Get Smart 7 - Max Smart - The Spy Who Went Out to the Cold (15 page)

“Yeah, I know that sub,” the man broke in. “They got a dock for it about a mile up the coast. It makes regular trips, picking up all the secret agents that it’s their vacation time. They used to park out there in the briny deep and send a rubber raft ashore. But it was a ricky-tick nuisance. So they got themselves some money from Congress and had a harbor dug out and a dock put in. Money’s the answer to everything.”

“That must be where the sub is supposed to meet us, Max,” 99 said.

“You secret agents going on vacation?” the smuggler asked.

“Secret agents only,” Max replied. “I’m Agent 86, this is Agent 99, and this is— Von BOOM? Von BOOM—where are you?”

“You mean that dumpy little fella that looks like he needs a keeper?” the smuggler asked. “He took off. It was right after you got here. I said I’d had a tip about the secret police, and—”

“Tip!” Max cried.

“After him, Max!”

Max and 99 plunged into the darkness.

“Von BOOM!” Max called.

“You don’t have to shout!” the smuggler shouted after them.

Hurrying, Max and 99 followed the shoreline. They raced on and on, calling out to the Professor every few minutes, but getting no reply.

“Oh, Max, he’s lost!” 99 wailed.

“Then he must be somewhere in this vicinity,” Max replied, “because we’re lost, too.” He shouted again. “Von BOOM!”

“It’s no use, Max.”

“I think I see our mistake, 99,” Max said. “When he heard the word tip, he headed for a restaurant. And all the restaurants are probably back in town. That’s where we should be.”

“Which way is it, Max?”

“According to my calculations, 99, it should be directly to the . . . yes, to the left. Hurry—we’ve lost a lot of time.”

Again, Max and 99 plunged into the darkness.

A few moments later, 99 said, “Max . . . I’m getting water in my shoes.”

“So am I, 99.”

“Water in my shoes up to my knees, Max.”

“Yes, well, apparently we should have gone to the right, 99. This way, I think we’re going to reach Alaska before we ever reach that Russian town. Let’s try the other direction.”

They waded ashore, then plunged into the darkness again.

“Max . . . I hear something.”

“That’s my shoes squishing, 99.”

“No, Max, this is—”

“Yes, I hear it, too, 99. Shh!” Max listened for a second. Then he called out. “Hello, there! Is that you?”

A voice answered from the darkness. “No. He’s about a mile back. Are you looking for some smuggled rock ’n’ roll records?”

“We’re looking for a dumpy little man who looks like he needs a keeper,” Max replied.

“What label is it on?”

“Not a record—a real man!” 99 said.

“Hey—that’s good!” How do you change your voice like that?”

“Max,” 99 said, “this may be the submarine.”

“You’re right, 99.” Again, he called out. “Where is the dock?”

“If you’re from a Congressional Investigating Committee, what dock?” the voice replied. “If not, it’s a little bit to the left.”

Max and 99 steered to the left and proceeded.

“Max . . . I’m getting water in my shoes again . . .”

“Sorry about that,” the voice from the darkness said. “I meant my left, not your left.”

Max and 99 backed up, then, steering to the right, moved forward again. After a moment, they felt metal underfoot.

“We’re on the sub, Max,” 99 said.

“Where are you?” Max called out.

“Part of me is right beneath you,” the voice replied. It seemed to be no more than an inch or so away.

“You mean you went below?”

“No, you’re standing on my foot.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m 86,” he said. “And this young lady with me is 99.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” the voice replied. “But neither one of you sounds to me like you’re a day over thirty-five. Voices sound younger in the dark, I guess.”

“Agent 86 and Agent 99,” Max explained.

“Oh. Good. I’ve been expecting you. I’m Captain Jinx. I’m sorry I didn’t identify myself right away. But there are a lot of Russian spies wandering around out here tonight, and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Really? Russian spies?” 99 said.

“I caught one,” Captain Jinx replied. “He claimed to be looking for a restaurant. Likely story, eh?”

“Is he a little dumpy fellow who looks as if he needs a keeper?” Max asked.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him. We’re keeping the lights off so we won’t be spotted by Russian spies.”

“Could you bring him upstairs?” Max said. “I’d like to get a look at him in the moonlight. He may be Professor von BOOM.”

“Shh! Don’t shout! The whole area is crawling with Russian spies.”

The Captain disappeared—below presumably—then returned a few minutes later. He was accompanied by a small dumpy man who, in the moonlight, looked as if he needed a keeper.

“Professor!” 99 cried happily.

“Can’t you two leave well enough alone?” von BOOM grumbled. “I was having mess. The first good American French fries I’ve had in weeks.”

“Well, Captain, I guess we can set sail,” Max said. “We’re all aboard, it seems.”

“Good, good,” the Captain replied. He shouted into the darkness. “Cast off that line!”

“What?” a different voice replied.

“Untie the rope, you landlubber!” the Captain yelled. Then he explained to Max. “I use the local peasants to act as my shore crew,” he said. “It makes for good relations. I pay them union rates.”

“And they let you dock here to pick up spies?”

“Money can do anything,” Captain Jinx replied.

The Captain led the way and they climbed down through a hatch. When they were below and the hatch-cover was in place, the Captain switched on a light.

“Well, here we are, all cozy and—”

“Max!” 99 cried. “Von BOOM! He’s gone!”

“Line!” Max groaned. “The Captain mentioned ‘line!’ He’s on his way to the post office!”

Captain Jinx laughed loudly. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “Relax!”

“But von BOOM is gone.”

“I know, I know. But it’s all right. He’ll never get into the post office. It closed about an hour ago.”

“You don’t understand,” Max began. “He—”

“Max! There isn’t time!”

“You’re right, 99. After him!”

Max scrambled up the ladder. 99 scrambled up right behind him. Max threw open the hatchcover and climbed out on deck. 99 climbed out right behind him.

Max jumped for the dock.

“How deep is it down there, Max?” 99 called from the deck.

“Only up to my chin, 99.”

99 jumped after him.

They swam to the shore, climbed out, then plunged into the darkness, racing along the beach.

“Max . . .” 99 panted “. . . we should be heading for town. That’s where the post office is . . .”

Max stopped. “You’re right, 99. Now, let’s see, the last time, we turned left—and ended up in the water. But then, we were heading in the other direction. Which means that this time we would be right to head left.”

“What, Max?”

“I said left is right.”

“That’s what I was afraid you said.”

“But even if it works out that left is right, 99, you and I know it will turn out to be wrong. So, actually, right is right. Right?”

“Whatever you say, Max.”

“This way, 99.”

They turned right and plunged into the darkness again.

“Max . . .”

“It could happen to anybody, 99. All we have to do is turn around and go in the other direction.”

They waded back to shore, then, once more, plunged into the darkness.

“Von BOOM!” Max shouted.

There was no reply.

“Oh, Max . . . he’s lost!” 99 wailed.

“Nonsense, 99. We know he’s in Russia. It’s just a matter of narrowing it down a bit.”

Tiring, Max and 99 trudged on. The first light of dawn appeared in the sky. And then suddenly they heard a voice. It seemed somehow familiar.

“I’ll sell you one, man,” the voice said. “But, I’ll tell you this: it won’t do you no good. It won’t fit in a mail slot.”

“Von BOOM!” 99 cried.

They rushed ahead and found the Professor standing in the prow of a row boat that was stacked high with phonograph records. Facing him was a young man who was dressed as a sailor.

“Professor, come along,” 99 urged. “We have to get back to the submarine.”

“No, 99, it’s too late for that,” Max said. “That sub is already at sea. We’ll have to take this row boat.”

“I think you’re right, Max.”

“You couldn’t be no wronger, Max,” the young man broke in. “I got to wait here for my contact. If I’m not here with these rock ’n’ roll records when he shows up, he won’t trust me no more. In the smuggling business, you got to protect your reputation.”

“There happens to be a crisis afoot,” Max said.

The smuggler scowled. “Which foot is that, right or left? I never did know.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Max said. “It’s an emergency. The future of the whole U.S. space program depends on getting Professor von BOOM to the North Pole by way of Alaska.”

The smuggler looked at von BOOM. “Man, if it depends on that, it’s too sick to make it, anyway,” he replied.

“In that case, I’ll have to use my authority,” Max said. “In the name of the government, I hereby commandeer this row boat.”

“Man, you can’t do that!” the young man said. “Where do you think you are—in Russia?”

“It’s done,” Max said. “Shove off!”

Grumbling, the young man got out of the boat, gave it a push, sending it out into the water, then jumped back aboard. He and Max began rowing toward Alaska.

When they had passed out of sight of land, Max said, “I’m sorry that this is necessary, but you understand, I’m sure.”

“I don’t understand it a-tall, man,” the young man replied. “I was doing myself some free-enterprise smuggling, and all of a sudden the government come along and took over. It’s un-American.”

“Actually, it’s only a slight inconvenience,” Max argued. “As soon as we reach Alaska, you can drop us off, then you can row back to Russia with your smuggled records. Very simple.”

“When we reach Alaska, the Coast Guard will be waiting for us,” the young man said. “And when they see these smuggled records, they’ll get nasty, man.”

“He’s right, Max,” 99 said. “If we get caught, there’ll be a lot of explaining to do.”

“Mmmmm . . . and we don’t have time for that,” Max mused.

“Let’s turn back,” the young man said.

“I have a better idea,” Max replied. “We’ll dump the records overboard.”

The young man shook his head sadly. “Man, you sure work for the government, all right.”

“You keep rowing,” Max said, rising. “I’ll get rid of the records.” He bent down, picked up a stack of records, then headed toward the stern of the boat with it.

Unfortunately, he tripped over his own oar. The stack of records fell from his hands—and crashed through the bottom of the boat.

“Max . . . I’m getting water in my shoes,” 99 said.

“About two seconds and you’re going to have water in your ears,” the young man said. “This row boat is going to sink like a row boat full of records.”

“Max! We’re going down!”

“Everybody overboard!” Max shouted. “Abandon boat!”

“Anybody notice anything funny?” the young man said.

“I do,” 99 replied. “Max—look! The boat is rising!”

“It’s got a submarine under it!” the young man said, surprised. “Now, isn’t that one for the books. I’ve had this ol’ nitty-gritty boat for almost five years, and I never noticed that submarine down there before.”

“It’s a Navy sub,” Max informed him.

“Then somebody hide those records. The Navy and the Coast Guard are in cahoots!”

“Max! We’re saved!” 99 cried ecstatically. “The submarine will take us to Alaska!”

“That’s very nice, 99,” Max said gruffly. “But it isn’t all
that
nice, you know.”

“Why not, Max?”

“I’m going to have a dickens of a time when I begin making out my report on this mission,” Max replied. “How will I say we got to Alaska—by submarine or row boat?”

I
T WAS MID-DAY
when the submarine reached the coast of Alaska. In the meantime, the evidence—the row boat and the rock ’n’ roll records—had been lost at sea.

“Are you sure that’s Alaska?” Max said to Captain Jinx as they stood on the deck viewing the shore. “From here, it looks green.”

“It’s always that color from here,” Captain Jinx replied.

“Very strange. On my map, it’s yellow.”

“I’ve been making this trip for years—Alaska to Russia, Russia to Alaska, Alaska to Russia, Russia to Alaska—and Alaska has always been in this very spot,” Captain Jinx insisted. “If you were standing on the shore, you could see that I’m right.”

“How’s that?”

“You could see this submarine out here. And right now this submarine is scheduled to be arriving in Alaska.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Max said.

Max called 99, von BOOM and the smuggler up on deck. Then a rubber raft was lowered for them.

As they climbed into it, Max called back to the Captain, “Shall we leave this raft on the beach for you?”

“Take it with you,” Captain Jinx replied. “There’s plenty more where that one came from.”

“It would just be a nuisance,” Max replied.

“You won’t think so when you start getting ice water in your shoes.”

“Pardon?”

“There’s a good stretch of Arctic Ocean between Alaska and the North Pole,” Captain Jinx explained.

“Oh. In that case, we’ll keep it.”

“Why not? There’s plenty more where that one came from.”

Max pushed off and he and the smuggler rowed and the raft soon reached the shore. When they were all safely on land, Max deflated the rubber raft and tucked it into his back pocket. Then, after goodbyes were said, the smuggler turned south, and Max, 99 and von BOOM headed north.

In the early evening, Max, 99 and von BOOM reached a highway. They began thumbing and were soon picked up by a truck driver, who advised them that he was on his way to Barrow, Alaska’s northernmost city.

“Is that on the way to the North Pole?” Max asked.

“If that’s were you’re going, it is,” the driver replied. “But then, if you’re heading for Florida, it’s on the way to Florida, too. Is that where you’re going—the Pole?”