Max, 99 and Hassan pushed on into the jungle. But after a few minutes, Max called for a rest period. And when they stopped, he sat down on a small mound and removed his telephone shoe.
“What now, Max?” 99 asked.
“There’s something I have to find out,” Max replied, dialing.
Chief: Control, here. Chief, speaking.
Max: Chief, did you call me a while back? My shoe was ringing, but I was tied up and couldn’t answer it.
Chief: Who had you tied up, Max? Are you free now?
Max: I don’t mean that I was actually tied up, Chief. I mean I was busy.
Chief: Max, how could you be too busy to answer your shoe? It only takes one hand.
Max: Before this goes any further, Chief, would you just answer my question? Did you phone me a few minutes ago?
Operator: He refuses to answer that question on the grounds that you are unfair to Arnold.
Max: Operator, how could I be unfair to Arnold? I don’t even know Arnold. I only met Arnold once with his mother.
Operator: Have you got yourself trampled by an elephant yet?
Max: Well. . frankly, no.
Operator: I ask you-is that unfair or is that unfair? How can Arnold take your place if you’re still around? He just wouldn’t feel right about it. You’d be hanging around, watching everything he did, trying to catch him in a mistake. Max, this boy wants to make good, but you just won’t let him. Is that fair?
Chief: Operator, I think you’re being a bit premature. Your brother-in-law hasn’t even appeared to fill out an application yet.
Operator: You must be wrong, Chief. Have you looked under your desk? Arnold is sometimes a little shy.
Chief: He’s not under my desk. He’s not anywhere around.
Operator: He’s there. Max saw him enter the building-didn’t you, Max?
Max: She’s right about that, Chief-I did.
Chief: Then where is he? It’s no more than a hundred feet or so from the entrance of the building to my office.
Operator: It’s only been three days-give him a chance.
Max: Frankly, Operator, I think it’s Arnold’s mother who wants him to be a secret agent, not Arnold. And you. You and his mother are pushing him into this.
Operator: Pooh! If he doesn’t want to be a secret agent, what does he want to be?
Max: Missing. And I think he’s achieved his goal.
Operator: Sorry, sir, your time is up. Deposit another seven thousand dollars, consisting of the following combination of coins: twelve French francs, seventeen Czechoslovakian halerus, eleven Turkish kurus, nine Russian-
Max: Operator, stop it! In the first place, this isn’t a pay shoe. And in the second place, you’re just looking for an excuse to cut me off because of what I said about you and Arnold’s mother. The truth is, Operator, the truth hurts!
Operator: Seven thousand dollars in unissued foreign coins, Max! Put up or shut up!
Max: I protest! Let me talk to your Supervisor!
Operator: No can do, Max. All protests have to be submitted in writing. Where’s that seven thou?
Max: Operator, would you settle for my Diners’ Club Card?
Operator: Cash on the barrelhead, Max. Sorry about that.
The line went dead.
Max sighed sadly, then put his shoe back on his foot.
“Bad news, Max?” 99 said sympathetically.
“No. Not if no news is good news,” Max replied. “But I still don’t know who it was who called me when we were floating down the river on that plastic raft. .”
“Max, I told you, if it was important, whoever it was will call you back.”
Max turned to Hassan. “Hassan, it wasn’t you, by any chance, who called me, was it?”
“I was there on the raft with you,” Hassan replied.
“I know. But I don’t want to leave any possibilities unturned.”
“Max. .” 99 said, lowering her voice and glancing around the perimeter of the clearing.
“99, fess up, now, was it you who called me?”
“Max,” 99 replied, still speaking softly, “number one, I was on the raft with you, too. And, number two, I didn’t have a phone. But, Max-”
“I have two shoes, you know,” Max said. “You could have been using the extension.”
“Max, it wasn’t me who called you. Will you forget about that call? Max, I think we’re in jeopardy.”
“Nonsense, 99. I’m sure we’re still in New Ghirzy. If we’d crossed over into Jeopardy, I’m positive we’d have seen some border guards.”
“Max, I mean we’re in danger. We’re surrounded by a band of evil-looking cutthroats. They’re hiding in the underbrush. I just caught a glimpse of several of them.”
Coolly, Max glanced about. “Yes, I see them,” he said, speaking softly. “And I think you’re right, 99. They do look like Jeopardyians.”
“Max, jeopardy means danger.”
“I don’t care if they did get their independence and change the name of their country, 99, they’re still Jeopardyians to me.”
“Well, Hassan,” Max said. “Time for another miracle.”
“You got yourself into this,” Hassan replied. “Get yourself out.”
“Hassan, in the name of-”
A wild cry suddenly issued from the underbrush. A band of about a half-dozen evil-looking cutthroats, brandishing pistols, leaped from hiding places and surrounded Max, 99 and Hassan.
“If you’re the welcoming committee from the Chamber of Commerce, I’ll tell you right now, your technique could use some polishing,” Max said.
“Silence!” the head cutthroat commanded.
“It’s a very small person who can’t take criticism,” Max pouted. “You know, we grow in both efficiency and proficiency by having our mistakes pointed out to us.”
“Siiiiiilence!” the head cutthroat shrieked.
“Otherwise, we become soreheads,” Max muttered.
“Bind them and blindfold them,” the head cutthroat ordered his cohorts.
Working efficiently and proficiently, the men tied Max’s, 99’s and Hassan’s hands behind their backs, then placed blindfolds over their eyes.
“I’ll tell you another thing, if you’re trying to encourage the tourist trade, this is no way to do it,” Max said.
One of the cutthroats stuffed a gag into Max’s mouth.
“Mrbmfph!” Max protested.
The cutthroats led Max, 99 and Hassan stumbling through the jungle. After about a half-hour’s travel they halted, and removed the blindfolds-and the gag from Max’s mouth. The three found themselves standing at the doorway to a crude grass hut. Then they were rudely shoved inside.
An African, seated behind a rough wooden table, and wearing a bushy black beard, and dressed in khaki, greeted them with a snarling accusation. “Spies!”
“Is that what those fellows are?” Max said. “When they tied us up and put blindfolds on us, I guessed they were up to no good. But I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.”
“Not them, you spy!” the man thundered. “Those men are my loyal followers. I am Freddy Fitz-Hugh, III, Generalissimo of the Grand Revolution! You are the spies!”
Max peered at him closely. “Freddy Fitz-Hugh, III?”
“It’s not my real name,” Fitz-Hugh admitted. “I was born Lester Mdunboto-which, in my tongue, means ‘lightning that sometimes strikes twice in the same place.’ But Freddy Fitz-Hugh, III, has more of a revolutionary sound to it, don’t you think?”
Max shook his head. “No.”
Fitz-Hugh glared at him, then called one of his followers into the hut. “This spy just disagreed with me,” he said. “Make a note of that. It’s evidence.”
The follower got out a notepad and pencil and sat down at the table and scribbled a notation.
“Who is paying you to spy on us?” Fitz-Hugh demanded of Max.
“Spy? We’re not spies.”
Fitz-Hugh turned to his follower. “He’s lying. Make a note of that. It’s evidence.” Then, again, he faced Max. “If you’re not spies, what are you?”
“It so happens that we’re secret agents, assigned to Control, and here on a secret mission,” Max replied.
Hassan stepped forward. “Not me. I’m just an innocent bystander. I’ve never seen these two spies before in my life. You see, I was making the rounds of my customers-I’m a dealer in chain-driven saxophones-when suddenly these two spies appeared out of nowhere and asked directions. Well-”
“When I want a confession, I’ll torture you for it!” Fitz-Hugh interrupted. He turned to his follower once more. “Giving directions to spies,” he said. “That’s treason. It’s also evidence, so make a note of it.”
“I object!” Max said. “You’re twisting everything we say!”
“Where else are we going to get evidence when we don’t have any facts?” Fitz-Hugh replied. “This is a court of law. You wouldn’t suggest that we make a judgment without having any evidence, would you? I thought you Americans were supposed to be so hot for justice.”
“He’s got you there,” Hassan said to Max.
Fitz-Hugh pounded a fist on the table. “Having considered the evidence, this court finds the defendants guilty-as-charged,” he said. “Now, if you three will just make a confession, we can execute you, and get on to more important things-the Grand Revolution.”
“Is a confession really necessary?” Max asked.
“It makes it neater.”
“I know, but is there any other choice?”
“Well, you can either confess straight-out, or we can torture you for a while, until you confess, and then execute you. But we prefer the straight-out confession. It saves time. And when you’re running a Grand Revolution, every minute counts.”
“About that torture,” Max said. “What’s the usual procedure?”
“Toothpicks under the fingernails,” Fitz-Hugh replied. “Except that, at the moment, we’re fresh out of toothpicks.”
“Doesn’t that smack of sloppy organization?” Max said.
“It’s one of the drawbacks when you’re running a Grand Revolution and there’s a price on your head,” Fitz-Hugh explained. “It’s hard to get into town to shop.” He smiled. “But, we make-do. Instead of toothpicks, we use match sticks, whittled to a sharp point.”
“Speaking for myself,” Max decided, “I think I’ll skip the torture and go right on to the confession. Where do I sign?”
Fitz-Hugh smiled slyly. “Of course. . there is one other alternative. .”
“We’ll take it,” Max said.
“Max. . shouldn’t we hear what it is first?” 99 said.
“99, the other choices are match sticks under the fingernails and execution. Could it possibly be any worse?”
“I guess you’re right, Max.”
“The other alternative is, you can join the Revolution,” Fitz-Hugh said.
“Well, normally, I’m not a joiner,” Max said. “But, if you’ve got a cause that I can believe in, I see no reason why I shouldn’t make an exception in this case. What is your cause?”
“ ’Cause we want to overthrow the present government,” Fitz-Hugh replied.
“For any particular reason? Or do you just have a lot of leisure time on your hands?”
“For the best reason in the world,” Fitz-Hugh replied. “It’s time for a change. The present government has been in office for going on three weeks now. It’s shot through with graft and corruption. The officials are getting rich.”
“I see. So, now you figure it’s your turn.”
“Right. Let them hole up out here in the jungle for a while and see how they like it, not being able to go into town and shop.”
“Well, compared to match sticks under the fingernails, that certainly is a worthy cause,” Max said. “I, for one, am with you.”
“Me, too, I guess,” 99 said. “If Max thinks it’s right.”
“I’ve always been loyal to the cause,” Hassan said. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the Grand Revolution-unless, of course, it involved physical exertion. You see,” he said, putting his hands on his waist and wincing, “I have this bad back.”
“I know what you mean,” Fitz-Hugh said. “Myself, I have a trick knee. That’s why I don’t go out on dangerous assignments.” He turned to Max. “And, speaking of dangerous assignments,” he said, “At this very moment, I happen to be in need of a volunteer for a dangerous assignment.”
“Too bad,” Max said. “It so happens that I happen to have a physical problem myself. I suffer from sticky eyelids.”
“Coward!” Hassan sneered.
“Slacker!” Fitz-Hugh sneered.
“Chicken!” 99 sneered.
“99!”
“Sorry, Max.”
“My greatest desire is to volunteer for this assignment,” Fitz-Hugh said. “But there’s my trick knee.”
“All my life I’ve been grooming myself for this dangerous assignment,” Hassan said. “But, with my bad back, I’d muff it. For the Glory of the Grand Revolution, I’ll have to volunteer not to volunteer.”
“99, how about you?” Max said. ‘You don’t have a bad back. Or a trick knee.”
“Max, I’m a girl.”
“That’s even worse than having a bad back,” Hassan said. “With a bad back, you can at least put on a mustard plaster. But if you’re a girl, nothing will help.”
“Be on somebody else’s side,” 99 said testily.
Max shrugged. “All right, I guess I’m elected. Not that I really mind. It just so happens that danger is my bread and butter.”
“Fattening, eh?” Fitz-Hugh said. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that this time. There’s very little chance that you’ll come out of this assignment alive. So, big deal if you put on a few pounds.”
“What exactly is the assignment?” Max said.
“You’ll make a delivery to the Government Building,” Fitz-Hugh replied.
“Well, that seems simple enough. What will I deliver?”
“A bomb.” Fitz-Hugh turned to his follower. “Bring in the bomb,” he said.
The follower left, and returned a few seconds later with a basket of fruit. There was a bomb in the center of it.
“Isn’t that a little obvious?” Max said. “Won’t the guards at the Government Building get a little suspicious when they see that bomb in the middle of the basket of fruit?”
“Naturally,” Fitz-Hugh replied. “That’s what we want. You see, it’s not the bomb that’s really a bomb. The bomb is only a decoy.”
“Oh.”
“When you enter the Government Building, of course, a guard will see the bomb in the middle of the basket of fruit,” Fitz-Hugh went on. “He’ll stop you and say, ‘Excuse me, sir, but isn’t that a bomb you have there in the middle of that basket of fruit?’ And you’ll reply, ‘Well, bless me, so it is. I wonder how that got in there?’ Then the guard will say, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but there’s a rule against carrying bombs into the Government Building.’ At which point, you will take the bomb from the basket and hand it to the guard and say, ‘Well, I certainly don’t want to break a rule, so will you hold this for me until I come out?’ The guard, of course-”
“Don’t tell me,” Max interrupted. “The guard will accept the bomb, and I’ll rush out of the building, and a moment later the bomb will explode-right?”
Fitz-Hugh shook his head. “All wrong. You haven’t been listening. I told you-the bomb isn’t a bomb. It’s a decoy. You see, when the guard takes the bomb from you, he’ll think it’s safe to let you enter the building-little knowing that it is really the banana that is the bomb.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Fitz-Hugh’s follower said. “It’s the apple that’s the bomb.”
Fitz-Hugh glared at him. “It’s the banana-or maybe the orange. But not the apple.”
“I’m positive, sir, it’s the-”
“Who’s Generalissimo around here!” Fitz-Hugh raged.
The follower cringed. “I’m sorry, sir. You’re absolutely right-it’s the banana.” Then, lowering his voice, he said to Max, “But I wouldn’t try to peel that apple, if I were you.”
“Never mind the details right now,” Max said to Fitz-Hugh. “Just give me the general plot. What happens after I get by the guard?”
“You enter the building,” Fitz-Hugh said, “and you, quick-like, pull the stem out of the banana. That detonates the bomb.”
“Generalissimo,” 99 said, “a banana doesn’t have the kind of stem you can pull out.”
“Then try the orange,” Fitz-Hugh said. He shot a quick, antagonistic look at his follower. “But not the apple,” he said to Max. “Let’s not have any question about who’s Generalissimo around here.”
“Right. I pull the stem from the orange. Then I put it down somewhere. And while the delayed-action timer ticks away, I make a hasty escape.”
“What delayed-action timer?” Fitz-Hugh said. “The bomb goes off instantly. When you’re running a revolution, there’s no time to waste, every minute counts.”
“Uh. . then how do I get out?” Max said.
“Through the roof.”
“Do you mean to say that there’s actually no chance of me getting out of there alive?”
“Welllll. . that depends. How good a runner are you?”
“Not that fast,” Max replied. “I’m afraid, Generalissimo, I’m beginning not to care much for this assignment.”
“It’s a great opportunity for you,” Fitz-Hugh said. “You’ll meet a lot of highly-placed people on your way up through the roof. I’d give a year of one of my follower’s salary to have the chance that you’re getting. But. . my trick knee, you know.”
“Maybe you’d like to go along for the ride,” Max said. “I could make room for you.”
Fitz-Hugh shook his head. “It’s your honor. I wouldn’t dream of butting in.”
“Me, neither,” Hassan said. “My trick knee, you know.”
“No, you’re the one who has the bad back,” Max said. He reached into the basket and picked up the orange. “Let me get this straight, now,” he said. “I walk up to the guard-”
“No, no,” Fitz-Hugh said, “you let the guard stop you. Don’t walk up to him. That would make him suspicious.”
“Okay. I let the guard stop me, then I hand him this orange. As soon as-”
“Max, no,” 99 said. “You don’t hand him the orange. You let him see the bomb.”
“That’s almost what I said, 99. The orange is the bomb.”
“No, I think the banana is the bomb,” Hassan said.
“Just a minute!” Fitz-Hugh shouted. “You don’t let him see the orange-or the banana, as the case may be-that’s really a bomb. You let him see the bomb that isn’t a bomb.”
“Oh, yes, I remember now,” Max said. “I let him see the bomb that isn’t a bomb, and he says to me, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but it’s against the rule to carry a banana into the Government Building.’ So, I hand him-”
“No, Max,” 99 said, shaking her head.
“I carry the guard into the Government Building?”
“Uh-uh, Max.”
“The guard carries me into the Government Building?”
Fitz-Hugh clasped his head in his hands, groaning. “Why does anybody want to be a Generalissimo? The followers you got to put up with these days, it’s nothing but a headache!”
“I’m sorry,” Max said. “But I’m trying my best. Let me start at the beginning. I approach the Government Building-right?”
“So far, perfect,” Fitz-Hugh replied.
“No, unfortunately, it isn’t,” Max said, looking disappointed in himself. “I forgot to take the basket of fruit. I left it back here on the-”
Fitz-Hugh grabbed up the basket and shoved it into Max’s hands. “Okay! You got the fruit! Start again!” he raged.
Max put the orange back into the basket. “It wouldn’t do to accidentally leave this behind,” he explained. “When I got to the-”
“Start already!”
“Right. Okay, now, I approach the Government Building, basket in hand, and I make sure that the guard spots me. How am I doing?”
“You’re a jewel,” Fitz-Hugh smiled blissfully.
“As soon as the guard spots the bomb, of course, he’ll stop me,” Max went on. “And, being a conscientious civil servant, he’ll explain to me in a kindly and understanding manner that it’s against the rule to carry a bomb into the Government Building. Have I left anything out?”
“Only the mistakes,” Fitz-Hugh beamed. “Go on.”
“Doing his duty as he sees it, the guard will then relieve me of the bomb-the bomb that is not a bomb,” Max continued. “And, being a conscientious revolutionary, I will then- Oh-oh-we’re in trouble.”
“What trouble!” Fitz-Hugh asked through gritted teeth.
“Look,” Max said, “if I know my conscientious civil servants, that guy isn’t going to let me go until he gets a piece of fruit. Suppose he wants an orange? Or a banana?”
“Idiot!” Fitz-Hugh screamed. “Guards don’t eat on duty!”
“He could save it for later. There’s nothing better than a banana right after dinner.”
“Take my word for it!” Fitz-Hugh stormed. “He won’t ask for a piece of fruit! Now, go on!”
“I sort of lost my place,” Max said. “I think I better start at the beginning again.”
“Stupidido!” Fitz-Hugh shrieked. He grabbed the basket of fruit from Max’s hands. “I’ll show you! Step by step, I’ll show you what to do! Now, watch! And remember!”
Max squinted his eyes. “I’m watching.”
Fitz-Hugh stomped up to his follower. “This is the guard,” he said. “He asks me about the bomb in the basket. I tell him the bomb is a surprise to me. He asks me for it. I give it to him.” He handed the bomb to the follower. “Have you got it?” he said to Max.
“No, you gave it to him.”
“I mean, do you understand, so far, what you’re supposed to do?”
“Oh, yes, that. . yes.”
Fitz-Hugh stomped to the door of the hut. “This is the entrance to the Government Building,” he said. “Now, I enter the Government Building.” He stepped out through the doorway into the clearing. “Did you see that?” he called back.
“Got it!” Max replied.
“Now-are you listening?”
“You’re coming in loud and clear.”
“I’m in the Government Building,” Fitz-Hugh said. “I take the orange out of the basket, and-just like this-I pull the stem from the orange. Okay? Clear?”
“It isn’t going to work,” Max said.
“Why not?”
“Did you pull the stem from the orange?”
“Yes. I told you I did.”
“If that orange were a bomb, it would have exploded when you pulled the stem,” Max pointed out.
“Say. . you know, you’re right.”
“Try the banana,” Max suggested.
“You’re right, maybe it’s the banana. I’ll just- No, that didn’t do it, either.”
“How about the apple?” Max called out.
“Never!”
“Ah, come on,” Max urged. “Even a Generalissimo can be wrong once in a while. The thing is to be a big enough man to admit it.”
“Well. .”
“Give it a little pull,” Max said. “What harm could that do?”
“Okay. But only to prove that it isn’t the apple. If a Generalissimo is wrong, he isn’t really a Gen-”
The area was suddenly rocked by a tremendous explosion. Max, 99, and Hassan went flying up through the roof of the hut.
“Max, you tricked him,” 99 said proudly.
“Yes, I did,” Max admitted. “Though, frankly, it was as big a surprise to me as it was to him. All along, I thought it was the banana, not the apple.”
“Luckily, I knew it was the apple all the time,” Hassan said. “What would you two do without me?”
“Hassan is right, 99,” Max said. “We’re very fortunate to have him along.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Max.”
“You will be in a moment.”
“How is that, Max?”
“Because that explosion blew us pret-ty high, and in just a few moments we’re going to hit the ground.”
“I know, Max. But why are we fortunate to have Hassan along?”
“Because, if you will look closely, you will see that Hassan is flying a few feet below us. And when we land he’s going to break our fall.”
99 looked down. “That’s very considerate of you, Hassan,” she said. “I take back all the unkind things I’ve been thinking about you.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Hassan said. “You come down here and let me get up there and you can think anything you want to about me.”
“I couldn’t,” 99 said. “I’m a girl.”
“Then how about this?” Hassan said. “Send Max down. Not only will I give you permission to think anything you want about me, but also I’ll throw in a chain-driven saxophone-the only one of its kind.”
“Well. .”
But the offer was made too late.