“What did he say?” Max asked, as the helicopter rose into the air.
“It’s just over that next hill,” Lance Chalfont replied.
“Dune,” Max said.
“I’m doin’ the best I can. Don’t rattle me with all that yammerin’. Know why I’m called a silent birdman? ’Cause when I’m zeroin’ in on my destination, I want a lot of silence from you birds!”
“Yes. Well, we’ll-”
“There she is!” Lance Chalfont pointed.
Max and 99 looked out the front window. They saw an enclave of cement buildings surrounded by a high cement wall.
“Land behind one of those dunes-uh, hills-and we’ll approach the installation on foot,” Max said. “A couple camel-herders flying around in an atom-powered helicopter might be just a wee bit much. Undoubtedly, it would cast some doubt on our story.”
“Max, you think of everything,” 99 smiled.
“It’s the little things that count,” Max said.
Lance Chalfont landed the helicopter behind a dune, and Max and 99 got out. “Wait here,” Max commanded.
“Better shake a leg,” Lance Chalfont said. “I’m gonna keep the meter runnin’.” He grinned. “That’s a silent birdman joke, boy.”
Max nodded. “Very funny.” Then he and 99 set out across the sand.
When they reached the top of the dune, they halted. “I wish we had a pair of binoculars,” Max said. “I’d like to get a look at that installation before we approach it.”
“Try the black bag, Max,” 99 suggested.
Max raised the black bag to his eyes. “Nope. Can’t see a thing.”
“I mean look inside the black bag. Maybe R amp; D sent some binoculars.”
“Oh… yes.” Max opened the satchel. “Ah, here we are-a pair of binoculars. Good old R amp; D!” He put the binoculars to his eyes. “That’s odd,” he said, “I can’t see a thing.” He lowered the binoculars.
“Max,” 99 said, “you have two black, sooty rings around your eyes.”
He dropped the binoculars back into the satchel. “R amp; D is having its little joke again,” he said disgustedly. “If there’s anything more useless than an R amp; D department with a sense of humor, I don’t know what it is!” He bent down to the satchel again. “Wait a minute-what’s this?” When he straightened, he was holding a foot-long aluminum rod. “Collapsible pole for vaulting over high walls,” he said, reading the label on the rod. “Good old R amp; D!”
“Then we won’t have to pose as camel-herders,” 99 said.
“Exactly. We’ll use this pole, vault over the wall, and land on the inside.”
Crouching low, Max and 99 approached the wall. When they got nearer they saw that the wall was patrolled by guards.
“This will call for perfect timing,” Max said. “If you’ll notice, 99, you’ll see that there is a period of about three seconds when all of the guards are out of sight. That’s KAOS’s one mistake. In that three seconds, we will gallop toward the wall, vault, and disappear inside.”
“I’m ready, Max.”
“This will be tricky,” Max said. “It will be a two-vaulter vault. In other words, we’ll both have to vault at the same time, using the one pole. And, in addition, one of us will have to carry the black satchel.”
“We can do it, Max,” 99 said stoutly.
“All right-ready? There go the guards. They’re out of sight! Let’s go, 99!”
Holding the pole between them, Max and 99 raced across the sand toward the wall. In addition, Max was carrying the black bag.
“Now!” Max cried.
They plunged the end of the pole into the sand and rose up, up, up, up-then, slowly, down, down, down.
“I think there’s been a slight miscalculation,” Max said.
“Yes,” 99 nodded. “The pole is sinking into the sand. And we’re still outside the wall.”
“Well, we’ll be inside very soon,” Max assured her. “Here come the guards.”
As the pole sank further and further into the sand, the guards gathered at the base, waiting for Max and 99 to reach the ground. They shouted, in a language that neither Max nor 99 could understand.
“That explains something that’s been puzzling me,” Max said. “I wondered why they were dressed like Arabs. Now I know.”
“They are Arabs, Max.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve decided, too.”
When Max and 99 had descended to within a few feet of the ground, the guards grabbed them and hustled them inside the wall. They were taken to a large building, then into a huge auditorium-size room. The room was richly decorated. A thick red carpet stretched from the entrance to the far side. It ended at a large, jewel-encrusted throne. And seated on the throne was a plump, apple-cheeked man who was dressed in a white burnoose. The guards prodded Max and 99 toward the throne.
“Ah! Here you are-at last!” the apple-cheeked man greeted them happily.
“Yes, well, we would have been here sooner, but we had a slow pole,” Max replied.
One of the guards spoke up, but the apple-cheeked man silenced him. “Don’t babble at me!” he scolded. “I don’t have to be told who these two are.” He smiled at Max. “You are my American Advisor, right? You have been sent to me by the U.S. State Department-is that not correct.”
Max nodded. “Yes, that is not correct. Let me intro-”
But the apple-cheeked man had turned his attention to 99. “And you,” he said, “you are my new dancer.”
“I am?” 99 smiled weakly.
“You have come just in time,” the apple-cheeked man said to her. “For weeks, my ballet company has not had a flung.”
“A flung?” Max asked puzzledly.
“Yes, a flung. You are familiar with ballet, aren’t you? Have you not seen the dancers when they lift one of their number from the stage and fling her high into the air? Well, those who do the flinging are the flingers. And the one who is flung is the-”
“Flung,” Max nodded.
“Correct. My troupe has been without a flung for weeks. They’ve tried to substitute a flinger as a flung. But when a bunch of flingers fling another flinger, it’s just not the same. No matter how hard they try to pretend, they know-a flinger is not a flung.” He smiled at 99. “That’s why I sent to Sears Roebuck for you,” he explained. “You look exactly like your picture in the catalog.”
Max eyed the apple-cheeked man narrowly. “Unless I miss my guess,” he said, “you must be the infamous Dr. Yeh!”
“Yeh! Yeh! And your name is…?”
“Around the State Department, I’m known as Maxwell Smart,” Max replied.
“Max-the State Department?” 99 said.
Max winked. “That’s right, ballet dancer, whatever your name is. I’ve been sent here by the State Department to plant a- That is, to assist Dr. Yeh! in his efforts to-” He faced back to Dr. Yeh! “-to what?” he asked.
“To develop my sheikdom,” Dr. Yeh! replied. “We’re behind the times. But, with your advice, and your money, we hope soon to become modern.” He leaned forward, smiling, and indicated the black satchel. “That’s the money, I assume.”
“Don’t you want a little advice first?” Max said, hedging.
“Oh, is that the way it’s done?” Dr. Yeh! shrugged. “All right, what harm can a little advice do?” He motioned to an attendant. “Take the ballet dancer to the ballet dancer place,” he ordered.
“Max!” 99 cried, alarmed.
Max appeared to ignore her. “The ballet dancer place?” he said to Dr. Yeh! “Doesn’t it have a name?”
“I can never think of it,” Dr. Yeh! sighed.
