William Johnston - Get Smart!

Blossom put a hand to her forehead. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said.

“Buck up,” Max said. “This is no time to weaken. I think we’re going to crack this case. From here on out it looks like clear sailing.”

“I know I’m going to be sick!” Blossom groaned.

At Max’s urging, they hurried to where they had left the car, then drove to a department store. Reaching the store, they made their way to the Womens Wear department.

“I’d like some motherly-looking apparel,” Max said to the clerk, a small, bird-like, motherly-looking woman.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” the clerk said, appraising Blossom. “If you have anything at all, it’s a shame to hide it. Believe me, I know. It’s my motherly-looking clothes, for instance, that make me look the way I do. Would you believe that I’m only twenty-two?”

Max shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Would you believe thirty-four?” the clerk said.

“Try seventy-six,” Max suggested.

“Would you believe seventy-six?”

“I wouldn’t even believe eighty-seven,” Max said. “But that’s beside the point. I don’t want the clothes for her, I want them for me.”

“For a masquerade?” the clerk said. “Or shall I call the police?”

“I think it could be honestly said that it’s for a masquerade,” Max replied. “Now, hop to it, or I’ll forget that you’re a little old lady of twenty-two and complain to the management.”

Approximately a half-hour later, they left the store. Max was now outfitted in an ankle-length housedress of flowered print, flat-heeled slippers, and a straw hat that was decorated with multicolored artificial butterflies. He was carrying a straw purse, into which he had put his pistol.

“How do I look?” Max asked. “Like somebody’s mother?”

“Like your own mother, possibly,” Blossom said. “But nobody else’s.”

“You’re jealous. No one in the world would ever believe that I’m not a woman of-”

A man touched Max’s shoulder, stopping him. “Got a match, Jack?” he said.

Max opened his purse. “I may have. Let me…” He brought out the pistol, searching.

“Skip it,” the man said, moving on. “If you’re going to get nasty about it, keep your matches.”

“Wise guy,” Max muttered, putting the pistol back into the purse.

Max, Blossom and Fang got into the car, then drove to FLAG headquarters, which was in a gray-stone building in midtown Manhattan; a building not unlike that in which Control was located.

“You two wait in the car,” Max said. “I don’t think Noel’s mother will create any suspicion, but Noel’s mother with a dog and a gorgeous blonde might start somebody wondering.”

Blossom giggled. “I accept,” she said.

“Accept what?”

“Where I come from, calling somebody a gorgeous blonde is practically like a proposal of marriage.”

“Well, forget it,” Max said. “Where I come from, it’s merely idle conversation.” He got out of the car. “If I’m not back in an hour or so,” he said, “telephone an SOS to the Chief. I put my other shoes in the glove compartment-the telephone shoes, that is. And, for heaven’s sake, if you reach into the glove compartment and come out with a 20 mm. shell, don’t try to use it to call with. Reach back in and get the shoe. I tell you that because I don’t have a great deal of confidence in your ability to remain calm under stress. Okay? Any questions?”

“Oh, go play mother,” Blossom pouted.

Max turned away, took one step, tripped on the hem of the housedress, and fell flat on his face.

“Help!” he shrieked. “I’ve been shot!”

“Boy, that’s calm under stress,” Blossom said cattily. “Get up-you just tripped, that’s all!”

Max got to his feet. Indignantly, he strode toward the building.

Since it was a secret organization, FLAG hid its operations behind a front. To those who were not in the know, FLAG headquarters looked like a conventional tourist agency. There were huge banners pasted to the windows. JOIN UP! SEE THE WORLD! TRAVEL! HIGH RISK-LOW PAY! SPY NOW-PAY THE PRICE LATER! HELP A NEEDY COUNTRY! Max entered and approached the reception desk, behind which was a gorgeous redhead.

“Yes, sir,” she smiled. “May I help you?”

“You can stop calling me ‘sir,’ ” Max said. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to a mother.”

“I’m sorry, sir-I thought there for a second — ”

“Well, you were wrong,” Max said. “If anyone should know a mother when she sees one, it’s another mother. And I say I’m a mother.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s better. Now then, in answer to your question, yes, you can help me. I’m looking for my daughter, a gorgeous brunette who claims her name is Noel and that she hails from Paree, Illinois. And don’t tell me you don’t know her, because I happen to know that she’s a FLAG agent and that this is FLAG headquarters.”

“I wouldn’t think of telling you I didn’t know her,” the girl said, wounded. “What sort of people do you think we are here, anyway?”

“All right, now that we understand each other, where is she?”

“Who?”

“Noel.”

“Never heard of her,” the girl smiled.

“Maybe we better take it from the top again,” Max said. “Being Noel’s mother, I’m aware that, as a FLAG agent, she is required to report in occasionally. Now, all I want to know is, where was she the last time she reported in?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” the girl said.

“Try me.”

“Well, she said she’d just escaped from a closet, where she’d been locked in with some dopey agent from Control and his dog. Where she’d really been, I haven’t the foggiest.”

“Nice try,” Max said. “However, sticks and stones may break my bones, but allusions to dopey will never hurt me. And that goes for my dog, too.”

“Oh, you’re the one,” the girl said. “I can hardly believe it. Noel said you were kind of cute.”

“It’s these clothes,” Max said. “You should see me when I’m not pretending to be somebody’s mother.”

“I’ll bet. Look, I’m off duty in about a half-hour, and there’s a little tea shoppe around the corner. Now, if you’d like to-”

“Stow that,” Max said. “I’ve got trouble enough with that gorgeous blond out there in the car. All I want to know is: where is Noel?”

The girl sighed deeply. “Well, if you’re going to be persistent, I suppose I might as well tell you. She’s not with us any more.”

“I can hardly believe that!”

“Would you believe that she’s on vacation?”

“The only thing I’ll believe is your official check-off sheet,” Max said. “I happen to know that you keep a written record of where your agents are at every moment.”

The girl handed him a clip board from the desk. “See for yourself.”

Max ran his finger down the list of names until he came to Noel’s. “Resigned to accept better paying position with T. C. amp; S.” He looked up. “T. C. amp; S. Isn’t that the big computer manufacturing organization?” he said.

“Yeah, that’s right. Typewriters, Computers amp; Stuff. It’s up the street aways.”

“Thank you,” Max said. “I appreciate your cooperation.”

“Look,” the girl said, “just so it won’t be a total waste, that tea shoppe around the corner-”

“No thank you. I never sip tea while on duty.”

“Then maybe I could book you on a tour somewhere,” the girl said. “We have a bargain in African safaris this week.”

“Some other time,” Max said, backing away.

“Well, listen, so long as we can’t do business, there’s something I’d like you to know.”