A S THE train moved slowly out of the terminal, Max sat down in his seat and removed his shoe. “Time to check in,” he said. “The Chief will be glad to hear that we’re finally on our way.”
“Ask him if he knows of any romantic things to do,” Peaches said.
“Sorry,” Max said, dialing. “This is a business phone.”
Operator: Sorry, sir, this is impossible.
Max: Impossible, Operator? What’s impossible?
Operator: You’re calling from a compartment on a train, sir. That can’t be done.
Max: Operator, this is official business. Couldn’t you make an exception?
Operator: Well… just this once. If you promise you won’t do it again.
Max: I promise. Now, please, connect me with Control.
Operator: Yes, sir. Here is your number, sir.
Chief: Control, here.
Max: Is that you, Chief?
Chief: Da.
Max: Da, Chief?
Chief: That’s Russian for ‘yes,’ Max. I assume you’re calling from Moscow.
Max: Well, no, not exactly, Chief. We’re a little short of that mark.
Chief: From New York, then?
Max: We’re a wee bit short of that mark, too, Chief.
Chief: Miami, Florida?
Max: That’s in the other direction, Chief.
Chief: Baltimore, Maryland?
Max: You’re getting warmer, Chief. Try Washington, D.C.
Chief: Max! You haven’t even left town yet?
Max: Chief, it isn’t because we haven’t tried. We’ve tried it by plane, and we’ve tried it by car. Now, we’re trying it by train.
Chief: I see. You’re taking a train to New York. Is that right?
Max: No, Chief, the train is taking us to New York. You see, we’re in a compartment, and the train is on the tracks.
Chief: You didn’t have to tell me that. I know how a train goes.
Max (smiling smugly): How does a train go, Chief? There’s a very funny answer to that. Want to hear it?
Chief: I don’t have to hear it, Max. I know how a train goes. It goes: Choo-Choo-Choo! I can hear it over your shoe.
Operator (breaking in): So that’s how you’re doing it, is it? — talking on a shoe. I knew we didn’t have any telephones in any train compartments.
Max: All right, now you know. Will you please get off the line, Operator? This is a private conversation.
Operator: Is that your shoe or our shoe?
Max: It’s my shoe.
Chief: Sorry to dispute you, Max. But, actually, that isn’t your shoe. We lease that shoe from the Telephone Company.
Max: Maybe so. But I keep it under my bed. That should give me some rights.
Operator: It’s our shoe, so I can listen to your conversation.
Max: Chief, couldn’t you arrange to buy this shoe from the Telephone Company?
Chief: They won’t sell, Max.
Max: Why not?
Chief: They don’t want to break up a pair.
Max: Oh. Well… I can understand that.
Chief: Max, has Peaches broken the code yet?
Max: I’m afraid Peaches has lost interest in the code, Chief. Our hard-hearted Hannah has turned into a soft-headed Susie. If you know what I mean.
Chief: No, Max, I don’t know what you mean.
Operator: Me, neither.
Max: Well, folks, what I mean is, our Peaches has gone soft. She thinks we’re doomed, and she wants to live a little before she goes. Her only interest at the moment is Romance.
Operator: With a capital ‘R’? Good for her.
Chief: Well, I guess you’ll just have to make the best of it, Max. Try breaking the code yourself.
Max: I’m one step ahead of you, Chief.
Operator: In our shoe? Watch where you step in that shoe.
Max: As I was saying, Chief, I’m already at work on the code. Do you see any connection between Papa Bear and Dooms Day?
Chief: No, I don’t, Max. How did you arrive at Papa Bear?
Max: It wasn’t easy. I started with money. That gave me Goldilocks. And Goldilocks suggested Papa Bear.
Operator: Why Papa Bear? Why not all three of the bears?
Max: Because Noman is a male. And Papa Bear is a male.
Operator: Maybe Baby Bear was a male, too. I think you picked the wrong bear.
Max: You may be right, Operator. Let’s see… Baby Bear. Or, if you turn that around, you get Bear Baby. Or, to put it another way, bare baby. And all newly-born babies are bare. So, what we’re looking for is-no, I don’t think that’s it.
Chief: Max, keep working on it. I know you’ll come up with something. And… keep in touch.
Operator: Don’t encourage him to make a lot of calls, Chief. We don’t want him to wear out our shoe.
Chief: Good-by, Max.
Max: So long, Chief.
Operator: Keep your laces tight, Max.
Max put his shoe back on.
“That was the Chief,” he said to Peaches. “And the Operator,” he added.
“Shhh! I’m thinking.”
Max looked out the window. “Well, we’re on our way,” he said. “We’ve left the station.”
“Will you stop bothering me with trifling little details,” Peaches said. “I’m trying to-”
She was interrupted as the door of the compartment opened and the porter stepped in. He was holding a gun. And he quickly closed the door behind him.
“If you’re peddling guns, we don’t want any,” Max said, annoyed.
“Max!” Peaches shrieked. “It’s Noman!”
Noman smiled. “I would have been around sooner,” he said, “but I didn’t want to interrupt while you were on the shoe.”
“A fellow with good shoe manners can’t be all bad,” Max said. “Noman, let’s make a deal. Let me keep the Dooms Day Plan, and I’ll try to talk the Chief into giving you a job at Control. There are a lot of benefits connected with being on the side of the Good Guys.”
“Like what?” Noman asked.
“Peace of mind.”
“At KAOS we get three weeks vacation after twelve years.”
“Well, at Control we get a sense of accomplishment.”
“We get time-and-a-half for overtime. And overtime is any time after we sight our victim.”
“We have a friendly atmosphere,” Max responded.
“Our cafeteria serves chocolate sauce on the ice cream,” Noman said. “Even on the chocolate ice cream.”
“Well, I can’t match that,” Max admitted. “I guess you’ll just have to go your way, and I’ll go mine.” He stepped toward the door. “Excuse me-I’ll go mine.”
Noman pressed the pistol against his abdomen. “You can go your way,” he said, “but you’ll go feet first if you don’t hand over that Plan.”
Max backed away. “I can’t give you the Plan,” he said. “If I did, you’d rush out that door with it, and I’d never see it again.”
Noman smiled craftily. “Suppose I promised not to rush out the door with it?”
Max considered. “That throws a different light on the situation,” he said. “But how do I know I can trust you?”
“How do I know I can trust you?” Noman replied. “I’m taking as big a chance as you are. But I’m willing. I guess it’s a matter of basic character-you either trust people or you don’t.”
“You put me to shame,” Max said. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“Then it’s a deal?”
“Right. I’ll hand over the Plan. And you’ll promise not to rush out the door with it.”
“Shake,” Noman said.
They shook hands, then Max reached into his pocket and pulled out the Plan and handed it over to Noman. “A promise is a promise,” he reminded him.
Noman grinned evilly, taking the Plan. “Right,” he said. “But I didn’t promise not to jump out the window!”
Max looked disappointed. “Once a KAOS agent, always a KAOS agent,” he said.
Holding the gun on Max, Noman moved around to the window. With his back to it, he opened it.
“So long, sucker!” he laughed derisively.
“Happy landing,” Max said.
Noman threw himself backward through the opening and disappeared.
A second later a face appeared-the face of Agent 44.
“Good work, 44,” Max said. “You snatched the Plan from him as he hurtled past, of course.”
“The Plan and something else,” 44 said, handing in two sheets of paper.
“My list!” Peaches cried happily, leaping up.
Max accepted the two sheets of paper from 44 and handed one of them to Peaches.
“This isn’t my list!” she said angrily, throwing the sheet of paper to the floor.
“Here!” Max said, giving her the other sheet of paper. “That one is the Plan,” he said, picking it up.
“How could you mistake my lovely list for your horrid old Plan!” Peaches exclaimed, hugging her list to her bosom. “They should have named you Max Dumb.”
Max turned back to Agent 44. “Thanks again,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”
Agent 44 disappeared.
Max faced back to Peaches. “Did you notice how I maneuvered Noman into using the window-where I knew 44 would be waiting?” he said. “What was so dumb about that?”
“He’s just dumber than you are,” Peaches grumbled. “He should have been named Nobody.”
“Well, he’s Nowhere now.”
“Want to bet?” Peaches said. “I’ll bet he’s back on the train right now. And I’ll bet he’ll be back here with his gun before you can say ‘Jack Robinson.’ ”
“Jack Robinson!” Max snapped. He looked around. “Ha! He’s not here. You lose.”
“I’ll still bet he’s back on the train.”
“That bet I won’t take,” Max said. “And, just to make sure he won’t find us here when he comes back, I think we’d better go to the lounge car. If we surround ourselves with loungers, he won’t dare try anything.”
Peaches leaped up again, excited. “Isn’t that where the romantic strangers are?”
“There may be one or two,” Max replied. “However, I think you’ll probably find more stationery salesmen than romantic strangers.”
“I’ll chance it,” Peaches said. “Let’s go.”
Peaches led the way this time, and Max had to trot to keep up with her. When they reached the lounge, where a number of passengers were seated in lounge chairs, Peaches rushed forward and addressed the first man she came to.
“Are you a stationery salesman?” she asked.
“No, I’m a traveling salesman,” he replied. “I move around quite a bit.”
“I don’t mean stationary like standing still,” she said, “I mean stationery like writing letters.”
“I write home-to the wife and kiddies,” the man replied.
“Then you’re not a romantic stranger,” Peaches said disappointedly.
At that moment, Max caught up with her. “Try that fellow down there,” he said, pointing.
“Where?”
“At the other end of the car,” Max said. “That pleasingly plump fellow who looks like a typical romantic stranger.”
“Oh, him! Yes, he does look typical,” Peaches said.
She rushed off, headed for the far end of the car, and Max tagged after her.
When she reached the man, Peaches dropped into the vacant seat next to him. The man was reading a newspaper. But Peaches dug him in the ribs with an elbow, then, when he looked up, she fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Hello, there!” the man beamed.
“I don’t speak to strangers,” Peaches replied.
“Oh. I thought that dig in the ribs was an introduction.”
“That was a slip of the elbow-purely unintentional,” Peaches said. “But, if you want to introduce yourself, then we’d be introduced.”
The romantic stranger smiled romantically. “You can just call me The Romantic Stranger,” he said. “Or, TRS, for short.”
At that moment, Max arrived. “Excuse me,” he said to the man. “May I sit on the other side of you? You see, I’m sort of responsible for this young lady.”
“Welcome, welcome,” TRS said.
But Peaches wasn’t exactly pleased. “Max, why don’t you go up to the engine?” she asked. “The engineer may need your help to get the train to New York. He may not know the way.”
“What could I tell him? Except, ‘Follow the tracks.’ ”
“You could run ahead and show him the way,” Peaches said.
Max sat down in the empty seat. “No, I think I’ll just stay here and see what I can do about this code.”
“You have a code?” TRS said. “I suggest that you take a couple aspirins, drink lots of water, and get lots of rest.”
“Code,” Max replied. “Not cold.”
“Oh-code.” TRS seemed interested. “Like secret code?”
“I can’t answer that,” Max replied. “It’s top secret.”
“Just keep it that way,” Peaches said to Max. “We don’t want to hear anything more about it.” She smiled at TRS. “I suppose you have a lot of outrageous lies you’d like to tell me,” she said.
“You mean, things like, ‘You’re gorgeous, you’re beautiful, and we were meant for each other’?”
“No, lies,” she replied. “Things like-”
“The Three Bears have stuffed Goldilocks into a Trojan horse,” Max mused.
“That sounds like a lie to me, all right,” TRS said.
“Max, will you keep out of our conversation!” Peaches complained.
“I didn’t know I was in it,” Max said. “I was simply working on the code.”
“Perhaps I could help you,” TRS said.
“You’re with me!” Peaches snapped at him. “Now, tell me some outrageous lies or I’ll-”
“Blow up the world with three bombs planted in a watch,” Max said.
TRS turned to Peaches. “You’d do that?”
“He said that-I didn’t.”
TRS faced back to Max. “You’d do that?”
“Not me,” Max said. “But somebody would.” He showed the Plan to TRS. “See this? This is a Dooms Day Plan. But it’s in code. We won’t know exactly what it means until we break the code.”
TRS started to reach for the Plan. But Peaches reached first and pushed it away. “You don’t want to look at that,” she said. She showed him her list. “Look at this. This is really interesting. See that? Trip to Bermuda. Candlelight. Three coins in the fountain.”
“Yes, I see,” TRS said. “It’s also in code, eh?”
“No, no, these are my romantic things to do.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him again. “But it wouldn’t be much fun doing these things alone. Do you have any suggestions?”
“I do,” Max said. “Do you have a maiden aunt you could take along with you? You’ll need a chaperone.”
“Nobody asked you!”
“If I waited to be asked,” Max replied, “I’d never get to say anything.”
“Speaking of three coins in the fountain,” TRS said, “could I see that Plan again?”
Max looked at him puzzledly. “I don’t get the connection.”
“Plan is the key word,” TRS replied. “If you’re going to throw three-exactly three-coins in the fountain, obviously you’re following some preconceived plan. Otherwise, you might throw one, or six, or ten, or two. Clear?”
Max nodded. He showed the Plan to TRS again.
“Could I hold it in my own hands?” TRS asked.
Max shook his head. “I don’t dare lose it. It’s the only copy in existence.”
“I would be very careful with it.”
Max shook his head again.
“You can hold my list in your hands,” Peaches said to TRS.
“It wouldn’t be the same,” TRS smiled.
Peaches scooched down in her chair, pouting.
“You know,” TRS said to Max, “I just may be able to decode this plan for you. It so happens that I’m a traveling computer salesman. And I happen to have a computer with me.”
Max looked him up and down. “Tiny, isn’t it?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. It’s a miniature computer. But I don’t have it on me. It’s in my compartment.”
Max studied him suspiciously. “A computer salesman, eh? That’s quite a coincidence-since a computer may be just the thing I need to break this code.”
“I think that’s approximately what I said.”
“Yes… quite a coincidence.” Max looked at him narrowly. “Has your miniature computer had any experience in breaking codes?”
“No. But it performs wonders. I’m sure it would have no trouble with the code.”
“What wonders, for instance?”
“Oh, well, for instance, I suppose you’ve heard about computers that match up men and women, find the perfect mates for them. Well, this computer takes that one step further. It finds the perfect mates for other computers.”
“Hmmmm… sort of a computer’s computer, eh?”
“Exactly.”
“That sounds promising,” Max said.
“Promise me something,” Peaches said to TRS. “Promise me anything!”
He ignored her. “Shall we go to my compartment?” he said to Max.
Peaches leaped to her feet. “Is that a promise?”
“Maybe you better wait here,” Max said to her. “If you act like this in a lounge car with a romantic stranger, heaven only knows how you’ll act in a compartment with a romantic computer.”
“There’s no worry,” TRS said. “My computer is all business.”
“In that case,” Max said, rising, “lead the way.”
TRS got to his feet and walked toward the door of the lounge car. Max and Peaches followed closely at his heels.
“Does this computer have a name?” Peaches asked.
“Sam Schwartz,” TRS replied.
“Good gracious! How did that happen?”
“Well, Schwartz is the family name. And he was named after an uncle. Uncle-”
“Sam,” Peaches nodded.
“Correct.”
They reached the door. TRS opened it, and Max and Peaches stepped out into the area between the cars.
“This is far enough,” TRS said, joining them and closing the door behind him.
Max looked around at the small space. “Is this the best compartment you could get?” he said. “You must have an even more limited expense account than I do.”
“This isn’t a compartment, you fool!” TRS snarled. “We’re standing between two cars.”
Max frowned. “What happened to your friendly, helpful attitude?”
TRS pulled a gun. “Guess.”
“Noman!” Peaches shrieked.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Max said. “He may be only an unusually cantankerous computer salesman.”
“No, she’s right,” Noman said. “I’m Noman, all right.”
“I suppose you have some means of identification,” Max said doubtfully.
Noman pressed the gun against Max’s abdomen.
Max nodded. “Yes, you’re Noman, all right. I remember your technique. I sometimes forget a face, but I never forget a technique.”
“Hand over the Plan!” Noman said menacingly.
“Wouldn’t you rather have a nice long list of romantic things to do?” Max replied. “The list doesn’t have to be decoded. Think of all the time you’d save. And time is money. Think of it as a bribe.”
“Hand over the Plan!” Noman said again, this time more menacingly.
“What’s the other choice?” Max asked.
“If you hand over the Plan now,” Noman replied, “I’ll go easy on you. I’ll wait until the train reaches a tunnel, then I’ll shove you out the door.”
“I see-that’s the easy way. Now, what’s the hard way?”
“If you don’t hand over the Plan, I’ll shoot you both and take it anyway.”
“In that case, I think we’ll take the easy way out,” Max said.
“Then hand over the Plan!”
“Not so fast,” Max said. “I’ll hand over the Plan when we reach the tunnel. Strange as it may seem, Noman, I don’t entirely trust you. If I handed you the Plan now, you might not stick around to shove us out the door when we come to the tunnel.”
Noman sighed. “Oh, all right. But your lack of faith in your fellow man is certainly disheartening.”
“When you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you get a lit-tle cynical,” Max replied.
The door of the lounge car opened and the conductor stepped out.
“Excuse me, Conductor,” Max said. “But when do we come to the next tunnel?”
The conductor got out his watch. “Oh, in about-”
“Max! Tell him!” Peaches said.
Max looked at her blankly. “Tell him what?”
“Tell him that You-know-who has a you-know-what!”
“Peaches, you’re not making any sense.”
“Noman! Gun!”
“Oh… that.” Max turned back to the conductor. “Conductor, it is my duty as a passenger on this train to tell you that Noman has a gun.”
“Glad to hear it,” the conductor replied. “If there was a man on this train with a gun, I’d toss him off.” He moved on. “The next tunnel will be along in about two minutes,” he said, entering the next car. The door closed behind him.
“Well, I tried,” Max said.
“And nicely, too,” Noman said. “My heart was in my mouth. But.. you failed. So, get ready to jump!”
“Ready?” Max said to Peaches.
“Ready,” she whined.
“Just one other thing-the Plan,” Noman said.
“Oh… yes… sorry.” Max handed over the Plan. “In times of stress like this,” he apologized, “I sometimes overlook the small details.”
“We’re coming to the tunnel!” Noman warned.
“Will it be dark?” Max asked.
“I hope so,” Noman replied. “I couldn’t stand to see it.”
Ahead, the engine tooted.
“This is it!” Noman said.
They were suddenly plunged into total darkness.
“Now!” Noman cried.
Max and Peaches, hand in hand, jumped!
“We seem to have landed on moving ground,” Max said.
“I have that sensation, too,” Peaches replied.
Then there was light.
Max and Peaches looked around.
“We’re in a box car,” Max said.
“It’s a miracle!” Peaches enthused. “Our train must have been passing a freight train in that tunnel. And when we jumped, we jumped into the open top of this box car.”
“I wonder where it’s headed?” Max said.
“Well, it’s going in the opposite direction from the passenger train. So it must be headed for- Oh, Max, no!”
Max sighed deeply. “Back to Washington!”
“And Noman is headed for New York!”
“Yes,” Max smiled, “but empty-handed.”
“What do you mean?”
“When the lights went out,” Max explained, “I reached out and snatched. And I have here-” He held up a sheet of paper. “I have here-” Looking at the paper, his expression changed, losing its smile. “I have here your list of romantic things to do,” he finished sorrowfully.
“But, Max, you couldn’t have my list.”
“How’s that?”
“Because, well, when I felt someone snatch my list, I snatched back. And I have it right here.” She showed him a sheet of paper.
Max looked at it. His smile returned. “You got the Plan,” he told her.
She shoved the sheet of paper at him. “Take it! Give me my valuable list!”
They exchanged sheets of paper.
“I better report in to the Chief,” Max said. “A lot has happened since we last talked.”
“I wouldn’t tell him where we’re headed, if I were you,” Peaches said. “He’s liable to lose confidence in you.”
“That’s not likely,” Max said, removing his shoe. “The fact that we’re on our way back to where we started is only a minor episode in this broad panorama of intrigue. It could happen to anybody,” he said, dialing.
Operator: Cut it out, Max. A compartment on a train was hard enough to believe. But a box car?
Max: Where I go, my shoe goes.
Operator: Our shoe. And we don’t appreciate your wearing it in a box car. How do we know what’s been carried in that box car?
Max: I promise to keep it off the floor.
Operator: I’d like to see that.
Max: Operator, will you please put me through to the Chief? He worries.
Operator: So do we. You could ruin that shoe, the places you take it.
Max: Operator… please…
Operator: Don’t get itchy.
(Pause)
Chief: Is that you, Max? Where are you now?
Max: I’m happy to report, Chief, that Peaches and I are aboard a train.
Chief: Good. The Trans-Siberian Railway, I assume.
Operator: Ha!
Max: Not exactly, Chief. But that’s close-in a sense.
Chief: If you’re not in Russia aboard the Trans-Siberian Railway, Max, then where are you?
Max: Sorry, Chief, that’s classified information.
Chief: Oh. Well then, can you give me a hint? What do you see when you look out the window?
Operator: Who ever heard of windows in a box car?
Chief: Max… did she say box car?
Max: She said ‘lox car,’ Chief. You know how some pullman cars are named after states and cities? For instance, ‘The Spirit of St. Louis’? Well, this pullman was named after a specialty at a corner delicatessen.
Chief: That’s hard to believe, Max.
Max: Would you believe ‘sox car’? That it was named after a fellow whose first name was Bobby?
Chief: I don’t think so, Max.
Max: How about ‘pox car’? That it was named after a chicken?
Chief: Max, tell me, truthfully, what do you see when you look out the doorway of your box car?
Max: Well, a tall, skinny monument, for one thing, Chief.
Chief: And what might the name of that tall, skinny monument be, Max?
Max: Sam Schwartz?
Chief: Is it named after the Father of our Country, Max?
Max: Is Sam Schwartz the Father of our Country, Chief? That comes as a great surprise to me. I’ve always thought it was George Washington. Well, live and learn.
Chief: You just said it, Max. Now, admit it, you’re back in Washington, aren’t you?
Max: Not quite, Chief. But ask me that question again in about ten minutes and I think I can give you an affirmative reply.
Chief: Max, it’s mid-afternoon, and you’ve been trying to get out of Washington since early morning. What happened?
Max: Would you believe a wrong turn, Chief?
Chief: Don’t start that again, Max. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed in you. I gave you the Dooms Day Plan and told you to run, and you’re still in town.
Max: Chief, would you believe that the lights have been against me?
Chief: Stop it, Max. Tell me what really happened.
Max: Oh, all right. In the first place, we got aboard a plane that was flying in circles. In the second place, we drove the wrong way on a two-way highway. In the third place, we jumped into a freight train that was headed in the opposite direction. There, now, that’s the truth.
Chief: Why didn’t you say so? That could happen to anybody, Max.
Operator: Anybody like him, it could. He couldn’t find his own foot with our shoe.
Max: Well, Chief, I’m sure it will be all clear sailing from now on.
Chief: What makes you so sure, Max?
Max: Because when this freight train gets to Washington, we intend to take an excursion boat to New York.
Operator: They’ll never let you on the bus with it.
Max: I think we’ve run that gag into the ground, Operator. Will you drop it, please?
Operator: All right. But it’ll make an awful splash.
Max: Chief, I can’t talk to you any more. There’s too much interference.
Chief: Just one thing, Max. Have you deciphered the code yet?
Max: No, Chief. But I expect to have the answer very soon. I’m going to begin using Peaches’ system of transposing the letters into numbers, and the numbers into letters, and the letters into- Well, you get the idea.
Chief: Good luck, Max.
Max: 9-12-12 14-5-5-4 9-20, Chief.
Chief: What does that mean, Max?
Max: It means, ‘I’ll need it,’ in code, Chief.
Max put his shoe back on his foot.
“I heard what you said, and I think it’s just wonderful!” Peaches gushed.
“I did transpose those letters into numbers pretty quickly,” Max replied. “But ‘wonderful’ is rather strong. Impressive, yes-but wonderful? I think that’s putting it on a bit thick.”
“No, no, no, no, no! I mean the news that we’re going on an excursion. That’s very romantic!”
“Yes, going by boat has its advantages,” Max admitted. “That way, getting there is half the fun.” He scowled. “Unfortunately, coming back is pure misery.”