William Johnston: Get Smart!

Noel turned her pistol on Fred. “Follow me!” She backed toward the doorway.

“Goodbye, Fred,” Blossom sniffled.

“So long, friend,” Max said. “When you get to Panamania, give my regards to Brigitte Bardot. Ask her if she remembers the summer of ’61.”

“Hurry!” Noel commanded Fred.

Fred moved forward. As he did so, his arm raised, the nickel dropped into his slot. “Peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!” Lemons.

He spoke. “Ladies first.”

A blush crept into Noel’s cheeks. “How nice of you,” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “You are a gentleman.”

Noel stepped through the doorway first.

Fred’s arm came up again. He slammed the door and locked it, shutting Noel out. The key he dropped into his slot.

Noel pounded angrily on the other side of the door and shrieked. “You ugly computer! You are no gentleman!”

“Veeeery neat!” Max commended Fred. To Blossom, he said, “Do you see what he’s done? He’s locked her out!”

“Let me in!” Noel shrilled.

Max called back through the closed door. “We can’t. It’s locked! And we can’t shoot the lock off because we’re out of ammunition.” He winked at the tourist from Zinzinotti. “Right, Boris?”

“Da,” Boris grinned.

“Let me in!”

“Tell you what I’ll do,” Max called. “Slip your gun under the door, and I’ll shoot the lock off from in here.”

Silence.

Then, from outside, Noel’s voice again. “Scout’s honor?”

“Max Smart is a man of his word.”

The gun came sliding under the door.

Max picked it up. He spoke through the door again. “I said I’d shoot the lock off the door. But I didn’t say when I’d do it. Just be seated, please. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” He turned to Blossom. “Understand what I’m doing? I’ve got her trapped out there.”

“But we’re the ones who are inside,” Blossom said.

“Exactly. We’re inside, free to maneuver, and she’s outside, trapped. Think about it.” He faced toward Boris. “Boris, I appreciate everything you’ve done. None of it worked… but the thought was there, anyway.”

“Perhaps I could do one more little thing for you,” Boris smiled. “Hold the gun, for example?”

“Geeee… that’s nice of you. But I’m going to need it in a second to blast the lock off that door. There is one thing you can do for me, though. You can come along with me when I take that girl back to Control. I may need you to back up my story. Sometimes the Chief thinks I exaggerate. When I tell him this nice girl from Paree, Illinois, is actually a FLAG agent, he’s going to be a little… where are you going?”

Boris was backing toward the window. “Suddenly I need a little air,” Boris said. “I thought I’d step out for a moment.”

“Hey… watchit! We’re twenty stories up. If you step out that window, you’ll-”

Boris disappeared.

Max winced, closing his eyes tight.

There was a long, long silence… then an explosive splash. River water sprayed in through the open window.

Max sighed relievedly. “Lucky, lucky break,” he said. “Apparently the river is right below the window.”

Blossom went to the window and looked out. “He’s swimming,” she reported. “And there’s that submarine again.”

Max joined her at the window. “You’re certainly stubborn when you get an idea in your head,” he said. “That’s still not a submarine. It’s a periscope.”

“Well, what’s under it?”

“The bed of the river, of course. Any school child could answer that!” He went back to the door and spoke through it. “All right, out there! Just be patient. I’m going to blast this lock!”

There was no reply.

“I think she’s sulking,” Max said.

“I think she’s gone,” Blossom said.

“We’ll see about that!”

Max aimed the pistol at the lock and fired. There was a shattering of metal and wood. The door creaked open.

Max stepped out.

Noel was nowhere in sight.

“Fantastic!” Max said. “She eluded the trap! I would have bet my last Indian head penny that…” He shrugged resignedly. “Well, that just proves it. The best made plans of mice and men, eh?”

Blossom came out of the inner office. “At least, we saved Fred,” she said.

“Right! Mission accomplished. Now, it’s a simple matter of taking him to Control and turning him over to the authorities.” He beckoned to Fred. “Come along, fella. It’s clear sailing from here on out.”

Fred joined them, clanking. And they made their way from the office of Fredonia toward the elevators.

There were two men aboard the elevator when the door opened. They were in long coats and striped trousers, dignified-looking gentlemen.

Max stopped Blossom and Fang as they started to board the car. “Just a minute,” he said. “Let me interrogate these passengers first. I don’t intend to step into a nest of FLAG agents.” To the gray-haired, older of the two men, he said, “Name, rank and serial number, please. And I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Remember-it’s a sin to tell a lie!”

The older gentleman looked him up and down stonily. “I’m Lord Alcorn-if that’s your question, sir,” he said. “Now, will you please either step inside or get your foot out of the door?”

“Lord Alcorn, eh? Answer me this: Where were you at seven-thirty P.M. during the summer of ’61?”

“London-if you must know.”

“A-ha! And, in London, were you, by any chance, playing ping-pong?”

The older turned to the younger. “By George, I think I’ve got it!” he said. “We’re on Candid Camera!”

The younger nodded drearily. “I can’t think of any other possible explanation.”

Max smiled, pleased. “It’s all right,” he said to Blossom and Fred. “These two are Americans. Did you catch the reference to a well-known American television program? It’s those little slips-of-the-tongue that tip the scales.” He made a sweeping arm motion. “All aboard!”

When they were all inside the car, Max punched the main floor button. The door closed and the car began to descend.

Instantly, the two men whipped off their long coats, revealing that they were wearing black leather jackets underneath.

The older man spoke again-as he pulled a large pistol from his jacket and pointed it at Max. “Okay, Jack, grab fer da sky!” he snarled. “Dis is a heist!”

Fang sprang into action. He leaped into a corner and covered his head.

“Gentlemen,” Max said, “I like your act. But I’m afraid it’s a waste of time if you’re auditioning. This is not Candid Camera!”

“Stow da gab, Mac!” the younger man said. “We’re here to put da snatch on dis tin can ya got widja.”

“He means Fred!” Blossom gasped.

“Dat’s right!” said the older man. “We’re gettin’ paid a pretty penny fer puttin’ da pinch on dis prefab putt-putt.”

“Yes,” Max retorted challengingly, “and Peter Piper thought he could pick a peck of pickled peppers, too-but he didn’t get away with it!”

“Pooey!” said the younger man petulantly.

“No, not pooey-punch!” Max snapped back.

“Pardon?” said the older man, puzzledly.

“Punch!” Max repeated.

At that same moment, the elevator door slid open.

“All out-main floor!” Max called.

The two men stepped out. “Follow us,” said the elder.

But, instead, Max punched another button on the control panel. The door glided closed. And the car began to descend again.

“How did you do that?” Blossom asked.

“Simple,” Max smiled. “As I told that elderly gentleman, I punched. I punched the button for the fifth floor with my shoulder blade. As you can see, I’m backed up against the panel. And now,” he said, “we’re on our way to the main floor-all according to plan.”