William Johnston: Get Smart!

“Quick-look for a lavatory!” Max said.

“For heaven’s sake, why?”

“It sounds to me like Fred is brushing his teeth!”

“No, no, he sounds as if he’s strangling!”

Again, distantly, they heard, “Peep-a-dooooo…”

“Do something!” Blossom wailed. “Fang-find Fred!”

Fang put his nose to the ground.

“Your ears, you idiot!” Max snapped. “Peep-a-dotta is a sound, it isn’t a scent!”

So Fang put an ear to the ground.

“Peep-a-doooo…”

Fang went bounding down the corridor. Max and Blossom dashed after him. He pulled up, skidding, at a door marked FREDONIA.

“I told you!” Blossom said.

“Pure coincidence,” Max said peevishly. “The odds are a thousand-to-one against it. It wouldn’t happen again in a hundred years.”

“Well, do something!”

Max drew back and threw himself against the door. It splintered and fell in-and Max followed it, ending up flat on his face inside the office.

The office was vacant except for the receptionist at the desk. The girl looked remarkably like Noel, the girl guide who had escorted them to the door in the basement marked DANGER!

“Haven’t we met somewhere before?” Max said, peering up from his prone position on the floor.

“Perhaps Paree?” the girl smiled.

“Of course! The summer of ’61. Paree, Illinois. How could I ever forget?”

“Where is Fred!” Blossom demanded.

“Fred who?” Noel said innocently. “All who is here is the Ambassador from Fredonia.”

From behind the door marked Private came, “Peep-a…”

“He’s growing weaker,” Max said, jumping up. “No time to waste!”

He threw himself against the second door-and bounced off it, hitting the far wall. Then, coming back strong, he approached the door again, turned the knob, and flung the door open. Next, entering, he tripped on the sill and fell flat on his face.

Looking up, Max found himself at the feet of Fred, who looked more like the Tin Man than Rock Hudson. There was the pointed tin hat, tin torso, tin arms, tin legs, tin feet. And, as Blossom had said, a lever at his side.

Blossom came bursting in. “Fred!” She threw her arms around him. “Are you all right!”

“Peep-a…” He seemed to be strangling, as Blossom had feared.

Max leaped to his feet. “He’s been gagged,” he said.

“But I don’t see any-”

“Ah, here it is!” Max said. He removed a coin from Fred’s slot. “Somebody forced a slug into his mechanism,” Max explained.

Fred made a sound that could have passed for a sigh of relief. Then-clank, clank, clank-his arm raised. He dropped his nickel into the slot. Clink, clank, rattle, the nickel dropped back into his pocket-actually, a compartment in his hand. Next, he depressed his lever. “Peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!” His eyes rolled. Three lemons came up. Then he spoke-in a hollow, far-away voice.

“Thanks,” he said.

“That’s a heck of a lot of buildup for one word,” Max said.

“It isn’t what he says, it’s how he says it,” Blossom said. “There was a lot of feeling in it. He really appreciates your help.”

“Great-that makes my job all the easier,” Max said. Then, addressing Fred, he said, “Fella… if you don’t mind my calling you that… my mission is to bring you back. With, your brains, you’re invaluable to the nation that controls- Let me put it another way. It just so happens that-as matters stand-we are the Good Guys, and everybody else is the Bad Guys… or is that ‘are’ the Bad Guys? Anyway, we’re the Good Guys, and whether it’s ‘is’ or ‘are’ is their problem; let them worry about it. Or should that be ‘are’ their problem?”

“Rorff!”

Max sneered. “Anybody who spells the way you do is in no position to give advice on grammar. Stay out of this!” He turned back to Fred. “Fella… this is how it stands. Being the Good Guys, we’re willing to give you a choice. Self-determination it’s called. You can join up with us-that’s choice number one. Or we’ll take you apart, transistor by transistor, and ram you down your own slot. That’s choice number two.” He glanced at his watch. “You have three months to decide.”

“Three months?” Blossom said incredulously.

“Belay that!” Max said. “I meant three seconds. This is a calendar watch, and I always get the seconds and the months mixed up. Minutes, I confuse with weeks. I remember in the summer of ’61 I spent the whole month of May trying to boil a four-minute egg.” To Fred, he said, “I’m counting, fella…”

Fred’s arm ascended. The nickel clink-clanked through his anatomy. Down went the lever. His eyes revolved, accompanied by “peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!” Three lemons appeared. He spoke:

“Man who sits on firecracker should watch out behind!”

Max stared for a second, then turned in bafflement to Blossom. “Man who sits on firecracker should watch out behind?”

She giggled. “I guess he gets that from me. I watch a lot of old Charlie Chan movies on TV.”

“What does it mean?”

“I think it means there’s something going on behind us.”

As one, they turned.

And found themselves facing a large automatic pistol being held by Noel.

“Steeek ’em up!” Noel said.

Max slumped dejectedly. “I knew I’d met you somewhere before. It wasn’t Paree, Illinois, and it wasn’t the summer of ’61. It was just a few minutes ago in the basement. You know,” he said reprovingly, “you made a clumsy mistake down there. That door didn’t lead to a private office, it led to the East River. We could have been severely injured.” He pointed to the pistol. “And that goes for that gun you’re holding, too. Guns are not toys. They’re dangerous weapons. Especially in the hands of a female. Now, give me that-”

Noel fired. A little round hole with singed edges appeared in the sleeve of Max’s jacket.

“See what I mean!” he said disgustedly. “You could have killed me!”

“She’s a FLAG agent,” Blossom whispered.

“Nonsense. She’s just a nice girl from Paree, Illinois, who doesn’t know a thing about handling a dangerous weapon. Now, look-” he said to Noel.

“Silence!” Noel snapped. “I will speak with Fred.”

Max turned back to Fred. “Okay, you tell her what a dangerous weapon a gun is.”

“I will do the telling,” Noel said. Then, speaking to Fred, she said, “This fool is lying to you. It is really we who are the Good Guys. He is the Bad Guys.”

“I think that should be ‘are,’ ” Max said.

“Silence!”

“Okay, okay,” Max shrugged. “If you want to be one of those people who makes mistakes in grammar…”

“Come with me,” Noel said, addressing Fred again. “I will take you to the land of love, love, love. We will-”

“Could you be a little more specific about that?” Max broke in. “The land of love, love, love could be practically anywhere.”

“Let it suffice to say that the land I represent is the Good Guys,” Noel replied. “I would not work for anyone else. Surely, you believe that. Knowing me as you do, could you imagine me in league with the Bad Guys?”

“It would be difficult,” Max admitted.

“Well, it wouldn’t be difficult for me!” Blossom said. “I think she’s working for-”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Max said, stopping her. “No names, please. That’s the first rule of a secret agent-”

“Second rule,” Noel corrected.

“That’s right-I forgot the one about never leaving your secret code book on a lunch counter.” To Blossom, he said. “The second rule is: No names! If you go around mentioning names you’re liable to find out that you and your adversary are both working for the same client. It could get sticky.”