Get Smart 7 - Max Smart - The Spy Who Went Out to the Cold (14 page)

Apparently one of his followers quickly handed it over to him. For, a minute or so later, he began addressing the peasant in his native tongue. Max recognized only one word—dumbhead. Evidently the peasant did not understand much more than that, either. He kept responding with one word—da, da, da, da, da.

“Is very clear!” the leader of the mysterious strangers said finally. “He is saying, yes, he does not know vere the dumbhead is. Let’s go! Vee find him!”

The door closed.

Max crawled out from under the bed and returned to the main room. “I want to thank you,” he said to the peasant and his wife. “That was very clever. You made him think you couldn’t understand a word he was saying.”

The peasant brightened. He pointed to Max. “Dumbhead!” he beamed.

“Yes, yes, I’m the dumbhead,” Max nodded. “Now then, can you help me get away?”

The peasant tapped Max’s chest with a forefinger, his grin growing broader. “Dumbhead!” he repeated.

“We’re not accomplishing anything,” Max muttered. Once more, he got out his Russian-English dictionary. “Let’s see now . . .” he said, paging through it. “I want to get to the ocean . . . water . . . but I want to get there without being seen . . . that is, to stay hidden . . . hide . . .”

“Da?”

“Hold it a second,” Max said. “I’m working this out. I need the word for— Ah, here it is!” He closed the dictionary and addressed the peasant. “Droski hobbit. Bibnik. Ish Kabibble. Da?”

The peasant’s eyes opened wide. He turned to his wife. “Droski hobbit?” he said incredulously.

She giggled. “Bibnik,” she replied.

“It may sound a little silly to you,” Max said. “But, you see, those men who were looking for me were KAOS agents. They’re angry because I unhooked their special car. That made them lose Professor von BOOM. If you can provide me with transportation to the ocean, though, I’ll be safe. I’ll call the Chief on my shoe and have him send a submarine for me. Is that clear?”

The peasant smiled and pointed at Max again. “Dumbhead!” he said.

“You’re right on the verge of running that into the ground,” Max warned. “Now, how about my transportation?”

“Ish kabibble?”

“Yes, I would appreciate it,” Max nodded.

The peasant led the way from the house. He, Max and his wife went to the barn, where the peasant gestured toward a cow that was standing docilely in a stall.

“Am I supposed to ride it?” Max asked. “Don’t you have something with a motor?”

“Da?”

“All right—da.”

The peasant led the cow from the stall. Max climbed up on its back. “I hope I’m not going to get a lot of stares,” he said. “I’m a secret agent, you know.”

The peasant’s wife tossed a rope over Max. “Bibnik,” she giggled, beginning to tie Max to the cow.

“No, no, ish kabibble!” Max protested.

The peasant yelped delightedly. “Ish kabibble?” he asked, as if he could hardly believe.

“Da!” Max cried. “Ish kabibble!”

Following directions, the peasant walloped the cow on the left flank. Stung, the animal bounded forward. Off it raced, past the pig pen, across the field, with Max clinging to its back.

At the barn, the peasant and his wife looked at each other. The wife raised her eyes, signifying complete bafflement.

“Dumbhead,” the peasant explained.

The cow galloped on, with Max hanging onto its neck and protesting loudly—but ineffectively, since he did not know the word to stop a Russian cow from ish kabibbling.

Then suddenly Max spotted the men from the train. They were tramping back across the field toward the tracks.

“Back!” Max shouted at the cow, trying to turn it.

The cow, knowing no English, paid no attention. Unfortunately, the mysterious strangers heard and understood.

“It’s him—the dumbhead!” the leader shouted, as the cow and Max approached.

“Who’s he got on his back?” a second voice asked.

“He’s the one on top! Get him!”

The cow reached the mysterious strangers. The mysterious strangers snatched Max from the back of the cow. The cow galloped on into the night. Max rested in the grip of the mysterious strangers.

“You dumbhead!” the leader roared.

“Frankly, I’ll admit, it hasn’t been my best day,” Max said. “I haven’t lost a train and a cow, both on the same day, in a long time.”

“Will you get it over with?” one of the mysterious strangers who was holding Max said to the leader. “I’d like to get back to bed.”

“Right—get it over with,” Max said. “I took my chance, and I muffed it. Now, I’m ready to die like the good Control agent I am.”

“Vot he say?” the leader asked.

“He’s out of his head,” one of the men replied. “Riding a cow bareback will do it every time.”

Max yawned. “I could use some sleep, too,” he said. “So, if you KAOS people are going to kill me . . .”

The leader backed away from him, appalled. “Don’t say dot!”

Max peered at him. “You
are
a KAOS agent, aren’t you?”

The leader hesitated. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “Vot is it?”

“If you don’t know, you’re not,” Max answered. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it—you’re not. But, if you’re not—why were you chasing me?”

One of the other mysterious strangers indicated the leader. “He has something to tell you,” he said.

Max faced the leader. “Yes?” he asked, interested.

The leader drew himself up, then shouted,
“You are a dumbhead!”

Max nodded. “Oh.” He looked around at the faces of the men. “If you’re not KAOS agents, who are you?” he asked.

“We’re members of the Peoria, Illinois, Symphony Orchestra,” one of the mysterious strangers replied. “We’re on a cultural exchange visit. We’re giving concerts all over Russia.”

“You mean you’re carrying musical instruments in those musical instrument cases?” Max said.

“Vot else?” the leader asked.

Max eyed him narrowly. “If you’re from Peoria, Illinois, how come you have an accent?” he asked.

“Vot accent?”

“He’s our conductor,” one of the other men explained. “He’s from Germany. All American symphony conductors are from Germany. It’s kind of a rule.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Max said. “When we were on that train, and you passed me and my friends on your way to the dining car, you stared at us in a very mysterious way. If you’re not KAOS agents, why did you do that?”

“You looked like Americans,” one of the men replied. “We wondered what you were doing on the Trans Siberian Railroad.”

“Would you believe that I’m a secret agent, and that I’m escorting a very important scientist to the North Pole?” Max asked.

“No.”

“Good,” Max said. “Because it’s a secret, and I wouldn’t want it blabbed around.”

The whole group returned to the stranded car. As they were discussing the problem of getting to their destination, they heard a train whistle.

“Is the train coming back?” one of the men asked.

“If it is, it circled us and it’s sneaking up on us from the rear,” Max replied.

“That’s tomorrow’s train,” one of the men said. “It’s early.”

“Isn’t it liable to hit us?” Max asked.

An instant later, the train plowed into the car, hooked on, and kept right on going. Two days later, it reached the end of the line, right behind the last car of the train of the day before.

99 and von BOOM were waiting for Max at the station. They stood by, perplexed, as Max said goodby to the mysterious strangers, shaking hands with each one. Then, when the men left, they rushed up to Max.

“Max. What? Who?” 99 asked.

He explained that the men were not KAOS agents, but members of the Peoria Symphony.

“Max . . . one other thing,” 99 said. “Didn’t you tell them your real name?”

“Of course, 99.”

“Then why did they all call you by that other name?”

“That’s a term of affection, 99.”

“Dumbhead?”

“Don’t push it, 99,” Max warned. “Nobody likes a pushy secret agent.”

M
AX LOOKED AROUND
the station. “Where can I find some privacy?” he said.

“What for, Max?”

“I want to telephone the Chief and arrange for a submarine to meet us when we reach the coast. We can’t wade to Alaska, you know, 99.”

99 and von BOOM looked around, too. “There are people everywhere,” 99 said. “I don’t think you’ll find any privacy here at the railroad station, Max.”

“Why don’t you call from the car on the way to the coast?” von BOOM suggested.

“Because we’re going to walk,” Max replied. “This is a secret mission. If we hired a car, we could be traced. Don’t forget, KAOS is still hot on our trail. So, we have to slip out of town without being seen. We can’t leave any leads that KAOS might follow.”

“You’re right, Max,” 99 said.

“Of course I am. Now, let’s get going. I’ll telephone the Chief as soon as we get on the road.”

With Max in the lead, they started toward the exit. But on the way he stopped at the ticket desk.

“Excuse me,” Max said to the clerk, “but could you tell me the way to the coast?”

“East coast or west coast?”

“The closest one to Alaska.”

“That’s the east coast,” the clerk replied. “It’s just east of here.”

“Thank you.”

Max started out again, then turned back.

“Ah . . . which way is east?” he asked.

The clerk pointed.

“Thank you again,” Max said.

As they left the station, 99 said, “Max, won’t the KAOS agents be able to trace us by talking to that ticket clerk?”

Max halted. He thought a moment, then replied, “You might be right, 99. Just a second.”

He returned to the ticket desk, spoke to the clerk again, then rejoined 99 and von BOOM.

“It’s all taken care of, 99,” Max said. “This time, I asked for directions to the west coast. So, any information he gives the KAOS agents will only confuse them.”

Max, 99 and von BOOM made their way through the town. When they reached the countryside, they stopped again, and Max took off his shoe and dialed.

Chief:
Chief here . . .

Max:
Aloha, Chief. Wicky-wacky and all that.

Chief:
Nevermind the aloha, Max. I’m back in Washington. I had to cut my vacation short. I got an urgent call from HIM. A crisis is afoot.

Max
(surprised): Is
that
what it is! I always thought a crisis was an emergency. Well, live and learn. Right foot or left foot, Chief?

Chief:
Max, what I meant was— Nevermind. A crisis
is
an emergency. Now, why are you calling? Have you lost von BOOM?

Max:
I’d rather hear about the crisis, Chief. Is it anything important?

Chief:
Max, I don’t know what it is. All I know is, I got a call from HIM. He ordered me to return to Washington immediately and to stand by. That’s what I’m doing.

Max:
Oh, Chief . . . why don’t you call him and ask him what the crisis is? I’d think the suspense—

Chief:
Max! Forget it! Just tell me why you called.

Max:
I’m on my way to the coast, Chief, and I want a submarine to meet us and transport us to Alaska. We can’t wade to Alaska, you know, Chief.

Chief:
I’m aware of that, Max. Where do you want the sub to meet you?

Max:
On the beach.

Chief:
But
where,
Max?

Max:
Straight east from the railroad station.

Chief:
All right. I’ll get in touch with the Navy and have them send the sub. Is that all, Max?

Max:
Chief, how’s this for an idea? Suppose I call HIM and tell him how anxious you are to know what the crisis is? He probably doesn’t realize how worried you are.

Chief:
I’m not worried, Max.

Max:
Not worried? Chief, don’t you realize there’s a crisis afoot?

(The line went dead.)

“What crisis, Max?” 99 asked, as Max hung up.

“Nobody knows, 99. Not even HIM HIMself.” He looked up the road. “We better get a move on,” he said. “We don’t want to keep that submarine waiting.”

Max, 99 and von BOOM walked all day, and then all evening. Then, shortly after dark, Max called them to a halt. He cupped an ear.

“What is it, Max?” 99 whispered.

“Either the bathtub is running over or we’re near the ocean,” Max replied.

99 and von BOOM listened.

“It
is
the ocean, Max, ” 99 said. “We’ve reached the coast.”

Slowly, cautiously, Max, 99 and von BOOM proceeded. Soon they felt sand underfoot. A while later, they heard a sound.

“It must be the sub, Max,” 99 whispered.

“I doubt it, 99. A submarine could never get this close to the shore. If it’s anything, it’s an inflatable rubber raft.”

Suddenly they heard a low whistle.

“I was right,” Max said. “It’s an inflatable rubber raft—and it’s leaking air.”

“Maybe that was a signal, Max.”

“We’ll see. Hello, there!” he called. “Is that you?”

A voice came back through the darkness. “This is me. Is that you?”

“You were right, 99—it was a signal,” Max said. “Come on, let’s get aboard the raft.”

They moved silently across the beach in the direction from which the voice had come. Then, in the dimness, they saw the figure of a man.

“I wasn’t sure it was you,” the man said. “I had a tip that the secret police might be waiting for me.”

Max halted. “You mean KAOS?” he said.

“Yeah, man, like chaos and then some. If they caught me smuggling in these rock ’n’ roll records, they’d put the smash on me.”

There was silence for a second. Then Max said, “I think there’s been a little mistake. When I asked you if you were you, why did you let me think you were?”

“I’m me, man,” the voice replied. “What’re you trying to tell me? You mean you’re not you?”

“Of course I’m me,” Max answered sharply. “You’re the one who’s not you.”

“What happened to me, then?” the man asked. “I was me when I left Alaska. Man! I didn’t know it was going to be
that
kind of trip!”

“Max, could I try?” 99 said.

“Be my guest.”

“You see,” 99 said to the man, “you’re you, but you’re not the you we were expecting. We’re looking for a submarine that—”