Get Smart 7 - Max Smart - The Spy Who Went Out to the Cold (13 page)

“Then who is in the special car?” Max asked.

“Who knows? I’m like everybody else. Since I know it isn’t the secret police, I don’t pay any attention.”

The conductor moved on.

“Very strange,” Max mused.

“The conductor doesn’t think it’s strange, Max,” 99 pointed out. “So it must happen quite often.”

“99, for all I know, that conductor is not a member of the Russian secret police, but a KAOS agent, who slipped aboard, did away with the real conductor, who was not a real conductor, but a member of the Russian secret police, then took his place, so that when I asked why the train was sitting in the station, he could allay my suspicions by pretending to be the conductor who was a member of the Russian secret police and telling me that picking up a special car is an everyday occurence, when, in fact, he knows that the special car is carrying KAOS agents who are bent on kidnapping Professor von BOOM.”

“Max, you mean—”

“Whatever I said, that’s what I mean, 99. Don’t make me say it again.”

There was a sudden bump. Max and 99 jumped up and ran to the rear window and looked out. Another car had been attached to the end of the train.

“It’s probably a beehive of KAOS agents,” Max said.

“I don’t think so, Max. I think it’s empty.”

“99, I happen to know a beehive when—”

“But, Max, look—” 99 pointed.

A large number of stony-faced men were approaching the special car, marching in single line along the platform. They were dressed in dark suits, and each one was carrying an instrument case.

“I still say it’s a beehive,” Max said. “The bees just haven’t arrived yet.”

“Max, they’re musicians, they’re not KAOS agents.”

“Ha! I’ll bet there’s not one man in that whole outfit who can even play the kazoo. They’re carrying machine guns in those cases, 99, not instruments. Look at those faces. Those are the faces of killers. I know exactly what they intend to do, 99. They—”

“Watch out, Max—they’ll see you!”

Max and 99 pulled back so that the men, who were entering the special car, could not see them. A few minutes later, they heard the door of the car slam. They looked out again. Not one of the mysterious strangers was still in sight.

“Max . . . you may be right,” 99 said fearfully.

“Of course I’m right. The minute this train reaches some deserted area—like a desert or something—those men will pour out of that car—machine guns at the ready—and gun down every living human being aboard—except one. That way, there will be no witnesses to their crime.”

“Max, that’s terrible!”

“Who is the one?” von BOOM asked, having joined Max and 99.

“You,” Max replied.

“That’s not so terrible,” von BOOM said.

The train began moving again.

“Max! What can we do?”

“Get off this train—and fast!” Max said.

“Not me,” von BOOM said. “I think you’re wrong, Smart. Those aren’t KAOS agents. They’re probably members of a Russian orchestra.”

“Max . . . he might be right,” 99 said.

“I say they’re not even Russian,” Max replied. “And I’ll prove it.” He got a Russian-American dictionary from his pocket. “I’ll go question them. That ought to settle the matter for once and all.”

“Max—wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“So would staying here and getting gunned down, 99.”

Max left the car and, with 99 and von BOOM watching from hiding, went to the door of the rear car and knocked. A moment later, the door opened and one of the stony-faced men appeared.

Consulting his Russian-American dictionary, Max said, “Novotny kropotkin don pilsudski?”

The man stared at him blankly for a moment. Then he got out a Russian-American dictionary of his own, thumbed through it, then replied, “Barnonski don kropotkin?”

“Da,” Max nodded.

Max headed back toward his own car. Behind him, he heard the door of the special car close.

“There you are,” Max said triumphantly, returning to where 99 and von BOOM were waiting.

“What did he say, Max?”

“I haven’t the faintest, 99. I don’t understand Russian.”

“Then what did that prove?” von BOOM asked.

“It proved that they’re not members of a Russian orchestra,” Max replied. “If that fellow had been Russian, would he have had to use a Russian-American dictionary?”

“He’s right, Professor,” 99 said. “We better get off the train.”

“I’m not convinced,” von BOOM replied. “You didn’t—”

“Hold it!” Max said suddenly.

The door of the special car had opened again. The mysterious men began emerging.

“Back—out of the way!” Max warned.

The door of the observation car opened. The mysterious men entered and marched by. As each one passed, he peered hard at Max, then 99, then von BOOM. But nothing was said. And finally the last of the men passed by.

“Follow them!” Max said. “This may be it!”

“But, Max—”

Max was already on his way up the aisle, tracking the mysterious men. 99 and von BOOM trailed after him. They caught up a few cars later. Max was standing in a doorway, looking. straight ahead. 99 and von BOOM looked past him—and saw the mysterious men seated in the dining car, perusing menus.

“That was close,” Max said. “I thought they were going to start the shooting.”

“Max, they don’t have machine guns.”

“I explained that, 99. The machine guns are in their instrument— Oh, yes, I see. They didn’t bring the instrument cases, did they?”

“They’re having dinner, that’s all,” von BOOM said. “What’s suspicious about that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Max replied. “They’re having dinner to keep us from getting suspicious. That’s what’s suspicious about it.”

“Poppycock!”

Max faced him. “Did you see the way they looked at us when they passed us?” he said to von BOOM. “If you need proof that they’re KAOS agents, that should have been it.”

“They did look at us very strangely, Professor,” 99 said.

Von BOOM frowned. “They
did
stare at us,” he admitted. “But, still . . .”

“There’s no doubt about it,” Max insisted. “Quick—let’s jump off the train.”

“Max—it’s going at least ninety-miles-an-hour. We’d be killed.”

“Isn’t that better than staying here and getting killed, 99?”

Von BOOM shook his head. “I need more proof.”

“All right, you’ll have it,” Max said. “They left their instrument cases in the car. We’ll sneak in there and open the cases, and I’ll show you that they’re carrying machine guns.” He headed toward the rear of the train. “Let’s go.”

99 and von BOOM trailed after him.

“Max, suppose they left somebody to guard the instrument cases?” 99 said.

“I think two Control agents can handle a little thing like a guard, 99.”

“Suppose the instrument cases are booby-trapped,” von BOOM said.

“Professor, a Control agent has no trouble handling a little thing like a booby trap,” Max answered.

They reached the special car. Max tried to open the door—but it was locked. “Drat—stopped!” he said.

“By a locked door?” von BOOM said, puzzled.

“Yes,” Max nodded. “Too bad it isn’t something we can handle—a guard or a booby trap. Well, that leaves us no choice. We’ll just have to jump.”

“I refuse,” von BOOM said.

“You go ahead and jump, 99,” Max said. “I’ll push von BOOM, then I’ll be along right after him.”

“Max, there must be another way,” 99 said.

“99, I’ve thought this through,” Max said. “And the only other possible way would be to detach this last car from the train and leave it stranded out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Max! That’s a brilliant idea!”

“It’s a terrible idea, 99,” Max corrected. “What good would it do us? Those KAOS agents are all up in the dining car.”

“We could wait until they come back, Max. And then, when they’re all in the car again, we could release it.”

“Jumping would be much faster, 99.”

“I won’t jump, and I won’t be pushed,” von BOOM said.

Max sighed, resigned. “All right,” he said, “we’ll do it the hard way. But, just remember, when I make out my report on this mission, I’m going to make sure that the record shows that I wanted to jump.”

Max, 99 and von BOOM returned to their compartments and waited until night. Then, a little after midnight, when everyone else on the train was asleep, they quietly returned to the platform of the observation car.

“How are the cars connected, Max?” 99 whispered. “Do you know how to detach them?”

“I’m sure it’s very simple, 99. All mechanical things are simple. I once took a Swiss watch apart—and after I’d looked at it for only a few minutes.”

“Did you get it back together?” von BOOM asked.

“That isn’t important, Professor,” Max replied. “I don’t intend to put these two cars back together after I disconnect them. We’re going to leave the special car stranded—remember?” He got down on his hands and knees and looked closely at the mechanism that linked the two cars. “There’s a handle here,” he said. “All I’ll have to do is pull it, I imagine.”

“Then pull it, Max. Hurry—before someone in that other car hears us.”

“I can’t reach it,” Max replied. “It’s— Oh, I see.” He got to his feet.

“What are you going to do, Max?”

“It’s closer to that other car,” he explained. He stepped to the platform of the special car. “From over here—”

“Max—”

“Quiet, 99. You’re liable to wake those KAOS agents.”

“But, Max—”

“Shh-shh-shh!” Max got down on his hands and knees again. “I can reach it from here,” he reported. “All I have to do is— There!”

Max had pulled the lever.

“Max! Oh, Max!” 99 cried.

The train was speeding off into the night, leaving the special car stranded—with Max standing on the platform.

“99—wait!”

“Max—we can’t stop!” She turned tearfully to von BOOM. “Do something!” she wept.

The Professor raised an arm and waved goodbye to Max. “How’s that?” he said to 99.

As the train disappeared into the darkness, Max waved limply in response to von BOOM’s farewell. The special car was losing momentum. After a few moments, it stopped dead.

The door opened. One of the mysterious strangers looked out. “What the—”

“I hope you fellows have a sense of humor,” Max smiled. “Because, if you don’t, you’re going to be a little bit put out about what’s happened.”

The whole car of mysterious strangers began crowding into the doorway, looking baffled.

“Let me put it this way,” Max said, backing off the platform. “Let’s just say that Control has triumphed again, and let it go at that. No hard feelings—okay? Actually, I’m the one who ought to be upset. I was supposed to be on that other platform.”

The mysterious stranger who appeared to be the leader pointed in the direction in which the train had disappeared. “You do dot!” he said angrily to Max.

“Well, yes. But, you see—”

“Dumbhead!” the leader raged.

“Exactly what I was afraid of—no sense of humor,” Max said. He jumped to the ground, whipped around, and raced into the darkness, with no idea at all where he was heading.

“Get dot dumbhead!” the leader of the mysterious strangers screamed.

The ground beneath Max’s feet suddenly disappeared. He performed a rolling, head-over-heels summersault, and then touched ground again. He was at the bottom of a deep ditch.

“Find me dot dumbhead!” the voice screeched.

Max scrambled to his feet. Following the ditch, he raced forward. The voice followed him. He scampered up the side of the ditch, then, on level ground once more, plunged into the darkness—and bounced off a wire fence.

“Oooooooo!—do I vant dot dumbhead!”

Max dragged himself to his feet. He struggled to the top of the fence, tumbled over it—and dangled, with one shoe caught in the wire.

“Soch a dumbhead!”

Max slipped his foot out of the shoe—and crashed to the ground. He staggered to his feet, retrieved the shoe, put it back on, then plunged forward once more—but, unfortunately, in the wrong direction, right back into the fence.

“Dere he is! Get him! Dot dumbhead!”

Again, Max lunged into the darkness. He found himself running across a plowed field, falling on his face after every third step. Behind him, the voice of rage was raised over and over again. But Max kept on. And his determination was soon rewarded. Ahead, he saw a dim light—and then the outline of a house.

“A peasant farmhouse!” he gasped. “Maybe they’ll hide me!”

With renewed strength, he plunged forward again—straight into a wooden fence, over the top of it, and down into a pig pen.

“Oink!” the pig complained.

“Sorry about that,” Max replied, climbing out.

He rushed on, and, moments later, reached the porch of the farmhouse. Collapsing against the door, he beat on it frantically. In the near distance, he heard the voice again, getting closer.

“I think you’re going to have some more company,” he called back to the pig.

At that instant, the door opened—and Max fell into the house, landing flat on his face.

“Da?” a voice said.

Max raised his head. Standing over him were a Russian man and his Russian wife. They were dressed in night clothes. Apparently Max had awakened them.

“KAOS!” Max panted. “I’m being . . . pursued . . . by . . . by KAOS agents. Save . . . me.”

The man smiled broadly. “Da!” he said. But he made no effort to help Max.

Max got to his feet. “You don’t understand! Hide! Hide! Conceal! Stash!” He remembered his Russian-American dictionary and quickly got it out.

But at that same instant there was a loud rap on the door.

“Vere is dot dumbhead!” a voice shouted from outside.

The peasant and his wife exchanged baffled looks.

Max raced from the main room into the bedroom and dived under the bed. Soon after that he heard the peasant open the door.

“Greetings!” Max heard the leader of the mysterious strangers say. “Vee are looking for a dumbhead. Maybe you haff seen him. He is a little dumpy fellow that looks like he needs a keeper. And, oh, boy,
does he need a keeper
! Such a dumbhead!”

“Da?” the peasant replied.

“Who’s got the Russian-American dictionary?” the leader of the mysterious strangers demanded.