Get Smart 6 - And Loving It! (5 page)

“What’s that?” Max asked.

“He hypnotizes the audience and turns everybody into slaves.” He glowed. “Is that a smash finish or is that a smash finish?”

“Well . . . it’s, uh . . . novel,” Max conceded. “But suppose he doesn’t get called back for an encore?”

“Then he goes out and turns them into slaves anyway,” Lucky Bucky replied. “He’s a trouper.”

“I see . . . the show must go on,” Max nodded. “I have one other question: What’s the point of turning everybody in the audience into slaves?”

“Well, I figure that with good weather and some luck with the train schedules we can play every theater in the world in about fifteen years. By then, we’ll be ready to retire. And what’ll we have to fall back on? We’ll have the whole world under our control.”

“Plus Social Security,” Max pointed out.

“Right. Nobody can’t say that Lucky Bucky Buckley don’t look out for his talent.” He turned to Guru Optimo again. “Right, Guru Baby?”

Guru Optimo beamed. “But, Mother, I don’t care if Thomas
is
a crazy inventor who plays around with little wires that light up, I love him,” he replied.

“Lucky Bucky Buckley, you’re mad!” 99 said fiercely.

“Why should I be mad?” he replied, surprised. “With a future like mine? I’m not mad at anybody. I’m not even mad at you. To prove it, I’ll have Guru Baby do his act for you.”

“No, thank you,” Max said. “I really don’t care much for tap dancing.”

“Then I’ll have him do his encore,” Lucky Bucky said. “It’s the best part, anyway. I’ll tell you the truth, the tap dancing is just to get the audience’s attention. To do his hypnotizing, he’s got to be looking you straight in the eye.”

“Frankly, I care less for being hypnotized than I do for tap dancing,” Max said.

“Not you—a guard.”

He faced Guru Optimo once more. “How about puttin’ a spell on one of the guards, Baby?” he said.

“Good dog, Rin Tin Tin,” Guru Optimo replied, grinning.

Lucky Bucky summoned one of the guards to the table. Then, addressing Max, he said, “What would you like him to be? Anything—you just name it.”

“A captain?”

“He don’t have the seniority. Anyway, that’s too easy.”

“A potato peeler?”

“Still too easy.”

“Then you decide,” Max said.

Lucky Bucky spoke to Guru Optimo. “Make him think he’s the 8:57 commuter train that runs between Milwaukee and Chicago,” he commanded.

Guru Optimo raised a hand. There was a sudden flash of light.

The guard raised his arms, then began skimming around the hall, roaring like a jet engine.

“That’s a commuter train?” Max said.

Lucky Bucky scowled. He called to the guard.

The guard settled in for a landing.

“What do you think you are?” Lucky Bucky said to him.

“Think?” the guard replied indignantly. “I
know
what I am. I’m the noon jet to London.”

Lucky Bucky sighed. “You goofed it again, kid,” he said to Guru Optimo. “Give it another try—okay?”

Once more, Guru Optimo raised his hand. Again there was a flash of light.

The guard raced to the doorway and looked out. Then he ran to a chair and peeked under it.

“Hooooldit!” Lucky Bucky bellowed. “Come back here!” he called to the guard.

The guard returned to the table.

“What are you this time?” Lucky Bucky asked.

“Not what—who,” the guard replied. “I’m Little Bo Peep.”

“I think he was looking for his sheep,” Max said.

Lucky Bucky spoke to Guru Optimo. “Make him a guard again,” he said. “I’ll tell you the truth, Guru Baby, you’re lousy on commuter trains.”

Guru’s hand went up. There was a flash of light, then the guard, a guard again, stepped back from the table.

“Now, I guess you know why I brung him to the castle,” Lucky Bucky said to Max and 99. “The act’s got a couple bugs in it.”

“Oh? I didn’t notice,” Max said. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“It don’t always work out the way it’s supposed to.”

“Well, I don’t see why that should bother you,” Max said. “As long as he can turn somebody into something else, what difference does it make what it is?”

“Yes, a jet is just as good as a commuter train,” 99 said.

“But suppose he tried to turn an audience into slaves and the people turned out to be revolutionists?” Lucky Bucky replied. “There I’d be, in control of the world, and a bunch of trouble-makin’ revolutionists tryin’ to get it away from me! Bother, bother, bother. I wouldn’t be able to sleep nights.”

“How do you plan to correct the little, uh, defect?” Max asked.

“Practice. He spends six hours a day turning people into other people—or things. We use the guards. They don’t mind. They’re actors.”

Max looked over at the guards. “Actors? They certainly act like guards.”

“They think they are,” Lucky Bucky replied. “They’re all hypnotized. I got them out here by putting an ad in the paper saying I had a job open for an actor to play the part of an actor playing the part of a guard. When they got here to apply for the job, I had Guru Baby zop ’em with his magic eye.”

“Are you sure they’re hypnotized?” 99 said. “Maybe they’re just acting.”

“No, they’re zopped, all right.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“If they were acting, they’d want their names up in lights out front.”

Max leaned back in his chair. “Well, that was a fine meal,” he said. “But—” He glanced at his watch. “—I think we better be going now. Our Chief is probably wondering where we are.”

“Max Baby,” Lucky Bucky protested. “It’s still early. You can’t go yet. I had some more entertainment planned.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“I figured I’d execute you and your friend here.”

Max’s eyes became slits. “You’re hinting again, aren’t you?”

“Then let me put it another way—a way you can understand. You’ve had your last meal, now you get your just desserts—death
à la mode.”

“But that’s murder!” 99 said. She turned to Guru Optimo. “Are you going to just sit there and let him do this!”

He grinned broadly. “Good dog, Black Beauty,” he replied.

“Ah . . . Black Beauty is a horse,” Max informed him.

Guru Optimo turned his smile on Max. “But, daughter, Thomas’s inventions are so impractical. Why would anybody even
want
a light bulb in an ice box?” he said.

“Somehow, I don’t think I’m getting through to him,” Max mused.

L
UCKY
B
UCKY
rose. “Everybody up,” he said. “Time for the guests to get it in the neck.”

But Max and 99 remained seated. “Just a minute,” Max said. “I have an alternate suggestion. Why go to all the bother of killing us? Why not have Guru Optimo make us think we’re something else? Frankly, I think I’d look much better as, say, the Lexington Avenue Subway, than I’d look as a corpse.”

“Me, too,” 99 said.

Max turned to her. “99, there can’t be two Lexington Avenue Subways. We’d bump. Why don’t you become the Canarsie Line? They cross near Union Square, and that way we’d still get to see each other occasionally.”

“All right, Max.”

“All wrong, Max Baby,” Lucky Bucky said. “I can’t take a chance on hypnotizing you. You’re too dangerous. I’ll tell you the truth, once, one of Guru Baby’s zop victims recovered from the zop. Suppose that happened in your case? You’d tell the whole world how I plan to turn everybody into a slave. The minute I spotted you, Max Baby, I said to myself, ‘Lucky Bucky Baby, there’s a blabbermouth!’ ”

“Then you leave us no choice,” Max said. “Duty commands us to attempt to escape.” Again, he turned to 99. “Are you ready, 99?”

“Of course, Max. What did you have in mind?”

“This!”

Max jumped up, turning the table over. “Run, 99! The door!”

They ran toward the exit.

“Zop’em!” Lucky Bucky cried.

A flash of light exploded in front of Max and 99.

They dived behind a sofa.

“Trapped!” Lucky Bucky shouted exultantly.

“Not quite yet!” Max called. “He can’t zop us unless he looks us straight in the eye.”

“Guards!” Lucky Bucky bellowed. “Shoo’em out from behind that sofa!”

The guards began closing in on Max and 99.

“Max! What can we do?” 99 said fearfully.

“Keep moving, 99. And, whatever you do, don’t look him in the eye!”

As the guards reached the sofa, Max and 99 dashed from behind it.

Three flashes of light—Zop, Zop, Zop—brightened the room.

Max and 99 ducked behind a chair. They peeked out.

One of the guards had rolled up in a ball on the floor.

“Watch out for my seeds!” the guard warned.

“What happened?” 99 said, perplexed.

“Apparently that guard got in the way of a zop,” Max replied.

“What does he think he is?”

“A watermelon, evidently.”

Another guard began racing around the room, his motor roaring, knocking over furniture.

“Max . . . is he a—”

“Yes, I’m afraid so, 99—a hit-and-run driver. Watch out for him!”

The hit-and-run driver zoomed by Lucky Bucky, narrowly missing him.

“Come out of there and let me kill you!” Lucky Bucky called to Max and 99.

“With that crazy driver in the room?” Max answered. “We could get killed!”

The other guards were now closing in on the chair.

“Let’s go, 99!”

They dashed out into the open, headed for the overturned table.

There were three more flashes of light—Zop, Zop, Zop!

But Max and 99 reached the table safely.

They peeked out.

One of the guards dived into the fireplace, then rose up the chimney.

“What, Max?” 99 asked.

“A balloon would be my guess.”

“What about that guard over there? The one who’s standing at attention and blinking his eyes.”

“Well, let’s see . . . The right eye seems to be blinking red and the left eye seems to be blinking green, so I’d guess that he thinks he’s a traffic signal.”

At that moment, the hit-and-run driver raced through a red light, then crashed through a wall and roared off down a corridor.

“Now’s our chance, 99!” Max said. “Through that hole in the wall!”

They jumped up and ran.

Flashes of light began exploding in the vicinity of the hole.

Max halted, stopping 99.

“He’s got us, 99,” he said. “We’re out in the open. Get behind me—I’ll shield you from the zops.”

“But, Max—”

“Get behind me, 99!” Max commanded. “It’s the only safe place in the room!”

“All right, Max. But—”

At that instant, Guru Optimo fired.

Max ducked.

And 99 got the zop square between the eyes.

“Hold your zops!” Lucky Bucky said to Guru Optimo.

The remaining guards seized Max and 99 and held them tight.

“Hands off!” 99 cried, trying to break loose. “I have a schedule to keep!”

“99?” Max said, staring at her. “A schedule? What are you talking about?”

“Are you speaking to me, sir?” she replied vacantly. “If you are, please address me by my rightful name. I’m the Staten Island Ferry.”

Max sighed sadly. “Zopped.”

“Take them to the dungeon,” Lucky Bucky said to the guards. “Let’s proceed with the execution.”

The guards hustled Max and 99 from the room and along a corridor. Lucky Bucky Buckley and Guru Optimo followed close behind.

99 shivered.

“What’s the matter?” Max asked.

“The water is cold today,” she replied.

“99, you’re not the Staten Island Ferry. You only
think
you’re the Staten Island Ferry.”

“Then why are all those passengers standing at my rail?”

“99, you only think—”

“Excuse me,” 99 broke in. “The Queen Elizabeth is passing. I have to blow my whistle in salute.”

“Too bad she has to die,” Lucky Bucky said. “I could book an act like that. Ed Sullivan would be crazy to introduce the Staten Island Ferry from the audience.”

“If you’re going to kill us, why are you taking us to the dungeon?” Max asked.

“That’s where all the killing stuff is,” Lucky Bucky explained. “Don Juan O’Houlihan, the Spanish gentleman who built this castle a long time ago did a lot of killing. It was kind of a hobby with him. He had a very nice little killing set-up in the dungeon. In them days, I guess, you had to think up your own time-passers. There wasn’t no television.”

They descended a dimly-lighted stone stairway, then entered a narrow corridor.

99 began humming.

“99, what are you doing?”

“I’m humming along.”

“Along? Along with what?”

“I’m carrying a rock ’n’ roll group to Staten Island to play at a mugging and they’re on my top deck, practicing,” she replied.

They entered a large chamber that was furnished with various implements of torture, a rack and a screw and a tape machine that played back old political speeches. The guards took Max and 99 to a device that looked like a wishing well.

“Well?” Max said.

“That’s what it is, all right,” Lucky Bucky replied.

“What I meant was, well, what happens now?”

“Look into the well,” Lucky Bucky said.

“Oh, no you don’t. I’ve been around a bit too long to fall for the old when-he-looks-into-the-well-somebody-will-give-him-a-shove-from-behind trick.”

“Nobody will push,” Lucky Bucky replied. “Honest—on my word as an agent.”

“Ah . . . could you do a little better than that?”

“All right, on my word as the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.”

“That’s better.”

Max peered down into the well. “Ummmm . . . boiling oil,” he said. “And what are those lumps in it?”

“Crocodiles.”

“Boiling oil swimming with crocodiles. Isn’t that sort of gilding the lily? Wouldn’t one or the other, boiling oil
or
crocodiles, be enough?”

“With me, it’s playing it safe,” Lucky Bucky replied. “If the oil don’t get the victim, the crocodiles will. And what difference does it make to the victim? A guy that’s drowning in boiling oil don’t mind a little thing like a nibble from a crocodile.”

“Ughhhhh!” 99 shuddered.

“You’re frightening the Staten Island Ferry,” Max said to Lucky Bucky.