William Johnston - Max Smart and the Ghastly Ghost Affair

“Well, don’t think I’m not obliged,” the old prospector said. “That’s right nice of you. I’ll just disappear now and let you get about it. When you finish up, whistle or something, and I’ll reappear-if I can-and see you off on your trip to wherever it is you’ll be going. In the meantime-”

“Hold it,” Max said. “First, there are a couple things you’ll have to do for us.”

The old prospector nodded knowingly. “Always a catch to it,” he said. “Things haven’t changed so much. What do you want me to do-split my gold with you?”

Max shook his head. “Nothing like that. First, I want you to get us out of here.”

“That might be fixed,” the old prospector said.

“Then, help us find our Coolidge-head penny.”

The old prospector eyed Max narrowly. “Penny, I know,” he said. “Head, I know, too. But what’s a Coolidge?”

“That’s an ex-president. His head is on the coin. He’s wearing an Indian headdress. Feathers.”

“Feathers to you, too, bub.”

“I mean Coolidge is wearing feathers on his head. But, just so you’ll be able to recognize it, it also looks a little like Abraham Lincoln standing on his head. If you have a vivid imagination, that is. The feathers look like his beard.”

“But suppose when I find it I look at it upside-down?” the old prospector said. “Then it won’t look like Lincoln standing on his head. It’ll look like some total stranger right-side-up only with his beard on his head instead of on his chin. How’ll I know it’s not just some ordinary penny like all the others?”

“That’s a problem,” Max admitted. “Tell you what. When you find a penny you’re in doubt about, check with me. I’ll recognize it.”

“All right, that’s agreed,” the old prospector said. “I’ll show you how to get out of here, then I’ll pitch in and help you locate that feather-head penny, and then you’ll wrap them strangers up and haul them out of town and leave me in peace to look for my lost vein of gold.”

“Very neatly put,” Max replied. “Although, actually, these days, nothing is really quite that simple. For in-”

“Max, just say ‘yes!’ ” 99 begged.

“Yes,” Max said to the old prospector. “Now, how do we get out of here?”

Carrying the lamp and followed by the mule and Max and 99, the old prospector moved to the tunnel entrance. He held the lantern high, inspecting the pile of rocks. “Looks like a job for Madame DuBarry,” he said.

“Oh? One of your ghost lady friends?”

“That’s my mule,” the old prospector replied. He faced the mule and addressed it. “See that pile of rocks there in the doorway hole?” he said. “What I want you to do is, I want you to kick them out of the way.”

The mule stared at the rocks for a moment. Then it turned around and with its hind hoofs gave the pile of rocks a vicious kick. The rocks flew in all directions, as if blasted out by an explosion.

“That’s marvelous!” Max said.

“Yup. Too bad I didn’t think of it a hundred-year-or-so ago when I got caught in this tunnel by a rock slide,” the old prospector said. “The idea just come to me a couple days ago. But. . live and learn, they say, eh?”

Max and 99 hurried from the tunnel. A second later, the old prospector and the mule followed them out into the light. Max pointed toward the cluster of buildings. “They’re down there somewhere,” he said. “In the hotel, probably. Or perhaps in the barbershop. Or maybe- But, that’s not important. First, we’ll go to the saloon.”

“I’ll drink to that,” the old prospector said.

“We’ll go to the saloon to find the Coolidge-head penny,” Max explained. “It dropped through a crack in the floor.”

“I got a better idea,” the old prospector said. “First, let’s lock up them strangers and make lost veins of gold safe for cranky old prospectors, like you said you were going to do. After that, we’ll look for the penny.”

Max shook his head. “I need the penny first,” he said. “You see, I’ll rub it. And then the Chief, back in Washington, will get the signal, and he’ll send a squad of Control agents out here, and they’ll surround the hotel or the barbershop or wherever the KAOS agents are holding their meeting, and they’ll take them captive and transport them back to Washington and lock them up. But first I have to- Why are you looking at me that way?”

“You’re going to rub a penny and somebody’s going to hear it in Washington? I know Indians’ve got good hearing. But it’s not that good.”

“What Indians?”

“The Chief, you said.”

“The Chief of Control-not an Indian chief,” Max explained. “And it’s not that he’ll hear me rubbing the coin. It isn’t as simple as that. This is an electronic- No, that won’t mean anything to you, will it? I’ll just have to start at the beginning. Once upon a time, you see, there was a Founding Father named Benjamin Franklin who liked to fly his kite in thunder storms. Well, one day-”

“Max,” 99 broke in, “couldn’t you, just for once, give a simple answer? We don’t have time for a full explanation.”

“You’re right, 99,” Max said. He turned back to the old prospector. “It’s magic,” he said.

“Now, you’re making sense,” the old man told him.

Cautiously, and as quietly as possible considering that the pots and pans dangling from the pack on the mule’s back were clanging, Max, 99, the old prospector and the mule made their way down the hillside toward the town.

“Can you do something with those pans?” Max said to the old prospector.

“Sure. I cook in them. What do you think I have them for? Just to keep the mule from getting lost?”

“What I mean is, isn’t there some way you can keep them quiet?”

“Well. . I don’t need them any more, since I don’t cook,” the old prospector replied. “So, I guess I could get rid of them. A ghost don’t eat, you know. Anything a ghost eats, it goes straight on through and drops to the ground. Who wants to eat stuff that’s dropping on the ground all the time?”

Max halted the march. “The pans. . please?”

The old prospector unfastened the pots and pans from the pack and tossed them aside. They went banging and clattering down the hill.

“Why don’t you just go down there to the hotel and make a general announcement to those KAOS assassins that we’re coming,” Max said sarcastically.

“You sure don’t know much about sneaking up on folks,” the old prospector said. “That’s no way to do it. You got to take them by surprise.”

Max decided there was nothing to be gained by further discussion. He motioned and proceeded and 99 and the old prospector and the mule tagged after him again. Soon, they reached the bottom of the hill. Then, Max led them into town. When he saw that they would have to pass the hotel, where he assumed the seminar was in progress, to get to the saloon, he signalled the march to a halt.

“We’ll have to keep down,” he said in a hushed tone. “If those KAOS assassins spot us, all is lost. There are too many of them for us to handle alone. Now, everyone down. Flat on the ground. From here to the saloon, we’ll crawl on our bellies.”

“That sounds kind of dumb to me,” the old prospector said.

“It just so happens that it’s a generally accepted military tactic,” Max replied. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘an army travels on its stomach?’ ”

“I heard it. But I never believed it,” the old prospector said. “How about the mules? Look at Madame DuBarry-you think you’re going to get her down on her belly? She’s got too much dignity for that.”

“All right-everybody stoop, then,” Max said, compromising.