“Yes?”
“I think you’re in for another surprise, Max.”
Max got to his feet. He looked in 99’s direction. She had opened the closet door. And standing inside the closet was the nosy steward.
“That’s exactly what I mean by ‘dirty pool,’ ” Max said to 99.
“I knew you’d come back here sooner or later,” the steward said, stepping from the closet. “A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.” He gestured toward the door. “The Captain is waiting.”
Discouraged, Max and 99 marched out.
“You, too, chicken,” the steward called.
Fang crawled out from under the bunk and fell into line.
The Captain sternly surveyed the culprits the steward had brought him. “Those two I believe,” he said. “They look like looters. But what’s that chicken doing with them?”
“One of the gang,” the steward replied.
The Captain leaned forward, addressing Fang. “How did a nice chicken like you get mixed up with this bunch?” he said.
Fang shook himself. Dust puffs flew. “Rorff!” he barked.
“Well, you could have fooled me,” the Captain muttered. He turned to Max. “You know what this means, of course. This is the third time you’ve been caught. Three strikes and you’re in.”
“Out,” Max corrected.
“In,” the Captain said. “In the brig. Take ’em away, steward.”
“Captain, you’re making a terrible mistake,” Max protested. “I know, the evidence is against us, it looks like we’re looters, all right. But that happens to be circumstantial evidence. Number one, if we’re looters, what did we steal? Is anything missing?”
The Captain spoke to the steward. “Is anything missing?”
“No, sir.”
“Another thing,” Max said. “What proof do you have that we were even in that stateroom? We claim that we were nowhere in the vicinity.”
“I was in my own stateroom,” 99 said.
“And I was in the dining room having lunch,” Max said.
“Rorff!”
“That, I won’t believe,” the Captain said. “Boston is thousands of miles from here.”
“Let me put it this way,” Max said. “Do you have a witness who can definitely place us in Dr. Zee’s stateroom at the time of the alleged crime?”
“I was there, sir,” the steward said. “I saw them.”
“Your testimony is inadmissible,” Max said.
“Why can’t I accept his testimony?” the Captain asked, puzzled.
“Because, Your Honor, this man is a bribe-taker. I, personally, can testify that he accepted a bribe from me.”
“Me, too,” the Captain said. “It cost me ten bucks to get him to forget that I don’t know port from starboard-or, vice versa, as the case may be.” He addressed the steward. “Your testimony is inadmissible,” he said.
“So, you see,” Max crowed, “you have no evidence.”
“I agree,” the Captain said. He turned to the steward again. “Take ’em to the brig,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” the steward beamed.
“But, Your Honor!” Max objected. “I just proved to you that you have no evidence.”
“Evidence-schmevidence,” the Captain said. “Looting is bad for business.” He waved a hand. “Lock ’em up!”
The steward turned the key in the lock, then hung the key on a hook-which was too far away from the cell to reach-then ambled off, whistling happily.
Max looked around at the cell. It was about the size of a closet. There was a cot-on which 99 and Fang were seated. He rattled the bars-and the bars rattled back.
“One thing about our predicament-it’s going to make solving the case more of a challenge,” Max said.
“Max, don’t you think we ought to tell the Captain who we really are?”
“And break our word, 99? We promised when we took our oath never to reveal our true identities to anyone.”
“Max, maybe, just this once, we could get permission from the Chief.”
Max considered this for a moment, then said, “Well, we can try it.”
He sat down on the cot next to 99 and Fang and removed his shoe.
Max: Chief? Agent 86 calling. Are you there?
Operator: I’m sorry, sir. The line is busy.
Max: That’s impossible, operator. This is a private line.
Operator: I don’t make the rules, sir, I just follow them. And the rule is, I can’t break in when the line is busy.
Max: Would it make any difference, operator, if I told you that the fate of the whole civilized world hangs in the balance?
Operator: There isn’t any rule for that, sir. I’m sorry.
Max: Then let me put it to you as one human being to another. Would you, one human being, put me, another human being, through to the Chief, if I told you that unless you do the whole of civilization, as we know it, will be torn asunder?
Operator: I couldn’t do that, sir.
Max: Operator, for the love of mankind, why not?
Operator: I’m not a human being, sir. I’m a recorded announcement.
Max: Oh… sorry about that.
Max slipped his shoe back onto his foot. “We’ll have to try something else,” he said. “The line is busy.”
“I wish we had that attache case with us,” 99 said. “Maybe R and D sent along something to cover this type of emergency.”
“99-that’s it!” Max cried.
99 looked him up and down. “You have the attache case? Where?”
“No, no, not the attache case. But I do have one of the gadgets.” He held out a hand. “See this ring?”
“Very attractive,” 99 said.
“That’s what I thought-and why I put it on my finger. Little did I know that it would also prove practical. 99, this ring contains a nerve serum.” He removed the ring and showed it to her. “See this little pin? When I shake hands with the bad guy, this pin will penetrate his flesh and inject the nerve serum into his blood stream-assuming, of course, that I’m lucky enough to hit a vein.”
“Wonderful, Max! What does the serum do?”
“It puts the bad guy in a state of paralysis for a period of two hours. In other words, it knocks him stiff.”
“How are you going to use it, Max?”
“I was afraid you’d ask that. Unfortunately, in order for this to work effectively, I have to have a bad guy to shake hands with. And, at the moment, there’s a shortage of bad guys. I have only you and Fang.”
“Maybe a bad guy will come along, Max.”
“No, the only human we’ll see while we’re in here is the waiter who will bring us our food. And it’s very unlikely that the waiter will be a bad guy. Unpleasant, perhaps. But not a genuine, bona fide bad guy.”
“Max… couldn’t we fudge a little?”
“You mean pretend that the waiter is a genuine bad guy?”
“Why not, Max? How do we know-maybe, deep down, he really will be a bad guy.”
“We’ll fudge,” Max agreed. “When our waiter arrives with our food, I’ll get him to shake hands with me and inject the serum into his blood stream-assuming, of course, that I’m lucky enough to hit a vein. Then, 99, you and I and Fang will sneak out and do a little investigating.” He brightened. “In fact, we can sneak out between all of our meals.”
