William Johnston - Get Smart Once Again!

“That’s right.”

Peaches screamed. “Help! Somebody! Help! We’re lost!”

“If I were thin-skinned, I’d consider that as evidence of a lack of confidence in my ability,” Max said.

“Help!”

At that moment, a man in an usher’s uniform appeared. He was stooped, and had a long white beard. He looked to be about one-hundred-and-ninety.

“At your service, Mr. Smart,” the man creaked.

“Just in time, Willowby,” Max said.

Peaches pointed. “Who’s he?”

“This is Willowby, our head usher,” Max replied. “You see, we were losing so many secret agents down here we had to put in guides. That was years ago. We haven’t lost a secret agent since. That is, none of ours, anyway.” He turned to Willowby. “Isn’t that true?”

“That’s true,” Willowby replied. “And I ought to know-I’ve been down here from the first.”

“All right, Willowby,” Max said, “which way to the secret exit?”

Willowby pointed to the entrance to a tunnel. “That way, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh… Mr. Smart,” Willowby said, “one thing. I haven’t been out lately, you know. What’s the news on the outside?”

“World, national or local?”

“Well… how is the President doing these days?”

“I’m afraid, Willowby, that he’s having a bit of a hard time with some of the members of the Senate.”

“That’s too bad,” Willowby said. Then he smiled. “But Mr. Lincoln can handle it.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure he can,” Max said. He turned to Peaches. “Shall we flee?”

As they proceeded down the tunnel, Max again put his mind to deciphering the Plan. “So far,” he said, “we have three men in a Trojan horse. Now, the next phrase is ‘Map Change.’ That’s pretty clear. These three men in a Trojan horse intend to change the map. But how would they do it? I suppose they could collect all the maps in the world and draw in false lines. But that would take too long. What’s the next word?”

“Three Bs,” Peaches replied. “And please be quiet.”

“Three Bs. Of course! Three bombs! Three men in a Trojan horse intend to change the map of the world with three bombs! Super-destructive bombs, no doubt.”

Ahead of them, an aged voice called out. “Halt! Who goes there?”

“That would be Ponsenby, the second usher,” Max explained to Peaches.

They approached the man, who, like Willowby, was stooped and had a long white beard. “Oh… Mr. Smart,” he said. “Are you lost again?”

“If I were lost, would I be here?” Max replied sharply.

“I thought maybe you bungled into the right tunnel-like the last time.”

“Never mind that,” Max said. “Which way to the secret exit?”

Ponsenby pointed. “Thataway.”

They started to go, then Max stopped and turned back to Ponsenby. “Incidentally, if you’re interested,” he said, “Mr. Lincoln is having trouble with the Senate.”

“Don’t give me that,” Ponsenby said. “Lincoln was assassinated.”

“Oh. How did you hear?”

“Heard it from a fellow who was passing through here. A John Wilkes Booth.”

“Oh… yes.”

“Actor fellow,” Ponsenby said. “I asked him to do me some imitations. But he was in too big a hurry. Had to go hide in a barn, he said. Didn’t say why.”

Max saluted. “Keep alert, Ponsenby.”

“Don’t I always?”

Max and Peaches continued along the tunnel.

“Is it much further?” Peaches complained.

“Try not to think about it. Concentrate on the code.”

“How can I with you babbling in my ear?”

“Shh!” Max said. “I’m trying to think.”

Peaches turned her attention back to the Plan.

“Three men in a Trojan horse intend to change the map of the world with three super-destructive bombs,” Max mused. “Now, how could they do that? Simple. By setting off those bombs in the three main capitals of the world, that’s how. A bomb in Moscow. A bomb in Peking, And a bomb in New York.”

“New York isn’t the capital,” Peaches said. “Washington is the capital.”

“Yes, I know, that’s what they think in Washington. But in the eyes of the world, New York is the capital. Blow up Washington, and what do you get? A few politicians. But blow up New York and you destroy the symbol that holds the whole nation together.”

“The Statue of Liberty, you mean.”

“No, the Automat. Where else can you get a piece of apple pie for a nickel? That’s what we’re fighting for, you know. Mom’s apple pie. And the Automat turns out a piece of apple pie that makes Mom’s taste like warmed over glue. Yes, I think I’ve got it. The code is broken. The Plan is revealed. Definitely. Three men in a Trojan horse- Strike that. Make that three men in three Trojan horses. Three men in three Trojan horses will change the map of the world by exploding three super-destructive bombs in the three main capitals of the world-Moscow, Peking and New York.”

“What about the word ‘watch’? You left that out.”

“It’s obvious. Three men in three Trojan horses with three bombs in the three main capitals of the world. That would be something to ‘watch.’ ”

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re jealous-because I broke the code before you did. Nevertheless, since I am in command of this mission, we will assume that my interpretation of the Plan is correct. And we will proceed to the three main capitals of the world.”

“But why?”

“Well, as long as we’re running, we may as well do something constructive. My idea is to go to the three capitals, find the KAOS headquarters in each of those cities, infiltrate the headquarters, and foil the plot.”

“How, exactly?”

“Well, when we get inside the headquarters, we’ll look for a Trojan horse. That’s something that won’t be easy to hide. And, once we find the horses, we’ll take them apart, mane by mane, and hoof by hoof, and sadal by sadal.”

“Sadal by sadal?”

“The code-maker-uppers at KAOS aren’t the only lousy spellers in this world, you know.”

“Just for the sake of intelligent conversation,” Peaches said, “let me tell you what I’m beginning to get from the code.”

“Later. We’re coming to the elevator.”

Peaches looked. “Where does that take us?”

“Up,” Max replied. “It takes us to the manhole in the deserted section of town that is, in fact, a cleverly disguised secret exit.”

They boarded the elevator and Mas punched the ‘up’ button.

“What happens if you punch the ‘down’ button?” Peaches asked.

“You go down, naturally. To the sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-basement.”

“That’s pretty far down.”

“Yes, and very unpleasant. The temperature down there sometimes gets up to 150 degrees. It’s as hot as- Well, as I said, it’s extremely uncomfortable.”

“Will you let me tell you what I’ve deciphered so far?”

“Why not? I’m always willing to listen.”

“Well,” Peaches said, “I’ve been using the Hoppman method. Hoppman was a sixth-grade math teacher in Framingham, Massachusetts, who stumbled onto the method by accident. He was always confusing the number ‘3’ with the letter ‘B.’ Whenever he saw the number ‘3,’ he would say, ‘Who left the stick off this letter B?’ And, after that, naturally, he evolved his method.”

“That’s a good basis,” Max said. “The same thing used to happen to me. Except that it was with the number ‘1’ and the letter ‘l.’ I could never tell them apart. I used to spell the word ‘sadal’ with a one at the end.”

“Anyway,” Peaches went on, “using the Hoppman method, I gave every phrase the value of six, then multiplied it by itself in series.”