Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again! by William Johnston Page A

Lions Club, all carrying firecrackers?”
    “Hardly.”
    “Then would you believe—”
    “I wouldn’t even believe a toy fox terrier with a lit match in its teeth.”
    “Then there’s no point in my mentioning it,” Max said. “However, we are thousands of feet in the air, so I see no way for you to escape with the Plan.”
    “Look out the window,” Noman commanded.
    Max looked. “That airport is much nearer than it was the last time I looked,” he said.
    “Before I left the cockpit I put the plane in a crash dive and locked the controls,” Noman said. “Within minutes it will hit the ground and explode.”
    Max shook his head derisively. “That’s no way to run an airline,” he said.
    “You, Max Smart, and your lady cryptographer, will be destroyed.”
    “And you?”
    “You’ll notice that I’m wearing a parachute.”
    “Oh. Is that a parachute? I thought you were putting on a little weight in the rear.”
    “Now,” Noman said, “I’m going to the door and jump.” He headed down the aisle toward the rear of the plane.
    Max followed him. “I know you have your orders, Noman,” he said. “But, secret agent to secret agent, couldn’t we talk this over?”
    “I’d like to,” Noman said. “But there isn’t time. The plane is going to crash very soon.”
    “Oh . . . well, I understand, then.”
    Noman opened the door. “Happy landing!”
    “The same to you.”
    “Sorry about this,” Noman said.
    “You’d better go—time is running out.”
    “Yes . . . well . . .”
    Noman dived out the doorway. But, just as he did, Max reached out and snatched the Dooms Day Plan from his grasp.
    Noman’s cry of protest floated back. “That’s dirty pooooooo . . .”

5.
    P EACHES RUSHED to Max’s side. They stood together in the doorway of the plane, watching Noman float safely to earth.
    “History repeats itself,” Max said. “Once more, the bad guy bites the dust.”
    “But, Max—he’s safe, and we’re hurtling to our doom.”
    “True,” Max replied. “But you forget one little element —we have the Plan.”
    “Hooray for us,” Peaches said sourly.
    “You have to look at it in the broad perspective,” Max said. “It’s true, as you say, that you and I are doomed. But, on the other hand, the you-know-what of the you-know-what is you-know-whated. That’s worth something, you know.”
    “How much in actual cash?”
    Max thought for a second. “You have a point there. It might not be unpatriotic for us to try to get ourselves out of this scrape. Let’s trot up to the cockpit and see what we can do about changing the course of the plane.”
    Reaching the cockpit, they slipped into the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seats. Max grasped the wheel and pulled back on it.
    “Locked! Just as Noman said. Well, it’s comforting to know, anyway, that he’s no liar.”
    “Max! Do something!”
    “I’ll call the tower,” Max said. “They might have a suggestion. I suppose this is old hat to them.” He picked up the pilot’s microphone, punched the button, and spoke.

    Max: Crashing airplane calling tower. Crashing airplane calling tower. Come in, please. Over.
    Tower: Identify yourself, crashing airplane. Over.
    Max: Well, let’s see . . . what can I say? We’re the plane with the sun shining brightly on our fuselage. Our nose is down and our tail is up. And we’re about to make violent contact with the earth and explode in a shower of multicolored flames. Over.
    Tower: Yes, I see you now. What seems to be the trouble? Over.
    Max: Think back on that description I just gave you and I think you’ll be able to figure it out. Over.
    Tower: Oh, yes . . . Well, I wish there were something I could do to help. But I just don’t have time right now. I’m going off duty. Could you call back tomorrow? About eight hours earlier? Over.
    Max: May I make a countersuggestion? Over.
    Tower: It’s your nickel. Over.
    Max: Perhaps I could talk to your relief. He might have something to offer.