Max, 99 and Fang dined in the main dining room, then went out on the deck to wait for night to fall, at which time they intended to begin searching the scientists’ staterooms.
As they stood at the rail, the sound of soft music floated in the air, wafted by a cooling, caressing, sea-scented breeze.
99 sighed dreamily. “Somewhere, Max, they’re dancing,” she murmured romantically.
“I hope so,” Max replied. “It would be a shame to waste that music.”
“Max-look. The stars are peeping through the clouds.”
“Technically, that isn’t correct, 99,” Max said. “Those stars are just sitting there, and the clouds are passing in front of them. Stars don’t peep. They’re not interested in that sort of thing.”
“Max, do you have to be so literal!”
“I’m not so literal,” Max replied gruffly. “I’m five-foot-eleven. There are a lot of guys that are literal than that.”
“Rorff!”
“Fang is right,” Max said. “I just look literal to you because you’re a tall girl.”
“What I mean is, Max, don’t you ever have any romantic thoughts? Look-the stars are out, the moon is a yellow gondola in the sky, the-”
“99,” Max broke in, “if you think the moon looks like a gondola, you’ve got a lot of gondola research to do.”
“Max, I was speaking poetically. The stars… the moon… the night… doesn’t that mean something to you?”
“99, you’re right. I’ve been a blind fool. Now, I understand what you’ve been trying to tell me. It’s night-time to start searching those staterooms. Come on!”
99 groaned-then obediently trotted after Max and Fang, who were striding down the deck.
“We’re going to do this alphabetically-from Z to A,” Max said when 99 caught up.
“Isn’t alphabetically the other way around, from A to Z?” 99 said.
“Not if you’re in a hurry, and you’re looking for a Dr. X,” Max replied.
They entered a corridor that was lined with the doors to staterooms. Max, leading the way, began checking the numbers on the doors.
“Whose stateroom are we looking for, Max?” 99 asked.
“The stateroom of a Dr. Zee,” Max replied. “Dr. Ludwig Zee.”
“Zee,” 99 mused. “Dr. Zee… that is suspicious, isn’t it, Max?”
Max halted. “How’s that?”
“Well… Dr. Zee… Dr. X… they’re so close together. You know, X, Y, Z.”
“Oh, is that how it goes? I thought it was ‘I’ before ‘E’, except after ‘C’, and, on rare occasions, ‘W’ and ‘Y’ ”
“That’s something else, Max, I’m talking about the alphabet-the way it ends. It ends with X, Y, Z.”
Max shook his head. “Sorry, 99. Good try, but it just doesn’t have it. You see, in this case, we’re working from Z to A. Consequently, the alphabet ends not in X, Y, Z, but in C, B, A. Nevertheless, as I said, good try. Keep thinking.”
“Yes, Max.”
They moved on-then Max halted again. “This is it,” he said.
He looked up and down the corridor.
“All clear,” 99 whispered.
Max tried the door. “Locked,” he announced.
“That’s not surprising,” 99 said.
“No, and not unexpected, either,” Max replied. “Fortunately, I’m prepared. R and D sent along a gadget that-it claims-is guaranteed to unlock any locked door. This looks to me like an excellent opportunity to experience-test it.” He reached into a pocket and extracted a tiny, penny-sized gadget, then read from the tag that was attached to it. “ ‘Turn Indicator to ON, place in Keyhole, Then Run Like the Devil!’ ”
“It must be an explosive,” 99 said.
Max scowled. “I’m not sure I can get this tag in that keyhole,” he said.
“Max, I think it means to put the gadget in the keyhole-not the tag.”
“Oh… yes. I wish R and D would be more explicit about these things.” He tore the tag from the gadget, then set the indicator on ON, and pushed the gadget into the keyhole.
“Now, then, to see what develops,” he said.
“Max, aren’t we supposed to run like the Devil?”
“See what I mean? Why can’t R and D be more explicit? I, for one, haven’t the faintest idea how a Devil runs. Is a Devil a slow runner, or a fast-”
The question was suddenly cut short by a thunderous explosion. There was a flash of flame, then black, roiling smoke filled the corridor.
“Well, I guess that answers that,” Max said, choking.
They fanned the smoke away-and found the stateroom door at their feet. They also found themselves joined by a number of other passengers.
“Don’t panic,” Max said to them. “Nothing to get excited about. We’re the ship’s carpenters-doing a little repair work. This, uh, door was stuck.”
The other passengers seemed satisfied. They returned to their staterooms.
“That was close,” Max said.
“You handled it beautifully, Max,” 99 complimented him.
“Yes, I thought so. The secret is to keep your wits about you and present a logical, wholly believable explanation. It works every time.” He gestured toward the open doorway. “After you, 99… Fang.”
The two entered, then Max raised the door and leaned it in place in front of the opening.
“Now, then…” he said, pleased.
“Max…” 99 called from inside the stateroom, “… you closed yourself outside. You’re in the corridor.”
Max looked around. “I thought this was an odd shape for a stateroom-long and narrow,” he said. “And very poorly furnished, too.”
He lifted the door aside, entered the stateroom, then put the door back in place.
“Now, then…” he said again.
“Max, it’s dark in here.”
“Exactly why I brought along the ultra-violet flashlight, 99. Here it is. I’ll just turn on the beam, and…”
“Max, it’s still dark.”
“That’s because the ultra-violet beam cannot be seen by the naked eye, 99. And, you and I and Fang, being only human, are equipped with naked eyes.”
“But, Max, what good is it if we can’t see the beam? There isn’t any light.”
“Yes, I better make a note of that for R and D,” Max said. “99, will you flip on the light switch, please. I can’t write in the dark.”
“Yes, Max.”
Light flooded the room.
“That’s better,” Max said, making the note to pass on to R and D.
“Where shall we start searching, Max?” 99 asked.
“The suitcases,” Max replied. “That’s what we’re looking for, remember? A suitcase containing six invisible guinea pigs. Not three, not four, not five, but six invisible guinea pigs. However, if you do find a suitcase with five invisible guinea pigs in it, you better let me know. It’s just possible that one of the little beggars might have escaped.”
“It will be difficult to know,” 99 said. “Since it would be invisible.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Max said. “To make those difficult decisions for you. All right, 99, let’s start the search.”
99 opened the closet door and pulled out a suitcase.
Max kneeled and peered under the bunk.
“Rorff!” Fang barked.
“No, nothing but dust,” Max reported.
“Max! I’ve found them!” 99 cried.
Max leaped to his feet and rushed to her side. He peered into the suitcase that lay open on the floor.
“Empty as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard!” he said. “This just might be it, 99!”
“How can we be sure?”
“By feel. That’s the only way.”
Max reached a hand into the empty suitcase and squeezed.
But there was no response.
Max sighed. “No, 99, I’m afraid that’s not it. Until we find an empty suitcase that squeals, we’ll just have to keep looking.”
“Sorry, Max,” 99 said, closing the suitcase.
“It could happen to anybody.”
99 took another suitcase from the closet.
Max kneeled again and, this time, peered under the chest of drawers.
“Rorff!”
“Same old dust,” Max reported.
At that moment, another voice was heard-a challenging, gutteral, masculine voice.
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?”
99 turned. Max looked up. Fang ducked under the bed.
A large, dark man with a long dark beard was standing in the doorway. The door was nowhere to be seen.
“Hi, there,” Max said cheerily, getting to his feet. “Dr. Zee, I presume.”
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?” Dr. Zee repeated, a touch more belligerently.
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should have said, ‘Dr. X, I presume’,” he said. “That is your true identity, isn’t it, Doctor?”
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?” the man persisted.
“That’s right, play it cool,” Max snapped. “But it won’t wash, Doctor. It so happens that we’re on to you. So, just hand over that formula, and, I might add, those half-dozen invisible guinea pigs, and let’s get this over with.”
The man glared at him. “Vot you doink in mine staderoom?”
“Pret-ty clever,” Max said. “Won’t give us anything but your name, rank and serial number, eh? It just so happens, however, that this case is not covered by the Geneva Convention. There are no rules in the game of espionage, Doctor. It’s every man for himself.”
“Rorff!”
“Dogs, too,” Max added. “And come out from under that bunk!”
The man tried once more. “Vot you doink in mine staderoom?”
“So, that’s your story, and you’re going to stick to it, eh? Well, Dr. X, we have ways…”
The man backed out of the doorway and disappeared.
“Max, shouldn’t we stop him?” 99 cried.
“Why? He’ll have to come back here eventually,” Max said. “He didn’t even take his toothbrush with him.”
“What shall we do now, Max?”
“Keep searching. Those invisible guinea pigs are here somewhere.”
“Rorff!” Fang barked, crawling out from under the bunk.
“Dust yourself off,” Max commanded.
“Max…” 99 said.
He turned to her. “Yes? What now?”
She pointed toward the doorway.
Max looked-and saw Dr. Zee (or Dr. X) and a steward standing in the opening.
“A-ha, went to get your confederate, eh?” Max said. “Well, it won’t do you any good. You’re still outnumbered. Three of us to two of you.”
Fang ducked under the bunk again.
“All right, let’s just say that it’s even-Steven,” Max said. “But that still gives us the edge. Because we’re the Good Guys.”
“Excuse me, sir,” the steward said. “I’m not sure what this is all about, but Dr. Zee, here, wants to know-”
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?” Dr. Zee said, breaking in.
“Max,” 99 said, “do you know what I think?”
“Yes,” Max replied, “and I’m beginning to think the same thing.”
“That Dr. Zee is really Dr. Zee?”
“Yes, that just about sums it up.” He addressed the steward. “Steward, there’s been a slight mistake,” he said. “You see, my friends and I were looking for the, uh, main ballroom-we heard the music and it set our toes to tapping-and, inadvertently, we wandered into Dr. Zee’s stateroom.” He turned back to 99. “See? A logical, wholly-believable explanation will do it every time.”
“How do you explain the door?” the steward asked. “It looks like it’s been blown right off the hinges.”
“Rorff!” Fang barked from beneath the bunk.
“Yes, of course,” Max smiled. “There’s the explanation right there-we didn’t have a key.”
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?” Dr. Zee asked again.
“Sorry-that’s classified information,” Max replied.
“I’ll have to take you to the Captain,” the steward said.
“Yes, I understand that-that’s your duty,” Max said. He gestured to 99. “Come along.” Then he bent down and called to Fang. “You, tool”
The three stepped out into the corridor, joining the steward.
Max frowned at the door, which had been leaned against the wall. He turned back to Dr. Zee. “Sorry about that,” he said.
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?” Dr. Zee growled.
The steward led Max, 99 and Fang away.
As they moved along the corridor, Max fell in beside the steward. “This is going to be a lot of fuss and bother for you,” he said. He reached into a pocket and brought out a ten-dollar bill. “Couldn’t we settle it among ourselves?”
“I couldn’t accept a bribe, sir,” the steward replied.
“A bribe? Bribe? Of course not. I had no intention of bribing you.” He smiled slyly. “But, you could accept a little gift, couldn’t you?”
“I don’t think that would be improper,” the steward said, smiling slyly in return.
“Good, good.” Max pressed the ten-dollar bill into the steward’s hand. “We’ll call it a Christmas gift-and just say that Santa came a little early this year,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” the steward said. He stopped at a door. “Right in here, sir.”
“Where is this?” Max asked.
“The Captain’s quarters, sir.”
“Now, wait a minute-what about that bribe!”
The steward looked hurt. “But you said that was a gift, Santa.”
Max glared at him. “All right, steward. But just don’t be surprised next Christmas when you get lumps of coal in your stocking.”
The steward opened the door and ushered the trio inside.
The Captain, a large, rotund man, was seated at his desk. He looked up as they entered. His face was pinched in an expression of indecision. “Tell me again, steward,” he said, “which is left-port or starboard?”
“Port, sir.”
“Thanks.” He smiled at Max. “I can never get that straight,” he said. “And it’s important to know when you’re in command of a ship. We have rules of the road, you know-just like on land. We have to keep to the starboard. Except, of course, when making a port turn.” He got to his feet. “Now… what is it, steward?”
“I found these people-and this dog-looting another passenger’s stateroom, sir.”
“Oh… petty thieves, eh?” He nodded cordially. “Welcome aboard.”
Max stared at him blankly. “Welcome aboard?”
The Captain spoke to the steward. “That will be all,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”
The steward departed.
“Welcome aboard?” Max said again.
“Yes, of course,” the Captain replied.
“But the steward referred to us as looters. And you yourself called us petty thieves.”
The Captain shrugged. “Business is business. You paid your fare, didn’t you? As a matter of fact, most of our passengers are looters, petty thieves and card sharks. They’re on board to take advantage of the few passengers who aren’t in the trade-the rich tourists. But, if we depended on rich tourists, we’d go broke in a week. You looters, petty thieves and card sharks make up the bulk of our passenger list. We appreciate the patronage.”
“I see,” Max said dimly.
“However, there are limits to our appreciation,” the Captain went on. “If you get caught too often, I’m afraid I’ll have to get nasty about it. It’s bad for business.”
Max nodded. “Bad for business.”
“Yes. You see, if we catch too many looters, petty thieves and card sharks on board our reputation will suffer. Bad public relations. And that will chase away the rich tourists. And, if we don’t have a lot of rich tourists aboard, we’ll lose all the business we get from looters, petty thieves and card sharks. So… be careful. One hand washes the other, you know.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Max said foggily. “Let’s see… wash my hands…”
“You may go now,” the Captain said. “But stay out of the way of that nosy steward. He’s the conscientious type-no feel for public relations at all. Keeps bringing looters, petty thieves and card sharks in here, expecting me to do something about it.”
“Yes, he isn’t very likeable,” Max agreed.
“ No body likes him,” the Captain said. “Last Christmas, he got coal in his stocking.”
Max, 99 and Fang backed toward the door. “We’ll be careful,” Max promised.
“Oh… before you go,” the Captain said. “How does it go again? Starboard is left? Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s left-starboard is right,” Max replied.
“Thanks. I can never-”
Max closed the door.
“What now, Max?” 99 said.
“Back to looting-that is, searching-staterooms,” Max replied. “Who’s next on the list?”
“It’s getting a little late, Max. The staterooms will probably be occupied. I imagine the scientists are all in bed by now.”
“That’s a thought,” Max replied. “All right, we’ll knock off for the night, hit the sack ourselves, and get an early start in the morning. To paraphrase a wise old saying-it’s the early secret agent who catches the invisible guinea pig.”
They left the main deck and trudged wearily down the stairway toward C Deck. When they finally reached there, Max and Fang said good-night to 99, and she disappeared into her stateroom.
Max and Fang squeezed into their own room.
“Well, old buddy, who gets the top bunk and who gets the lower bunk?” Max said to Fang.
“Rorff”
“That sounds fair-we’ll flip for it.” He reached into a pocket and brought out a coin. “Call it, Fang.”
“Rorff!”
“Heads you win, tails I lose? Sorry, old buddy. You don’t expect me to fall for that old ruse, do you? I couldn’t possibly win that way. Now, which do you want-heads or tails?”
“Rorff!”
“Okay.”
Max tried to flip the coin. But there wasn’t space enough to maneuver. “Well, that’s out,” he said. “This stateroom isn’t even large enough to flip a coin in.”
“Rorff!”
Max brightened. “Yes, that’s a good way to settle the matter. Okay-first one into his jammies gets the bottom bunk. On your mark, get set-”
“Rorff!” Fang barked-from under the covers in the lower bunk.
“No fair” Max complained. “I hadn’t even got to ‘Go’ yet!”
“Rorff!”
Max sighed resignedly. “I guess you’re right. When you’re in a jammy race against an adversary whose overcoat serves as his business suit, bathing suit, tennis togs, tuxedo and jammies too-you can’t win!”