Max: Chief, I can’t talk to you any more. There’s too much interference.
Chief: Just one thing, Max. Have you deciphered the code yet?
Max: No, Chief. But I expect to have the answer very soon. I’m going to begin using Peaches’ system of transposing the letters into numbers, and the numbers into letters, and the letters into- Well, you get the idea.
Chief: Good luck, Max.
Max: 9-12-12 14-5-5-4 9-20, Chief.
Chief: What does that mean, Max?
Max: It means, ‘I’ll need it,’ in code, Chief.
Max put his shoe back on his foot.
“I heard what you said, and I think it’s just wonderful!” Peaches gushed.
“I did transpose those letters into numbers pretty quickly,” Max replied. “But ‘wonderful’ is rather strong. Impressive, yes-but wonderful? I think that’s putting it on a bit thick.”
“No, no, no, no, no! I mean the news that we’re going on an excursion. That’s very romantic!”
“Yes, going by boat has its advantages,” Max admitted. “That way, getting there is half the fun.” He scowled. “Unfortunately, coming back is pure misery.”
9
When the freight train reached Washington, Max and Peaches hopped out of the box car and crossed the tracks to a nearby building. Entering, they found a middle-aged man seated at a desk.
“How-do-you-do,” Max said. “My name is Max, and this lady is Peaches. We just arrived on that freight.”
The man picked up a paper from his desk. “That’s odd,” he said. “I’m expecting a carload of peaches. But there’s nothing on here about a shipment of Maxes.” He looked up. “Sure you got the right freight yard?”
“It’s a mistake,” Max said.
“Oh. Well, in that case, the peaches can stay, but the Maxes will have to find their right freight yard.”
“Just answer a simple question,” Max said. “Where would we find a taxi?”
The man frowned. “That’s a tough one. But I’ll give it a go. Under a taxi driver?”
“Let me try it again,” Max said. “Is there a taxi around here anywhere?”
The man shook his head. “Not likely. You hardly ever see a taxi in a freight office. Try down at the corner at the taxi stand.”
“Thank you,” Max said.
“You’re welcome. Just pile them peaches in a corner of the office here. I’ll count ’em later.”
Max and Peaches left the freight office and walked to the corner. A taxi was standing at the taxi stand. Max and Peaches got in. Then Max addressed the driver, a plump man who looked like a typical taxi driver.
“Take us to the pier,” Max said.
The driver turned in the seat to face them. “Would you like to check your ballpoint pen first?” he said,
“Noman!” Peaches shrieked.
Max pulled his pistol and aimed it at the driver. “Don’t make a move!”
But the driver stuck a finger into the end of the barrel. “You’re disarmed, Smart!” he snarled viciously.
“Not quite!” Max replied, reaching for his ballpoint pen.
But, as Max reached, the driver jumped from the cab and raced off down the street.
“Get him, Max!” Peaches screeched.
Max aimed the pen. He pressed the button. A tiny motor made whirring sounds.
Peaches groaned.
“You’re right,” Max said. “I doubt that I could dry his hair at this distance.”
“He got away,” Peaches lamented. “What now?”
“He got away, yes. But his cab didn’t,” Max said. “We’ll simply commandeer this taxi and drive ourselves to the pier.”
“Do you know the way?”
“The cab probably knows the way,” Max said, getting in behind the wheel. “Cabs have a sixth sense about such things.”
Peaches got into the rear seat, and Max started the engine and drove off.
As the cab reached the corner and Max stopped for a traffic signal, they heard a voice.
“Now, hear this,” the voice said. “This is Noman speaking!”
Max looked around, perplexed. “Where are you?”
“You’re hearing me over a speaker in the cab,” the voice replied. “I’m in another car, talking to you from here. I am also operating your taxi by remote control.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Max said.
“Would you believe, then, that I’m operating your taxi by pull-string?”
“I don’t even believe that you’re in control of our taxi,” Max replied.
“The proof is in the pudding,” the voice said. “I’ll drive you right through that red light.”
“That, I’d like to see,” Max smirked.
The taxi lunged forward and crossed the intersection, ignoring the traffic light.
“Now, you’re in trouble!” Max said. “You just broke a traffic law!”
“Fiddle-dee-dee,” the voice said, “What’s important is, do you believe me now?”
Max nodded. “I believe you. You are operating this taxi by remote control. But, the question is, what will it get you?”
“The Dooms Day Plan,” the voice answered.
“I don’t think so,” Max replied. “Peaches and I would risk our lives to keep that Plan. If you’ll keep an eye on the taxi, in just a second you’ll see us throw ourselves out the doors.”
“That would be risky!” the voice said, dismayed. “Fortunately for you, you can’t do it. If you were at all observant, you would have noticed that you’re in the same taxi that I used to pick you up in that deserted section of town early this morning.”
“In other words, we’re sealed in?”
“Right. And this time you don’t have a parachute to use as a brake.”
“However, we do have an ejection seat,” Max replied. “I recall that you used it this morning.”
“But I had a parachute.”
“Do you think the lack of a parachute will stop us?” Max said.
“It’ll stop me!” Peaches said.
“It’ll stop her,” the voice said.
“Gossip!” Max snapped.
“Are you interested in the alternative?” the voice asked.
“Not particularly,” Max replied. “But I will listen. What is it?”
“You don’t have to listen.”
“Yes, I do. I’m a captive audience,” Max replied. “Now what’s the alternative?”
“How does this sound?” the voice said. “By remote control, I’ll drive the taxi toward the nearest overpass. Meanwhile, you place the Plan on the driver’s seat. As the taxi approaches the underpass, you will activate the ejection seat. That will fire the Plan into the air. I will be waiting on top of the overpass to catch it. And the taxi will proceed under the overpass. After that, I’ll disconnect my remote control, and you’ll be able to drive the taxi wherever you want to.”
“Let me get that straight,” Max said. “I’ll drive the taxi over the underpass, and you’ll-”
“No, no, under the overpass.”
“Yes, that’s right-you’ll be under the overpass, waiting for me to put the taxi in overdrive and fire the ejection seat over… no, make that under… under… no, scratch that… over the under… would you repeat that, please?”
“You’re stalling. You’re not that dumb, Smart.”
“Right-got it. I drive the taxi over the underdumb, and you’ll be waiting with an overdone ejection seat.”
“You have one second to make a choice, Smart!”
