As Max spoke, the cab suddenly shot forward at a tremendous speed. And at the same time, Noman turned completely in the front seat, facing Max and Peaches, and ignoring the steering wheel and other controls.
“Help!” Peaches shrieked. “We’ll be killed.”
“You know, that possibility does exist,” Max said to Noman. “We’re hurtling forward at-” He looked at the speedometer. “At ninety-one-point-three miles per hour, and no one is at the wheel. It’s conceivable that an accident could occur.”
“As a matter of fact, it’s entirely unlikely,” Noman replied. “This cab is electronically-controlled-and programmed to avoid all obstacles.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Max said.
“Would you believe, then, that it’s programmed to avoid ninety per cent of the obstacles?”
“That sounds a bit more like it,” Max said. “After all, no one is perfect-not even an electronically-controlled cab.”
“This cab is as close to perfect as any cab now in existence,” Noman said. “It was the cab, in fact, that made it possible for me to find you in that deserted section of the city. You see, it has a homing device. I can direct it toward any of several objects and it will speed unerringly to the target. To find you, all I had to do was set the dial on ‘Max Smart’.”
“This is insane!” Peaches said. “I don’t believe it-not any of it!”
Noman indicated a dial on the control panel. “See for yourself.”
Max and Peaches leaned forward and peered at the dial. It had several settings-‘Max Smart’-‘Potomac River’-‘Busy Bee Lunch’-‘Public Library’-‘Frank’s Shoe Repair’-‘Hotel Windsor (Room 603)’-‘Miscellaneous’.
“Busy Bee Lunch?” Max said.
“They serve the best beet soup in town,” Noman explained.
“I see. I also notice that, right now, the indicator is set on ‘Potomac River’. Is that significant?”
“No, it’s a plain old river.”
“What I mean is, is the cab, by any chance, headed for the Potomac River?”
“I’m glad you asked that,” Noman replied. “It saves me the trouble of pointing it out. And time is important in this case. For, in a very few minutes, this cab will plunge-carrying with it all its occupants-directly into the Potomac River.”
“Help!” Peaches shrieked again.
“That won’t help,” Noman said. “The cab can be stopped only by disengaging its homing device. And, of the three of us, only I know how to do that.”
“Would it be unreasonable to suggest, then, that you do it-before we all plunge into the river and drown?” Max said.
“Not unreasonable, but pointless. I have no intention of disengaging the device until I have the Dooms Day Plan in my hands.”
“Give it to him!” Peaches screamed at Max.
Max looked at her disappointedly. “You seem to forget-the fate of the entire you-know-what hangs in the you-know-what.”
“But we’ll all be drowned!” she wailed.
“That’s a telling point,” Max admitted. “However, I sort of promised the Chief that I’d look after this Plan. And it just isn’t nice to break a promise. So, I guess we’ll all just have to drown.”
Noman pulled a gun and pointed it at Max’s head. “Maybe this will change your mind.”
“To a drowned man, a hole in the head is not particularly troublesome,” Max replied.
“But suppose I shoot you, take the Plan, then disengage the homing device and escape?”
“Now, that could be troublesome,” Max admitted.
“Give him the Plan!” Peaches begged.
“No,” Max said. “Obviously, the only honorable thing to do is swallow it.”
“It’s too big to swallow!”
“Not bite by bite, it isn’t,” Max replied. And, so saying, he took a bite off the corner of the sheet of paper.
“You fool!” Noman raged. “This means your death!”
Max frowned. “Is paper poisonous?”
“No, but it means that I have no choice. Now, I must send you to your end in the river.” He looked out the front window. “And the river is only minutes away.”
“For heaven’s sake, hurry,” Peaches said to Max. “If you’re going to swallow the Plan, do it!”
“My mother taught me to chew thoroughly,” Max said. “It’s the secret of good digestion.”
“What does that matter! You’re going to die!”
“Perhaps so. But not because of poor digestion.”
“We’re almost to the river!” Noman cried. “Hold your noses!”
Max sighed heavily. “I can’t go through with it,” he said. He handed the Plan to Noman. “Here, take it.”
“Oh, Max,” Peaches squealed. “You did this for me.”
“No, I did it for my digestive system,” Max said. “I just couldn’t eat that Plan. It’s the most poorly seasoned Plan I ever tasted. It tastes like… well, like paper.”
Peaches turned to Noman. “You have the Plan. Now, stop the cab!”
“Like fudge, I will!” Noman laughed. “Your doom is sealed. Now that I have the Plan, I intend to eject myself from the cab, and leave you two here to plunge into the Potomac.”
“Exactly what I’d expect from a KAOS agent,” Max said. “Your actions are like your Plans-tasteless.”
“Toodle-loo!” Noman said. “I am now going to activate my ejection seat, rocket into the air, and descend safely by parachute.”
Then, smiling evilly, Noman punched his ejection button.
But, just as he did, Max reached out and snatched the Plan from his hand.
Noman went shooting through an opening in the roof of the cab-without the Plan.
“I did it!” Max cried. “I saved the day!”
“For how long?” Peaches said gloomily. “We’re still headed for the river.”
“But we have the Plan! The entire you-know-what of the you-know-what is no longer hanging in the you-know-what.”
“In a few minutes, I don’t think that’s going to make much difference to me,” Peaches moaned.
“We may still be able to escape,” Max said. “Try the doors.”
But the doors were all locked.
“Good-by, Max,” Peaches wept. “I wish I could say it had been a pleasure knowing you.”
Max was looking out the rear window. “There’s Noman,” he said. “He’s floating safely down to earth by parachute. But — without the Plan. I guess that proves it-the good guys always win.”
“Max! I can see the river! We’re lost!”
“We couldn’t be lost if you can see the river,” Max said. “That’s where we’re headed-the river. So how could we be lost?”
“I mean we’re doomed!”
“No-wait! Parachute! That gives me an idea!”
“Even if we had parachutes, what good would it do? We’re too close to the ground to jump.”
“A parachute can be used for other things besides jumping,” Max said. He began poking in his pockets. “Let’s see now, where did I put that parachute?”
“You’re mad!” Peaches sobbed.
Max extracted a ballpoint pen from an inside pocket. “Ah! Here it is!”
“That’s a parachute?”
“Yes. A parachute, and an acetylene torch, and a six-shot revolver, and a hair-dryer, and half of a set of chopsticks, and a miscellaneous. The only thing it won’t do is write.”
“But how will it help?”
“Just watch!”
Max punched the button at the top of the pen and a sledge hammer popped out the end. “That’s the miscellaneous,” he explained.
“You’re mad, and your pen is mad!”
Quickly, with one blow, Max smashed the rear window of the cab.
“That’s wonderful!” Peaches enthused.
“It could have been neater,” Max said.
“What now?”
Max retracted the sledge hammer, then pointed the pen out the opening. “Now-”
He punched the button again. This time a parachute popped from the pen. It opened, billowed, and then, acting as a brake, brought the cab to a halt.
“We’re saved!” Peaches cried joyfully.
“Yes,” Max said, less happily. “But every blessing has its drawbacks. Now, I have to re-pack that parachute.”
“But we’re alive, Max!”
“That’s fine for you. But have you ever tried to pack a parachute into a ballpoint pen?”
“Then leave it,” Peaches said disgustedly.
“Leave it?” Max was appalled. “That’s Government property. Every parachute I lose comes out of my salary.”
“But Max, we don’t have time to re-pack it. Noman might catch up with us. And, as you keep saying, the fate of the entire you-know-what hangs in the you-know-what.”
“I guess you’re right,” Max sighed. “I’ll have to leave the parachute. Even though it’ll mean that, to pay for it, I’ll have to skip lunches for a week.”
“What now, Max?” Peaches said.
“Onward and upward.”
“What does that mean?”
“Onward to the airport, and upward in a plane,” Max replied. “But first, I think I’d better report in to the Chief. He’ll be worried. You know how Chiefs are-they worry.”
Peaches looked at him warily. “This is where you contact the Chief on your shoe-right?”
“Right. But we can’t stay here by the river. Noman will probably come looking for us.” He pointed. “There’s a building over there. We’ll get inside, out of sight, then I’ll phone the Chief.”
“Oh, I see,” Peaches said, brightening. “That’s the Telephone Company.”
Max looked at the building again. “As a matter of fact, it is,” he said. “But, that’s all right-any building will do.”
“Any building with a phone, you mean.”
“No, I mean- Let’s not discuss it any more. The longer we stay here, the better chance Noman has of catching us.”
Max and Peaches left the river and walked to the Telephone Company building. Entering, they spotted a doorman.
Max walked up to him. “I’d like to make a private call,” he said. “Where would be a quiet place?”
The doorman pointed. “Public telephones, second door on the right, sir.”
“No, I don’t want a public telephone. This is a private call.”
“All private calls are made on public telephones, sir.”
“If you’ll think about it a second, you’ll see how ridiculous this is,” Max said. “What I want is a quiet little corner where I won’t be disturbed.”
“There are booths, sir.”
“All right,” Max said, “I suppose that will have to do.”
With Max leading the way, he and Peaches walked to the door that the doorman had pointed out. They entered a large room where a great number of operators were operating switchboards. Near the entrance were a great many booths.
“We’ll just duck into one of these,” Max said.
“I don’t think there’s room enough for both of us.”
“All right, we’ll leave the door open. I have trouble getting my shoe off in a closed telephone booth, anyway. You stand guard.”
Peaches nodded agreement.
Max stepped into the booth, then, bending over, removed his shoe.
“Mad!” Peaches groaned.
Max dialed, then held the shoe to his ear.
Operator: The number you have dialed is not a working number, sir.
Max: Of course it’s a working number. I dial it a dozen times a day.
Operator: What number did you dial, sir?
Max: I can’t tell you that, Operator. It’s top secret.
Operator: Are you the same kook who was trapped in a limousine in Greenwich Village a while back, sir?
Max: Operator-is that you? How’re things?
Operator: Oh, fine-in general. My Aunt Harriet isn’t doing too well these days, though. Her lumbago.
Max: That’s too bad. I have an Uncle Horace who suffers from the same thing. Has your Aunt Harriet tried milk baths? That seems to work for Uncle Horace.
Operator: She tried it. But she had to give it up. It was bad for her psychologically. She said, sitting there in a tub of milk, she felt like a giant Rice Krispie.
Max: That’s hard to believe.
Operator: Would you believe a shredded wheat biscuit?
Max: I’d be more likely to believe a Rice Krispie, frankly.
Operator: Every time she opened her mouth she said ‘snap, crackle, pop!’
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.