William Johnston: Sorry, Chief…

Operator: I’m not a human being, sir. I’m a recorded announcement.

Max: Oh… sorry about that.

Max slipped his shoe back onto his foot. “We’ll have to try something else,” he said. “The line is busy.”

“I wish we had that attache case with us,” 99 said. “Maybe R and D sent along something to cover this type of emergency.”

“99-that’s it!” Max cried.

99 looked him up and down. “You have the attache case? Where?”

“No, no, not the attache case. But I do have one of the gadgets.” He held out a hand. “See this ring?”

“Very attractive,” 99 said.

“That’s what I thought-and why I put it on my finger. Little did I know that it would also prove practical. 99, this ring contains a nerve serum.” He removed the ring and showed it to her. “See this little pin? When I shake hands with the bad guy, this pin will penetrate his flesh and inject the nerve serum into his blood stream-assuming, of course, that I’m lucky enough to hit a vein.”

“Wonderful, Max! What does the serum do?”

“It puts the bad guy in a state of paralysis for a period of two hours. In other words, it knocks him stiff.”

“How are you going to use it, Max?”

“I was afraid you’d ask that. Unfortunately, in order for this to work effectively, I have to have a bad guy to shake hands with. And, at the moment, there’s a shortage of bad guys. I have only you and Fang.”

“Maybe a bad guy will come along, Max.”

“No, the only human we’ll see while we’re in here is the waiter who will bring us our food. And it’s very unlikely that the waiter will be a bad guy. Unpleasant, perhaps. But not a genuine, bona fide bad guy.”

“Max… couldn’t we fudge a little?”

“You mean pretend that the waiter is a genuine bad guy?”

“Why not, Max? How do we know-maybe, deep down, he really will be a bad guy.”

“We’ll fudge,” Max agreed. “When our waiter arrives with our food, I’ll get him to shake hands with me and inject the serum into his blood stream-assuming, of course, that I’m lucky enough to hit a vein. Then, 99, you and I and Fang will sneak out and do a little investigating.” He brightened. “In fact, we can sneak out between all of our meals.”

“We might get caught, Max.”

“So what? Who would object to a little between meal sneak?”

The waiter arrived on schedule at dinner time. He was carrying a tray of food.

“We’re certainly glad to see you,” Max said. “We’re starving.” He put his ring hand through the bars. “Welcome.”

“Glad to be of service, sir,” the waiter replied, ignoring the hand.

“Not yet, Max!” 99 whispered. “Wait ’till he opens the door.”

“Oh… yes.”

The waiter put the tray down, then got the key from the hook.

“You look to me like a man with large veins,” Max said. “Am I right?”

“No, sir,” the waiter said, unlocking the cell door. “I come from a family of small-veined people. It’s our pride-our dainty veins.”

“Imagine that!” Max said. “I come from a dainty-veined family myself.” He extended his hand again. “Nice to meet you.”

But at that moment the waiter turned away to retrieve the tray.

“Keep trying, Max,” 99 whispered.

The waiter opened the door and entered the cell. He put the tray down on the cot. “I’ll come back for it in about an hour,” he said.

“And we’ll be happy to welcome you,” Max said heartily. “Welcome you with a merry ho-ho and a joyous handshake.” Once more he extended the hand.

The waiter smiled. “Sorry, sir. Ship’s personnel aren’t allowed to indulge in physical contact with passengers.”

Max kept the hand extended. “It’ll be our little secret,” he said.

“I would know, sir. I couldn’t sleep at night with a thing like that on my conscience.”

“We wouldn’t have to call it a handshake,” Max suggested. “We could say that you were admiring my dainty veins. What could be more natural-one dainty-veined man admiring the dainty veins of another dainty-veined man.”

The waiter shook his head. “It would be cribbing, sir.”

“Suppose, waiter, my dainty-veined hand had a ten-dollar bill in it? Would that be cribbing?”

“No, sir,” the waiter smiled, “that would be dandy.”

Max got a ten-dollar bill from his pocket, folded it, and placed it in his hand. “Now, then, waiter…” He said, extending a hand.

The waiter took the hand, warmly, and he and Max shook hands. When Max withdrew his hand, the ten-dollar bill was gone.

“How are you feeling, waiter?” Max said. “A little woozy?”

“No, sir. Just fine. And much richer.”

“Max…” 99 said.

“Yes?”

99 whispered to him. “You shook hands with your right hand, Max.”

“Of course. I’m right-handed.”

“But the ring is on your left hand, Max.”

Max faced back to the waiter. “There’s been a slight miscalculation,” he said. “Let’s try that handshake again.”

The waiter shook his head. “I couldn’t, sir. I’m already in too deep. Psychologically, I’m already scarred for life-probably.”

“You won’t shake hands with me, is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right then, I won’t shake hands with you.”

“Fine, sir.”

“That’s an agreement-right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fine-let’s shake on it.”

“Yes, sir.”

They shook hands again. This time, Max used his left hand. And the instant their hands gripped, the waiter dropped like a stone.

“Ha! Dainty veins, eh!” Max sneered. “He had a vein big enough to drive a truck through.”

“We’d better hurry, Max,” 99 said. “He’ll only be out for a couple hours.”

“Just a minute, 99. We can’t go out on deck like this. That steward would spot us in a second. We’ll have to disguise ourselves.”

“How, Max?”

“Well, I’ll trade clothes with this waiter. And you… hmmm, that does present a problem.”

“Rorff!”

“The perfect solution!” Max exclaimed.

99 stared at Fang. “I didn’t know his sheepdog coat could be taken off,” she said.

“A little gimmick worked up by R and D,” Max said. “He’s fitted out with a zipper. Come here, boy.”

Fang trotted over to Max. Quickly, Max zipped him out of his sheepdog coat.

99 stared, stunned. “He looks like-”

“Right-like a Mexican Hairless,” Max said. “That is his disguise.”

“Rorff!”

“I know you’re chilly, Fang. But bare up. Remember, it’s for the good of mankind.”

“Rorff!”

“In this case,” Max said, “mankind includes dog-kind, too.”

“But, Max, that still leaves me-I’m not disguised,” 99 said.

“No sooner said than done.”

Max picked up Fang’s sheepdog coat and tossed it casually about 99’s shoulders. “There you are-you’re a wealthy eccentric.”

“Wealthy, Max?”

“You’re wearing a fur.”

“Eccentric, Max?”

“Have you ever seen a conformist with a sheepdog around his shoulders?”

99 nodded. “You’re right-as usual-Max.”

“Now then, if you two will step outside,” Max said. “I’ll change clothes with this waiter. And then we’ll be off.”

99 and Fang slipped out of the cell, and waited for Max in the corridor. A few minutes later, he appeared, looking exactly like a ship’s waiter.

“Rorff!”

“Take your own soup back to the kitchen,” Max snapped.

“Now, Max?” 99 said.

“Now,” Max said. He led the way along the corridor, then up the stairs to the deck. “Ah… fresh air,” he breathed as they emerged.