…” He seemed to be strangling, as Blossom had feared.
Max leaped to his feet. “He’s been gagged,” he said.
“But I don’t see any-”
“Ah, here it is!” Max said. He removed a coin from Fred’s slot. “Somebody forced a slug into his mechanism,” Max explained.
Fred made a sound that could have passed for a sigh of relief. Then-clank, clank, clank-his arm raised. He dropped his nickel into the slot. Clink, clank, rattle, the nickel dropped back into his pocket-actually, a compartment in his hand. Next, he depressed his lever. “Peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!” His eyes rolled. Three lemons came up. Then he spoke-in a hollow, far-away voice.
“Thanks,” he said.
“That’s a heck of a lot of buildup for one word,” Max said.
“It isn’t what he says, it’s how he says it,” Blossom said. “There was a lot of feeling in it. He really appreciates your help.”
“Great-that makes my job all the easier,” Max said. Then, addressing Fred, he said, “Fella… if you don’t mind my calling you that… my mission is to bring you back. With, your brains, you’re invaluable to the nation that controls- Let me put it another way. It just so happens that-as matters stand-we are the Good Guys, and everybody else is the Bad Guys… or is that ‘are’ the Bad Guys? Anyway, we’re the Good Guys, and whether it’s ‘is’ or ‘are’ is their problem; let them worry about it. Or should that be ‘are’ their problem?”
“Rorff!”
Max sneered. “Anybody who spells the way you do is in no position to give advice on grammar. Stay out of this!” He turned back to Fred. “Fella… this is how it stands. Being the Good Guys, we’re willing to give you a choice. Self-determination it’s called. You can join up with us-that’s choice number one. Or we’ll take you apart, transistor by transistor, and ram you down your own slot. That’s choice number two.” He glanced at his watch. “You have three months to decide.”
“Three months?” Blossom said incredulously.
“Belay that!” Max said. “I meant three seconds. This is a calendar watch, and I always get the seconds and the months mixed up. Minutes, I confuse with weeks. I remember in the summer of ’61 I spent the whole month of May trying to boil a four-minute egg.” To Fred, he said, “I’m counting, fella…”
Fred’s arm ascended. The nickel clink-clanked through his anatomy. Down went the lever. His eyes revolved, accompanied by “peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!” Three lemons appeared. He spoke:
“Man who sits on firecracker should watch out behind!”
Max stared for a second, then turned in bafflement to Blossom. “Man who sits on firecracker should watch out behind?”
She giggled. “I guess he gets that from me. I watch a lot of old Charlie Chan movies on TV.”
“What does it mean?”
“I think it means there’s something going on behind us.”
As one, they turned.
And found themselves facing a large automatic pistol being held by Noel.
“Steeek ’em up!” Noel said.
Max slumped dejectedly. “I knew I’d met you somewhere before. It wasn’t Paree, Illinois, and it wasn’t the summer of ’61. It was just a few minutes ago in the basement. You know,” he said reprovingly, “you made a clumsy mistake down there. That door didn’t lead to a private office, it led to the East River. We could have been severely injured.” He pointed to the pistol. “And that goes for that gun you’re holding, too. Guns are not toys. They’re dangerous weapons. Especially in the hands of a female. Now, give me that-”
Noel fired. A little round hole with singed edges appeared in the sleeve of Max’s jacket.
“See what I mean!” he said disgustedly. “You could have killed me!”
“She’s a FLAG agent,” Blossom whispered.
“Nonsense. She’s just a nice girl from Paree, Illinois, who doesn’t know a thing about handling a dangerous weapon. Now, look-” he said to Noel.
“Silence!” Noel snapped. “I will speak with Fred.”
Max turned back to Fred. “Okay, you tell her what a dangerous weapon a gun is.”
“I will do the telling,” Noel said. Then, speaking to Fred, she said, “This fool is lying to you. It is really we who are the Good Guys. He is the Bad Guys.”
“I think that should be ‘are,’ ” Max said.
“Silence!”
“Okay, okay,” Max shrugged. “If you want to be one of those people who makes mistakes in grammar…”
“Come with me,” Noel said, addressing Fred again. “I will take you to the land of love, love, love. We will-”
“Could you be a little more specific about that?” Max broke in. “The land of love, love, love could be practically anywhere.”
“Let it suffice to say that the land I represent is the Good Guys,” Noel replied. “I would not work for anyone else. Surely, you believe that. Knowing me as you do, could you imagine me in league with the Bad Guys?”
“It would be difficult,” Max admitted.
“Well, it wouldn’t be difficult for me!” Blossom said. “I think she’s working for-”
“Ah-ah-ah!” Max said, stopping her. “No names, please. That’s the first rule of a secret agent-”
“Second rule,” Noel corrected.
“That’s right-I forgot the one about never leaving your secret code book on a lunch counter.” To Blossom, he said. “The second rule is: No names! If you go around mentioning names you’re liable to find out that you and your adversary are both working for the same client. It could get sticky.”
“Silence!” Noel said again.
“Sorry. I just can’t resist the opportunity to explain these little inside technical aspects.”
Once more, Noel spoke to Fred. “This is what I can offer you,” she said. “Your own apartment on the Champs Elysees. A credit card-paid up-with Carte Blanche. An introduction to Brigitte Bardot.”
Max whispered to Blossom. “There’s a clue there. Keep listening; a slip of the tongue, and she may reveal her client.”
“I, too, offer you a choice,” Noel said to Fred. “You can come with me peacefully, or I will put a bullet through your main transistor. You have two seconds to decide!”
“Don’t listen to her,” Max said to Fred. “I’ll match her offer-item for item-and throw in seventy-five cents cash!”
“Silence!” To Fred, she said, “The time is fleeting!”
“Or, to put it another way,” Max said, “tempus fugits, eh?”
“Exactly,” Noel nodded.
“A-ha!” Max cried. “I’ve got it! You’re Panamanian!” To Blossom, he explained, “I had a teacher in sixth grade who used that phrase. ‘Tempus fugit, tempus fugit,’ she kept saying. She was Panamanian as — ”
“Siiiiiiilence!” Noel shrieked.
“Can’t take the pressure, eh?” Max said smugly.
“What is your decision?” Noel said to Fred.
Fred’s arm came up. He dropped the nickel in, and pushed down his lever. “Peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!” His eyes rolled three lemons. He spoke:
“Woman who sits on firecracker should watch out behind!”
“His needle’s stuck,” Max said.
“No… look!” Blossom said, pointing.
They all looked.
Boris had appeared in the doorway. He was dripping wet; a pool of water began to form at his feet. He was gripping an automatic pistol that was even larger and more evil-looking than the one Noel was holding.
“Stuck ’em up!” Boris commanded.
Noel’s arms flew skyward; her gun clattered to the floor.
Relieved, Max lowered his arms. “You got here just in the nick of time,” he said to Boris. “Difficult as it is to believe, this nice little girl from Paree, Illinois, has turned out to be a FLAG agent. She works for-”
“Ah-ah-ah! No names!” Boris cautioned. “And stuck up your hands!”
“I think you’re a little confused, Boris,” Max said, raising his arms again. “It’s the young lady here who’s the FLAG agent. I’m the Good Guy.”
“How do I know?” Boris said. “I am only a simple tourist from Zinzinotti, Alleybama. To me, simple tourist that I am, there is only one solution. I will shoot you both.”
“Peeeg!” Noel snarled.
“That’s Panamanian,” Max explained to Boris. “And, about that other thing-let’s talk it over. I think you’d feel very foolish if you shot us both, and then discovered later that you’d shot a genuine Good Guy along with a Bad Guy. I might add that it certainly wouldn’t enhance the reputation of Zinzinotti, Alleybama. I’m afraid you’d get a good knuckle-rapping once you got back home.”
“Talk, talk, talk!” Boris growled. “Enough talk! Now, shoot!” He aimed the pistol directly at Max.
“Hold on there!” Max said. “Since you won’t listen to reason, let’s try a little subterfuge. It just so happens that this building is surrounded by a battalion of troops from the Fifth Armored Division. Pull that trigger, and you’re a doomed man!”
“You are insane!”
“Don’t believe it, eh? All right, would you believe: fifty motorcycle cops and a troop of Boy Scouts?”
“Prepare to die!”
“In that case, would you believe: a troop of Girl Scouts armed with rock-hard Girl Scout cookies?”
Boris aimed the pistol. “On the count of three. One… two.. ”
“Last chance,” Max said. “Would you believe: one small boy with a water pistol?”
“Three!” Boris counted. He pulled the trigger. The pistol clicked. A drop of river water fell from the end of the barrel.
Max stared. “I must have magic powers. All I said was ‘water pistol.’ ”
Again, frantically now, Boris pulled the trigger. “Click!”
“This comes as a complete surprise to me,” Max said. “I had no idea I was magic.”
Boris pulled the trigger of his gun rapidly. “Click… click.. click… click… click… click…”
“Now I’ll try something really difficult,” Max said. “Allakazam and hocus-pocus… I command a full battalion of the Fifth Armored Division to appear.”
They all turned expectantly to the doorway.
But nothing happened.
“Maybe that was asking a little too much,” Max said. “Allakazam and hocus-pocus… how about one teensy-weensy motorcycle cop… off-duty if necessary.”
Still nothing.
Max shook his head puzzledly. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Rorff!”
“I beg your pardon!” Max said coolly. “It just so happens that ‘allakazam’ is so spelled with two l’s.”
“Click… click… click… click… click!” went Boris’s gun.
“Okay, two can play at that game,” Max said. He whipped out his own pistol, took dead aim on Boris, and pulled the trigger. “Click!” went the pistol. A drop of river water fell from the barrel.
Boris fired again. “Click!”
Max’s turn. “Click… click… click… click!”
Boris. “Click… click… click!”
Max. “Click… click… click!”
Then silence.
Both Max and Boris continued to pull their triggers, but there was no sound.
“I think we’re out of ammunition,” Max said finally. Then, thinking fast, he turned to Blossom and said, “Quick… get the girl’s gun!”
Noel’s arms were still in the air, and her pistol was still on the floor.
Blossom snatched up the gun.
“Good work!” Max said.
Blossom handed the gun to Noel. “Here you are… you dropped your gun!”
“No! No! No!” Max bellowed.
“But you said-”
“I said ‘get’ her gun, I didn’t say ‘give it to her.’ ”
“But it’s her gun!”
“The third rule!” Max raged. “Never give the enemy his gun back!”
“Well, how should I know!” Blossom wept. “I’m not a professional!”
“All right, all right,” Max sighed. “I guess that’s how you learn-by making mistakes.” He spoke to Noel. “Look, could we run through that again. You put the gun back, and I’ll say to her, ‘Quick
… get the girl’s-.’ ”
“Siiiiilence!” Noel screamed.
“For a secret agent, you certainly are touchy,” Max grumbled.
“You!” Noel said, addressing Fred. “You will accompany me!” To the others, she said, “If there is any attempt to follow us, I will destroy Fred. If you value his mechanism, believe me. For those are my orders!”
“I hardly think that last was necessary,” Max said, hurt. “I would never call a lady a liar.”
Boris stepped forward-hands up. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement,” he said to Noel.
“Good old Boris,” Max commented to Blossom. “In there right to the last trying to save the day for us.”
“What’s your deal?” Noel said warily to Boris.
“I will swap you one secret agent, one lady inventor and a mangy dog for Fred,” said Boris. “And I will throw in two pistols, which, when drained, will work just like new.”
“Is that a friend, or is that a friend!” Max said to Blossom. “It’s probably everything he owns.”
“What kind of a deal is that!” Noel scoffed. “You’re trying to trade me something I already have, and don’t want, for something I also have, and do want.”
Boris shrugged. “I am a poor man. I can only give what is someone else’s.”
“No deal!” Noel snapped.
“Good try, anyway,” Max said to Boris.
Noel turned her pistol on Fred. “Follow me!” She backed toward the doorway.
“Goodbye, Fred,” Blossom sniffled.
“So long, friend,” Max said. “When you get to Panamania, give my regards to Brigitte Bardot. Ask her if she remembers the summer of ’61.”
“Hurry!” Noel commanded Fred.
Fred moved forward. As he did so, his arm raised, the nickel dropped into his slot. “Peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!” Lemons.
He spoke. “Ladies first.”
A blush crept into Noel’s cheeks. “How nice of you,” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “You are a gentleman.”
Noel stepped through the doorway first.
Fred’s arm came up again. He slammed the door and locked it, shutting Noel out. The key he dropped into his slot.
Noel pounded angrily on the other side of the door and shrieked. “You ugly computer! You are no gentleman!”
“Veeeery neat!” Max commended Fred. To Blossom, he said, “Do you see what he’s done? He’s locked her out!”
“Let me in!” Noel shrilled.
Max called back through the closed door. “We can’t. It’s locked! And we can’t shoot the lock off because we’re out of ammunition.” He winked at the tourist from Zinzinotti. “Right, Boris?”
“Da,” Boris grinned.
“Let me in!”
“Tell you what I’ll do,” Max called. “Slip your gun under the door, and I’ll shoot the lock off from in here.”
Silence.
Then, from outside, Noel’s voice again. “Scout’s honor?”
“Max Smart is a man of his word.”
The gun came sliding under the door.
Max picked it up. He spoke through the door again. “I said I’d shoot the lock off the door. But I didn’t say when I’d do it. Just be seated, please. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” He turned to Blossom. “Understand what I’m doing? I’ve got her trapped out there.”
“But we’re the ones who are inside,” Blossom said.
“Exactly. We’re inside, free to maneuver, and she’s outside, trapped. Think about it.” He faced toward Boris. “Boris, I appreciate everything you’ve done. None of it worked… but the thought was there, anyway.”
“Perhaps I could do one more little thing for you,” Boris smiled. “Hold the gun, for example?”
“Geeee… that’s nice of you. But I’m going to need it in a second to blast the lock off that door. There is one thing you can do for me, though. You can come along with me when I take that girl back to Control. I may need you to back up my story. Sometimes the Chief thinks I exaggerate. When I tell him this nice girl from Paree, Illinois, is actually a FLAG agent, he’s going to be a little… where are you going?”
Boris was backing toward the window. “Suddenly I need a little air,” Boris said. “I thought I’d step out for a moment.”
“Hey… watchit! We’re twenty stories up. If you step out that window, you’ll-”
Boris disappeared.
Max winced, closing his eyes tight.
There was a long, long silence… then an explosive splash. River water sprayed in through the open window.
Max sighed relievedly. “Lucky, lucky break,” he said. “Apparently the river is right below the window.”
Blossom went to the window and looked out. “He’s swimming,” she reported. “And there’s that submarine again.”
Max joined her at the window. “You’re certainly stubborn when you get an idea in your head,” he said. “That’s still not a submarine. It’s a periscope.”
“Well, what’s under it?”
“The bed of the river, of course. Any school child could answer that!” He went back to the door and spoke through it. “All right, out there! Just be patient. I’m going to blast this lock!”
There was no reply.
“I think she’s sulking,” Max said.
“I think she’s gone,” Blossom said.
“We’ll see about that!”
Max aimed the pistol at the lock and fired. There was a shattering of metal and wood. The door creaked open.
Max stepped out.
Noel was nowhere in sight.
“Fantastic!” Max said. “She eluded the trap! I would have bet my last Indian head penny that…” He shrugged resignedly. “Well, that just proves it. The best made plans of mice and men, eh?”
Blossom came out of the inner office. “At least, we saved Fred,” she said.
“Right! Mission accomplished. Now, it’s a simple matter of taking him to Control and turning him over to the authorities.” He beckoned to Fred. “Come along, fella. It’s clear sailing from here on out.”
Fred joined them, clanking. And they made their way from the office of Fredonia toward the elevators.