William Johnston: Missed It By That Much!

“Your wish is my command, Chief,” Max said, heading toward the door. “Which is a lot more than you’d ever get from that trouble-maker Arnold, I’ll wager.”

The Chief and 99 exchanged looks of resignation, then 99 trotted after Max.

When Max and 99 reached Research amp; Development they were greeted enthusiastically by the scientist in charge, Dr. Hyde. “We have a whole carload of new gadgets for you to experience test,” he said. “I have them right here in my pocket.”

“A whole carload? In your pocket?”

“Miniaturization,” Dr. Hyde explained. “It’s the latest wrinkle in scientific development. Everything is reduced to the smallest possible size.” He withdrew a capsule about the size of a tube of lipstick from his pocket. “What would you say this contains? Guess?”

“A twenty-mule team?” Max speculated.

“Nope. Just watch.”

Dr. Hyde pressed a button at the bottom of the capsule. A lipstick popped out.

“Oops!” he said. “Wrong capsule. That belongs to my wife.” He got another capsule from his pocket. “Guess again.”

“Twelve thousand gallons of liquid plastic,” Max said.

Dr. Hyde looked woebegone. “You peeked!” he charged.

“Honest Injun, I didn’t,” Max protested. “It was just a lucky guess.”

“Well. . all right,” Dr. Hyde said doubtfully. He handed the capsule to Max. “Take it with you. And use it if you get the chance.”

“Isn’t it pretty unlikely that I’ll run into a situation where I’ll need twelve thousand gallons of liquid plastic?” Max said.

“I can think of an instance,” Dr. Hyde replied. “That plastic is kept in that tube under tremendous pressure, you know. And when it’s released and it’s exposed to air it hardens. So it might come in handy.”

“How so?”

“Well, suppose you got your finger caught in a telephone dial. And you were dangling over an open trap door. You could aim the spray downward, spray out enough plastic to form a mountain-a small mountain, of course-then, standing on the mountain, release your finger, and, free, climb down the mountain.”

Max took another look at the capsule. “I guess it’s not as impractical as I first thought.”

“Max, hadn’t we better hurry?” 99 said. “We have to get to the airport.”

“You’re right,” Max said.

“Here, take these with you,” Dr. Hyde said, handing Max a half-dozen or so additional capsules. “They’re labeled. That means they have little stickers on them so you can tell what they are.”

“I know what labeled means,” Max said testily.

“I like to be sure,” Dr. Hyde said. “We scientists are always being blamed for things. And it’s because nobody understands us. At least, that’s what they say-afterwards. But this way, if I make sure you understand me, when something goes wrong, you can’t put the blame on me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Max said. He motioned to 99 and they headed toward the door.

“So long,” Dr. Hyde called. “That means good-bye.”

Max and 99 left the headquarters building, and, standing at the curb, began signalling for a cab. But all of the cabs that appeared were occupied.

“Max, the Chief will be furious if we miss that plane,” 99 said.

“I know, 99. But what can we do? All of these- Wait a minute, here comes a cab now.”

A taxi pulled up at the curb and stopped in front of them. The rear door opened and a befuddled-looking young man got out. Then a middle-aged woman appeared. But she remained in the cab, peering out the rear window.

“Excuse me,” the woman said to Max, “but could you direct my son to Control Headquarters?”

Max looked at the young man, who winced and backed off a step. Then he replied to the woman. “I’m not sure I should,” he said. “It’s a secret organization, you know. And if I go around pointing it out to everyone who drives up in a cab, it won’t stay secret very long. Could you tell me why you’re looking for it?”

“Secret agents never tell,” the woman replied.

Max beamed. “Oh. . you’re a secret agent. Why didn’t you say so?” He pointed to the headquarters building. “It’s right over there.”

“I hope I didn’t get that information under false pretenses,” the woman said. “It’s not me who’s a secret agent. It’s my son. Although, to be absolutely truthful, he isn’t exactly a secret agent yet.” She spoke to the young man. “Go on, dear. It’s that building right over there. Just walk right in and ask for the Chief.”

The young man ambled off toward the building.

“He still needs looking after,” the woman said to Max. “He’s only thirty-two-just a baby.”

“You say he intends to be a secret agent?” Max said dubiously, watching the young man approach the entrance to headquarters.

“It’s his sister-in-law’s idea,” the woman explained. She waved fondly to her son. “Good luck, Arnold!”

After an all-night flight, the airliner carrying Max and 99 reached Pahzayk, the capital city of New Ghirzy. As the plane circled the field, preparing to land, Max and 99 looked down on the city from a window.

“Why do you suppose Dr. Livingstrom came here, Max?” 99 said. “Pahzayk doesn’t look very interesting to me.”

“If you think about it for a second, the answer is pretty obvious,” Max replied. “As you can see, this is a waterfront town. And, we know that Dr. Livingstrom is a fancier of fancy dishes. Putting two and two together, we can deduce that he came here because he had a sudden, hankering for some fancy sea food. African lobster tails would be my guess.”

“Max, you’re so clever!”

The plane soon landed. Max and 99 passed through customs, then took a taxi to the center of town. Reaching there, they checked into a hotel. And, after taking their luggage to their rooms, they met again in the lobby.

“What’s the plan, Max?” 99 said.

“I think we better start making the rounds of the restaurants that specialize in way-out foods,” Max replied. “Dr. Livingstrom has undoubtedly eaten at one or two of them. And, if we’re lucky, a waiter may remember having seen him.”

“That’s brilliant, Max!”

“Let’s just hope that our adversary, Whitestone, didn’t think of it,” Max said. “If he did, we may already be too late.”

They left the hotel and got into a taxi and asked the driver to take them to a restaurant that served exotic foods. A few minutes later the cab dropped them at a place called the Greasy Ladle. When they entered they were met by a headwaiter who escorted them to a table and gave them a menu.

“Just a second there, fella,” Max said, as the headwaiter started to leave. “We don’t know much about fancy foods. Could you recommend something?”

The headwaiter glanced about, making sure he couldn’t be overheard, then replied in a low voice. “You want some advice? Here it is: go to another restaurant. The food they serve here, you wouldn’t believe it.” He took the menu from Max and pointed to an item. “Look at that! Breast of White Dove stuffed with Chocolate-Covered Cherries! Is that food for a human being? Or, look at this! Baked Tongue!”

“That’s not so bad,” Max said. “As a matter of fact, I like tongue.”

“You know where they got this tongue?”

“Calf?”

The headwaiter shook his head. “From the left shoe of a pair of old sneakers. Believe me, the only place you could get worse food is at home. Every night, after I have dinner here, I get a bum-bum in my tum-tum.”

“If it’s so terrible, why do you eat here?” 99 asked.

“I own the place,” the headwaiter replied. “What should I do, give my business to my competitor?”