“Oh, all right.”
The engines were being revved up.
“We must be about ready for take-off,” Max said.
At that moment, sliding panels opened at the front of the cabin, exposing a movie screen.
“Scratch that take-off,” Max said. “Revving up the engines apparently means that the movie is about to start.”
The picture flashed on the screen.
“Drat!” Max said. “I’ve seen it. That’s what happens when you fly these cheap re-run airlines.”
“Max, will you do something about that picture,” Peaches said. “I can’t think with that going on.”
Max got up and went to the front of the cabin. In a service compartment he found a blanket, and he hung it over the screen, then returned to his seat. At that moment, the plane began to move.
“Finally-take-off,” Max said. “Now, let’s settle down to work.”
Peaches began muttering to herself, decoding by means of the Frankmacher method.
“Sad Al,” Max mused aloud. “That might refer to Al Capone. I imagine he was pretty unhappy when they plunked him in jail.”
“So far, I have ‘ALSAROAHHSA’,” Peaches said.
Max ignored her. “Astor. That’s a hotel. That gives me Al Capone in a hotel. Or, any gangster in a hotel. Mays. That definitely refers to baseball.”
“ ‘ALSAROAHHSA’ breaks down to ‘1-12-19-1-18-15-1-8-8-19-1’,” Peaches said.
“And Bronco Con can’t mean anything but Trojan horse. So, that gives me a gangster in a hotel room playing baseball with a Trojan horse. I think I’m getting close.” He frowned, cogitating, and, as he thought, he glanced out the window. Then suddenly he straightened in his seat. “That’s an airport down there,” he said.
“So?”
“It looks like the airport we just left.”
Peaches looked out the window. “It does, doesn’t it.”
“We seem to be flying in circles,” Max said.
“That is strange.”
“Oh well,” Max said, relaxing. “The pilot is probably just taking no chances. My guess is that he’s waiting for another New York-bound plane to take off so he can follow it. That’s the surest way. Especially if you have difficulty distinguishing between New York and Kansas City.”
“I think it’s strange,” Peaches said.
“Back to work,” Max said. “That’s the important thing.” He turned his attention back to the Plan. “Map Change. That might refer to the time when the days change-in other words, 12 midnight. Now, let’s see-Three Bs.”
“I have ‘OTNOEFOEENO,’” Peaches informed him.
Again, Max ignored her. “Three Bs. Bach, Beethoven and Brahms. Music. A tune. A certain tune. ‘Over the Waves.’ ”
“Over the Waves?” Peaches said puzzledly.
“I used to play ‘Over the Waves’ on my piccolo when I was a child.”
Peaches turned back to her deciphering.
“All right now, let’s see what I have,” Max said. “A gangster in the Astor hotel will play baseball with a Trojan horse at 12 midnight to the tune of ‘Over the Waves.’ ” He shook his head, “dose, but not yet it.”
“What about ‘Watch’?”
“That, apparently, is the key word,” Max replied. “But it’s a stumper.”
“Here’s what I have,” Peaches said. “I have ‘FFFFFF.’ Now, ‘F’ is the sixth letter of the alphabet. So, I have ‘666666’. And, following the Frankmacher method, I turn those 6s upside down, and I get ‘999999.’ in other words, I have a series of 9s. And 9 times 9 equals 81. That is two separate numbers, an 8 and a 1. Now, 8 is H-”
“How do you arrive at that?” Max asked.
“ ‘H’ is the eighth letter of the alphabet.”
“Oh, yes, I see.”
“So the 8 and the 1 stand for H and A.”
“HA!”
Peaches saddened. “I’m afraid so.”
From the cockpit they heard the sound of laughter again.
The pilot emerged. “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
“No, it’s ‘Ha! Ha! Ha!’ ” Max corrected.
“You’re right,” the pilot replied, grinning sinisterly. “The laugh is on you!”
Max stared, stunned. “Noman!”
“It ain’t Santy Claus,” Noman smirked.
“Now I know why we’re circling the airport,” Max said. “You never had any intention of flying us to New York.”
“This is as far as you go,” Noman said. “Hand over the Dooms Day Plan.”
“Not so fast, Noman. We are not alone,” Max said. He got to his feet and addressed the other passengers. “Fellow air travelers,” he said, “there comes a time in every secret agent’s life when he must go to the people for support. My time has come.”
“In spades,” Noman commented.
“The fight waged against the forces of evil by your secret agents is a lonely fight,” Max continued, still addressing the passengers. “Imagine yourself in a lonely hotel room, on a dark and stormy night, in a strange city, with the forces of evil knocking on your door. Sometimes a secret agent wants to cry out ‘Help! Help!’ But he knows that it is his duty to stand alone. However, this is not a hotel room, it is not a dark and stormy night, and we are not in a strange city-so, I think that, for this one time, we can forget about the rules. It would be permissible, I think, considering the circumstance, for me to yell ‘Help! Help!’ ”
“Yell already,” Noman shrugged. “Yell your head off.”
“With your permission, I will,” Max replied. He faced the passengers again. “Help! Help!”
The passengers slept on.
“They are tuckered out!” Max said, disappointed.
“They’re dummies,” Noman said.
Max looked at him disapprovingly. “You’re not going to have this airline very long, referring to your passengers in that way,” he said.
“When I say dummy, I mean dummy,” Noman replied. He picked up a passenger and tossed it to the floor. “See? Dummy. Filled with rags. It was a trick to lure you onto the plane. I knew you wouldn’t board the plane if it was empty.”
“As a matter of fact, I would,” Max said. “I like my privacy, too.”
“Enough of this babble,” Noman said. “Hand over the Dooms Day Plan!”
“Not quite yet,” Max said. “A Control secret agent is always prepared for emergencies like this.” He reached into a pocket and brought out a cigarette lighter. “I’ll burn the Plan before I’ll turn it over to you, Noman!”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Just watch me!”
Max flicked the lighter-and a fully inflated life raft popped out.
“Right emergency, wrong lighter,” he muttered. “Or, to put it another way-wrong emergency, right lighter.”
“It amounts to the same thing,” Noman said. “Hand over the Plan.”
Resigned, Max passed the Plan to Noman. “Little good it will do you,” he said. “When this plane lands it will be immediately surrounded by the National Guard, the city police, and a retired General of the Army, all armed to the teeth.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Noman said.
“Would you believe six members of the Seaford, Long Island, 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?”