Free Get Smart 1 - Get Smart! by William Johnston Page A

Facing them, playing them, were men and women of varying ages and shapes. They all had a dazed, distant look in their eyes. Here and there were persons whose eyes were revolving.
    Max stepped inside, past Noel. “I don’t see Fred.”
    “Not the people,” Noel said. “The machines. I’m certain that one of them is your cousin.”
    “Possible.” He signalled to Blossom and Fang. “Let’s check it out.”
    Blossom and Fang followed him into the room. The door closed. They waited as Max went from machine to machine, staring each one straight in the eye. After a few minutes, he returned.
    “No Fred,” he said. “These machines are all too short.”
    “I don’t know,” Blossom said. “That one over there . . . the one that no one’s playing. It looks a little familiar.”
    “Let’s give it a double-check,” Max said.
    They went to the machine.
    Max peered at it closely. “Fred?”
    No answer.
    “No, on second thought,” Blossom said, “that isn’t Fred. As you say, Fred is taller. He’s also thinner.”
    Max glanced around. “I wonder why no one’s playing this machine?”
    “I’m sure there’s a reason,” Blossom said.
    “It looks ripe for a jackpot to me,” Max said.
    “Max, you can’t win on those things.”
    “Normally, no,” Max said. “I happen to have a system, however.”
    “That’s silly. You’ll just lose your money.”
    “A foolproof system.”
    “Rorff!”
    “Stick to your liverwurst!” Max snapped.
    “Come on, let’s go,” Blossom urged.
    “I’ll just try one quarter,” Max said. “You see, my system is this: I figure that the people who play these machines, as a group, have the worst luck that it’s possible to have. So, naturally, they play the wrong machines. Consequently, the machine they’re not playing is the one that’s due to pay off.”
    “That’s silly. I’m sure there’s some other reason why this machine isn’t being played.”
    “All right . . . we’ll put it to the test,” Max said, taking a quarter from his pocket. He dropped the coin into the slot. “It’s my guess that somebody is going to be very surprised.” He pulled the lever.
    The floor gave way, and Max, Blossom and Fang went hurtling downward into space.
    “Surprised, aren’t you?” Max said smugly.
    “HELP!”
    “Well, now, at least, we know why that machine wasn’t being played,” Max said. “It was installed over a trap door.”
    They landed abruptly, becoming a spaghetti of arms and legs—more legs than arms, since Fang was with them. They found themselves in total darkness.
    “HELP!” Blossom screamed again.
    Above them, the trap door banged shut.
    “I don’t think they can hear you,” Max said.
    “HELP!”
    “Quiet!” Max snapped. “I’m looking for my fountain pen.”
    “If they can’t even hear me, what good will writing do?”
    “My fountain pen happens to be a flashlight at one end,” Max explained. “Ah . . . here it is. Now, I just press this . . . oops!”
    “What happened?” Blossom asked.
    “Wrong end. I just shot myself in the face with a squirt of ink!”
    “Turn it around, you fool!” said a voice.
    In the darkness, Max said, “Blossom? Was that you?”
    “Noooo,” she answered, her voice trembling.
    “Is me!” said the voice—male.
    A beam of light suddenly cut into the darkness. Illuminated in the beam was Boris!
    “Don’t tell me!” Max said. “Zinzinotti, Alleybama!”
    “So we meet again,” Boris smiled.
    “Boy, are we glad to see you,” Max said. “We were worried. We saw you sitting in that limousine that was shooting at us earlier, and we thought you were in danger. We tried to talk to you, but we missed you. Incidentally, how did you get into that limousine?”
    “Nyet!”
    “No what?”
    “Is not limousine,” Boris said. “Is sight-seeing bus. I was on sight-seeing tour, and I got separated from the group.”
    “I see,” Max said. “That explains why you’re down here in this hole.” He turned to