As they moved away from the two scientists, 99 suddenly clutched Max’s arm. “Max! Look! Over there! Across the room! A clean-shaven scientist!”
But Max refused to look. “I’ve been rebuffed enough for one day,” he pouted. “No more scientists.”
“But, Max! Clean-shaven!”
Max ventured a peek. “Hmmmmm. You’re right, 99. And, he looks like a good-natured sort, too. Well, all right, we’ll approach him. But he better be in better humor than the other scientists we’ve tackled today. One more icy stare, and I’m going to my stateroom and hide my head and not come out until I get a written apology-in triplicate!”
“Max, don’t be so sensitive.”
“A secret agent has feelings, too, you know.”
“But you’re supposed to hide them, Max.”
“That’s what I intended to do-under a pillow, and not come out until I got a written apology-in triplicate.”
“Look, Max! The clean-shaven scientist! He’s laughing! You’ll like him!”
Max stared at her icily. “99, a secret agent can’t pick and choose. A secret agent has to go anywhere, and meet anybody, and like it. A secret agent can’t afford to have feelings.”
“All right, Max.”
Slowly, inconspicuously, Max, 99 and Fang made their way toward the clean-shaven scientist, who was in conversation with another of the bearded scientists.
When they neared them, the clean-shaven scientist extended a hand to Max, smiling jovially. “Hello there,” he said. “I saw you slowly making your way in this direction. I’m Herbert Wai-pronounced ‘Y’.”
“Mr. ‘Y’?” Max said, taken aback for a moment.
“Yes, ‘Y’-as in ‘Yellow young yoga in Yankeeland’.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Or as in ‘X’?”
“I don’t follow you,” Mr. Wai replied.
“No, but ‘Y’ does follow ‘X’-which strikes me as being somewhat suspicious.”
“On the other hand,” Mr. Wai smiled, “ ‘X’ is also followed by ‘Z’.”
Max’s jaw fell. “Yes, I guess that clears you, all right,” he said. “Apparently, it’s all in the way you look at it. I’m sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“It could happen to anybody,” Mr. Wai assured Max. The smile spread out over his face again. “I don’t believe I caught your name,” he said.
Max introduced himself and 99 and Fang. “Are you a scientist, too?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” Mr. Wai replied. “Didn’t you notice-I’m clean-shaven. Scientists have beards. No, I’m the tour director. I’m escorting all you scientists to Europe to see the laboratories.” He suddenly frowned. “If you’re one of our scientists,” he said, “how is it that you’re clean-shaven, too?”
“Oh… yes. Well, there’s an explanation for that,” Max replied. “You see, I’m… ah… ah…”
“Rorff!”
“Yes, that’s it!” Max brightened. “I’m traveling incognito.”
Mr. Wai peered at him puzzledly. “You’re traveling as a mushroom?”
“Fang!” Max snapped at K-13.
“Rorff!”
“Oh, that’s what it means!” Max said, relieved. He turned back to Mr. Wai. “No, you see, incognito means that I’m concealing my true identity.”
“Well, maybe so,” Mr. Wai said doubtfully. “But I don’t think it’s working. I’d never take you for a mushroom.”
“Would you take me for a space scientist?” Max suggested.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s settle for that,” Max said.
“Fine, fine,” Mr. Wai nodded. “And, how are you enjoying the tour-so far?”
“Well, frankly, I’ve had better times at automobile accidents,” Max said. “I find that my colleagues are severely lacking in an appreciation of the finer degrees of humor.”
“I agree,” Mr. Wai said. “A bunch of point-killers if I ever saw a bunch of point-killers.” He suddenly grinned. “But, say, I did hear a good one today. As a space scientist, you might enjoy it. It seems that a bunch of these space scientists were sitting around the launching pad, discussing what animal they ought to send to the moon, and one of these space scientists said-”
“Cheese and quackers,” Max broke in.
“Oh. You’ve heard it.”
“Yes, I’ve heard it,” Max said. “But, have you heard the one about Orville and Wilbur Wright?”
“Hand me that socket wrench?” Mr. Wai replied.
“That’s it,” Max nodded.
Mr. Wai extended a hand again. “Well, I have to mingle with the other scientists,” he said. “But it’s been fun.”
“Yes, we’ll have to get together and trade punchlines again,” Max said.
Mr. Wai ambled off.
“Max,” 99 said, “I’m not so sure about him.”
“Innocent as a new-born-babe,” Max said.
“I don’t know-his name, Mr. ‘Y’. That’s awfully close to Dr. X.”
“Mr. Wai couldn’t possibly be a scientist,” Max said. “With a highly developed sense of humor like that? Impossible.”
“All right, Max. If you say so. Shall we mingle some more?”
Max shook his head. “No. We’re getting nowhere here. We’ve checked out the only clean-shaven man at the party, and found that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he isn’t Dr. X. So, the only conclusion I can reach is that Dr. X is not present. I think it’s time to change tactics again, 99.”
“What now, Max?”
“Let’s step outside where we can have some privacy,” Max said. “We don’t want to be overheard.”
“Max, no one is paying any attention to us.”
“That’s another reason for getting out of here,” Max said, leading the way toward the exit.
Max, 99 and Fang went out on deck and stood by the rail.
“I think we’re safe here,” Max said. A sea gull swooped by. “Unless that sea gull is bugged,” he added. “But we’ll just have to take that chance.”
“What do you have in mind, Max?” 99 said.
“In a nutshell, this,” Max said. “Now, we know that the diabolical Dr. X is traveling with a suitcase of six invisible guinea pigs-right? Right. And, it stands to reason that the suitcase is in Dr. X’s stateroom-right? Right. So, the next logical step, it seems to me, would be to search the staterooms of each and every one of the scientists on board until we find the suitcase full of invisible guinea pigs.”
“Max-that’s brilliant!”
“Simple logic,” Max said modestly.
“That means that we’ll need a list of the staterooms that have been assigned to scientists,” 99 said.
“Right. Now, armed with this list-”
“Where will we get the list, Max?”
“From the officer in charge of lists, of course. Where else?”
“I’d like to see that. Max.”
“You will, 99. Because that is your assignment.”
“Why me, Max?”
“Because, in this instance, I think your femininity will be more effective than my intellectuality. You know how sailors are. There’s something about being at sea that makes them especially susceptible to the lures of romance. Though, for the life of me, I can’t fathom what it could be.”
“Salt air, maybe,” 99 suggested.
“Rorff!” Fang barked.
Max glared at him. “It couldn’t be that,” he said. “And I think it’s ungentlemanly of you even to suggest it.”
“All right, Max,” 99 said, “what do I do after I get the list?”
“Try to shake the sailor,” Max said. “Then come to my stateroom. Fang and I will be there. I want to inspect that attache case of gadgets that the Chief gave us. There might be a gadget in there that we can use to help us search the scientists’ staterooms.”
99 saluted. “See you later, Max.”
“Don’t make it too much later,” Max said. “Fang may be right about what makes sailors that way.”
When 99 had gone, Max turned to Fang. “Time to hit that long, long trail-back to C Deck, boy,” he said. “Are you up to it?”
“Rorff!”
“Yes, I guess ‘down to it’ is closer to the mark.”
“Rorff!”
“No, Fang, I will not go down and get the attache case and bring it up here.”
“Rorff!”
“Go on. See what good it does you. J. Edgar Hoover is just as good a friend of mine as he is of yours. ”
Fang capitulated. And they began the long trek downward to C Deck.
When they reached the stateroom, they both squeezed in.
“Just watch your elbows,” Max said gruffly.
“Rorff!”
“All right, then, whatever it is that you have that passes for elbows.”
Max opened the attache case on the lower bunk and peered thoughtfully at the contents. “Let’s see, we’ll do our searching at night, when it’s dark,” he said, “so this ultra-violet flashlight, which throws a beam that can’t be seen by the naked eye, will come in handy. We can search the staterooms without having to worry about our beam being seen from outside. Clever of Research and Development to come up with that.”
“Rorff!”
Max picked up another of the gadgets. “Oh, this? Well, let’s see. I’ll read what it says here on the tag. ‘Full Field Pack, Including Food Rations to Sustain a Party of Six Over a Period of Two Weeks (if lunches are skipped). Also Including Battery-Operated Electric Stove and Oven, Three Sauce Pans, One Roaster Pan, Two Skillets and a Meat Thermometer.’ ”
“Rorff!”
“Yes, that is amazing,” Max said, holding up the gadget. “Imagine getting all that into a capsule the size of this. Why, it’s not much bigger than a tube of lipstick.”
“Rorff!”
Max scowled. “That’s possible. Maybe they did attach the wrong label to it.”
“Rorff!”
“That’s even more possible,” Max admitted. “Maybe it is a tube of 99’s lipstick. I think I better check it out. I’ll just pull the top off and-”
There was a sudden WHOOSH! The capsule exploded, and large, small and medium-sized objects filled the air, then settled down on Max and Fang, burying them.
They clawed their way to the surface.
“Fang! Are you all right!”
“rurff.”
“Oh, there you are. Take your head out of the oven.”
Max struggled to his feet, then, disgusted, stared down at the rubble of food containers and cooking utensils. “Look at that!” he said. “Fourteen boxes of instant oatmeal! Is that what they call food rations! I wouldn’t feed that gunk to a dog!”
“Rorff!”
“Sorry, Fang. I didn’t mean that personally.” He groaned. “Well, let’s get this stateroom straightened up. Shove everything under the bunk.”
When the rubble had been cleared away, Max and Fang turned their attentions to the attache case of gadgets once more.
Max plucked an item from the case that looked like a nozzle for a hose. “What do you suppose this is?” he said, curious.
“Rorff!”
“I know what it looks like. But it can’t be that. The thing about these gadgets is, they’re designed to look like something harmless to disguise the fact that, actually, they’re lethal weapons. Now then, let’s read this tag and see what this instrument really is.” He read-silently. “Hmmmmmmm,” he said, finally, “a nozzle, eh?”
“Rorff!”
“Fang, nobody likes an ‘I-told-you-so.’ ” He peered into the business end of the nozzle. “Very interesting. But highly impractical. What good is a nozzle without a hose? And, more to the point, what good is a nozzle without a hose that’s attached to a water hydrant? No, I’m afraid I’ll have to give Research and Development a thumbs down on this one.”
At that moment, 99 put her head in the doorway.
“Hi, Max. I’m back.”
“Welcome home,” Max said. “Did you get the list?”
“Oh, yes. I found the list officer and asked him for the list, but he said that lists were restricted, he couldn’t give any lists out to anybody who wasn’t authorized personnel.”
“That’s the usual story,” Max said. “What did you do?”
“I said, ‘All right, don’t give me the list, but may I have a copy of it?’ So that was okay, he gave me a carbon of the list. He said there wasn’t any rule about who could get copies.”
“Good, good. I’d ask you to bring the list in, 99, but there just isn’t room. So, do this. Make a paper airplane out of it and sail it over to me, will you?”
“All right, Max.”
99 began folding the list into the shape of a paper airplane, but then she stopped and looked at Max puzzledly.
“Max,” she said, “why are you standing there holding a nozzle?”
“Oh. This is one of the gadgets that Research and Development sent along in the attache case,” Max explained. He smiled. “Looks like a nozzle, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. What is it really?”
“It’s a nozzle.”
99 giggled. “Max, you’re kidding.”
“No. No, I’m not. It’s really a nozzle.”
“Let’s see. Squirt some water.”
Max looked pained. “99, you can’t squirt water out of a nozzle that doesn’t have a hose attached to it. That’s elementary logic.”
“Max, R and D wouldn’t have sent it if it didn’t work. Turn it on.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Try it, Max.”
“I’d feel like a silly-Billy.”
“Oh, go on, Max. It won’t hurt.”
“Well…”
Max turned the nozzle. And a thunderous stream of water gushed from the end.
“Max! Turn it off!” 99 shrieked.
“I can’t! It’s stuck!”
The stream of water sprayed the stateroom. It knocked pictures off the walls. Fang became drenched. Max became drenched. 99 tried to fight her way into the stateroom to help Max, and she became drenched.
Water began to rise in the stateroom. A stove floated out from under the bunk.
“Max!” 99 called. “Open the porthole!”
Max dropped the nozzle, waded to the porthole, and yanked it open.
The sea came rolling in!
“Max!” 99 screamed. “I forgot how far down we are! Close the porthole!”
Max threw his weight against the porthole cover, and finally got it closed, shutting off the rush of sea water.
A grayish ooze began bubbling up from under the bunk!
“Max! What is that!” 99 wailed.
“That,” Max said disgustedly, “is fourteen boxes of instant oatmeal!”
“Max! Do something!”
“Close the door!” Max called back.
“Max, no! You’ll drown in there!”
“Close the door!” Max commanded. “I want to get this nozzle into the bathroom and put it in the sink. But I can’t open the bathroom door unless you close the stateroom door.”
“Oh. All right, Max.”
99 tried to close the stateroom door. But she didn’t have much success.
“99-what’s the matter!”
“It’s the oatmeal, Max. The doorway is so full of oatmeal, I can’t get the door closed.”
“All right-belay that last order.” Max turned to Fang. “Fang, I’m going to open the porthole once more. When I do, you throw the nozzle out the opening. Ready?”
“Rorff!”
“Fang, I don’t think this is the time to worry about whether you should throw it underhanded or overhanded. Just throw!”
“Rorff!”
“All right, underhanded, if that’s your best throw. And, yes, I promise I’ll watch.”
Again, Max yanked the porthole open.
Fang gripped the nozzle firmly in his jaws, then, with considerable skill, pitched it out the opening-underhanded.
Once more, Max pressed his full weight against the porthole cover. The sea yielded, and the cover closed.
Max sat down on the edge of the bunk, exhausted.
“Rorff!”
“Yes, Fang,” he said wearily, “I do think you’re good enough for the New York Mets.”
“Max… are you all right?” 99 said worriedly from the doorway.
“All right? Yes, I’m all right. Considering that my shoes are full of instant oatmeal.”
“You better get someone to clean up this mess, Max.”
“Yes, sure. And how will I explain it?”
“Well… there’s the stove, and the pans, and the oatmeal. You could say you were having breakfast in bed and it got out of hand.”
“99, that’s preposterous.”
“I don’t know why. There’s the stove and the pans and the oatmeal.”
“Oh, that part of it makes sense enough,” Max said. “But, 99, it’s the middle of the afternoon. Who would believe that I would be having breakfast at that time of day?”
99 nodded sadly. “I guess we’ll have to clean it up ourselves.”
It took only a few hours to clear away the mess in Max’s stateroom. By then it was time for dinner, but still too early to go stateroom-searching.
“Shall we eat now, Max?” 99 said.
“Mess,” Max replied.
“Max, why do we have to miss dinner?”
“Not ‘miss’, ‘mess.’ That’s what meals are called on board ship.”
99 looked at him dubiously. “Mess?”
“Yes. Mess.”
“Max, why do they call it that?”
“Well… you just saw what my breakfast looked like. Isn’t it obvious?”
“Oh… yes.”
“Rorff!” Fang barked.
“Yes, that’s right,” Max agreed. “The Chief did say that he wanted us to keep in touch. I think I’d better put in a call to Control before we go to mess.”
Max sat down on the edge of the lower bunk and took off his communicating shoe. He dialed, then waited, listening to the tone.
Operator: What number were you calling, please?
Max (surprised): Operator, this is a direct line. You’re not supposed to be on it.
Operator: This is an overseas call, sir. All overseas calls are handled by we operators.
Max: I think that should be ‘us’ operators, operator.
Operator: Oh? Are you one of we?
Max: Us.
Operator: Is that you, Mabel? What happened to your voice?
Max: Operator, this is not Mabel. This is Max.
Operator: Oh… Maxine! Gee, honey, you sounded just like Mabel. Golly, dearie, no wonder I didn’t recognize your voice. I haven’t seen you in ages. Not since you told that Night Supervisor what she could do with her trunk line. Did she resent that, Maxine? Is that why I haven’t seen you around?
Max (testily): Operator, this is not Maxine. This is Max. M-a-x-Max. I am Maxwell Smart, Secret Agent 86, and I am trying to place a call to Control. Now, may I have your cooperation, please?
Operator: I’m sorry, sir. But, you know, you sure do sound like Mabel. Or Maxine, as the case may be. But, if you say you’re not… if you say you’re some kind of secret agent… I guess you have a right to that opinion. After all, it’s a free country, isn’t it, six? Now, what number do you want, sir?
Max: I can’t tell you that, operator. Control is a secret organization. Consequently, its number is classified information.
Operator: But can’t you even tell me, sir? I won’t tell anybody, honest.
Max: I’m afraid not, operator. That would be a violation of my oath. You’ll have to look it up yourself. It’s right there in the book.
Operator: Yes, sir. And what did you say the name was?
Max: Control. C-o-n-t-r-o-l.
(sound of Operator leafing through pages)
Operator: I have the page, sir. Now, what is the first name?
Max: There isn’t any first name, operator. It’s just plain old Control.
Operator (to herself): Gee… let’s see… here’s Frank Control… Algernon Control… Pest Control… oh, here’s a P. O. Control. Could that be it, sir?
Max: Yes, I suppose it is. P. O. Control. Plain Old Control. Let’s try that number, anyway.
Operator: Yes, sir. I’m ringing that number, sir.
(ringing sound)
Chief: Control. Chief speaking.
Max: Chief, this is Max. I’m calling from the “Queen Edward.” Just giving you a buzz to let you know that the mission is rolling right along on schedule.
Chief: Max, have you spotted the diabolical Dr. X yet?
Max: I’m almost positive we have, Chief. In our wanderings about the ship we’ve seen practically everybody on board. One of those persons must have been the diabolical Dr. X. Now, all we have to do is narrow it down to the one.
Chief: Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing. What else have you accomplished?
Max: For one thing, Chief, I think I’ve found a new pitcher for the New York Mets. That is, if they’re interested in an underhanded lefty. Oh, yes, and I’ve experience-tested a couple of those gadgets that R and D sent along. One thing, Chief: I think a warning should be attached to those boxes of instant oatmeal. It probably should say something like this: Do Not Open in Flooded Stateroom.
Chief: I’ll make a note of that, Max. R and D is very anxious to get your reaction to those new gadgets.
Max: I have one little disappointment for them, Chief. I won’t be bringing back that nozzle. I have an excellent reason for it. But it’s a long, wet story, so I won’t bore you with it.
Chief: They will be disappointed. That nozzle was one of their prize gadgets.
Max: Tell them I’m sorry about that, Chief.
Chief: What are your plans now, Max?
Max: Right now, Chief, we’re going to mess.
Chief: Mess, Max?
Max: That’s what meals are called on board ship, Chief.
Chief: Why is that?
Max: If you’d been here in my stateroom a few minutes ago, you wouldn’t have to ask. But, I suppose it’s because the ship’s crew is an untidy lot, and they mess around a lot at meals.
Operator (breaking in): Your three minutes are up. Deposit another seventy-six dollars and twenty-five cents, please.
Chief: Operator, this isn’t a pay phone. The charge goes on our regular bill.
Operator: Pardon my impudence, sir, but that’s what they all say.
Chief: Max-I don’t have that kind of change handy, so I guess we’ll have to ring off now. But keep in touch.
Max: So long, Chief.
Operator: So long from me, too, Chief. And so long to you, Maxine.
The line went dead.