Missed It By That Much!

“Right. You heard what Hassan said about the highway. This is the shortcut.”

“Oh.”

“Instead of wasting your time questioning Hassan’s truthfulness, think about that notation that was found in Dr. Livingstrom’s laboratory,” Max said. “If we can figure out that formula, we won’t need Dr. Livingstrom.”

“All right, Max. Let’s see,” she mused, “Brassica Oleracia-212°. What could that be?”

“Let’s try it syllable by syllable,” Max said. “Now, the first syllable is ‘brass’. Brass is a metal. Iron is also a metal. Maybe Dr. Livingstrom created the odor by leaving the iron on and scorching a shirt. That makes a terrible smell.”

“I don’t think that’s it, Max.”

“99, we have to try every possibility. Only by leaving no stone unturned-”

They had entered a small clearing. Hassan stopped, breathing heavily. “We will rest here,” he said.

“Good idea,” Max agreed. “Let me help you get that pack off your back.”

“You’re a nice secret agent,” Hassan smiled.

Max placed the pack on a large rock. “Now then,” he said. “Brassica Oleracia-212°. If we transpose the letters, substituting-”

He was interrupted by a ringing sound.

“There’s the doorbell again,” Hassan said.

“My telephone,” Max corrected, removing his shoe.

Max: Yes, Chief. What is it?

Voice: Yes, Chief, what? Is Hazel there?

Max: Is that you again? You’ve made the same mistake. You’ve dialed a wrong number.

Voice: Who is this? The dummy?

Max: No, the dummy telephone is back at Headquarters. At the moment, I’m talking on my shoe.

Voice: That’s what I thought-I got the dummy again. Look, dummy, when Hazel comes in, will you have her call Fred?

Max: You don’t-

(the line went dead)

Max put his shoe back on his foot. “The next time he calls,” he grumbled, “I’m not even going to answer.”

“Max!” 99 suddenly shrieked. “Our supplies! The pack! Look! It’s gone!”

Max stared at the rock. The pack, indeed, had disappeared.

“Whitestone!” he said.

“White?” Hassan said. “That rock isn’t white. It’s more like an off-gray.”

“Hassan, there’s something I’d better tell you,” Max said grimly. “We have an enemy-a secret agent who works for the Bad Guys. His name is Whitestone. And, apparently, he has followed us into the jungle. He has the ability to make things look like they’re really not. That rock, for instance, is obviously not a rock.”

Hassan bent forward, looking closely at the rock. Then he looked back at Max. “Sure,” he grinned. “I see it now. It’s not a rock, it’s a roast duck-right?”

“No, it isn’t a roast duck,” Max replied. “I know, it’s hard to believe that that rock is anything but a rock, but take my word for it-Whitestone is somewhere nearby, and, by magic, he’s making us think that whatever it is that’s sitting there is a rock. In fact, however- Look, I’ll prove it to you.” He took a capsule from his pocket. Reading the label on the capsule, he said, “We won’t need this. It’s a duplicate of the football stadium at the University of Oklahoma-in miniaturized form, of course.” He placed the capsule on the rock. Slowly, it disappeared. “There you are,” he said to Hassan. “Are you convinced?”

Hassan blinked, astounded. “Son of a gun!”

“Max, what is that rock, really?” 99 said.

“Elementary, my dear 99,” Max replied. “Actually, that rock is a patch of quicksand.”

“Amazing!” 99 said.

“More than that. Terrible,” Hassan said. “Our supplies are gone. We have no food. We have no water. We’re doomed.”

“Not quite,” Max smiled. “I imagine that R amp; D has anticipated an emergency such as this.” He got a handful of capsules from his pocket. “Let’s see what we have here.” He began reading the labels. “A fully-armed Coast Guard cutter. A squadron of World War I fighter planes-with pilots. A landing strip for a squadron of World War I fighter planes. Twenty-nine years’ back issues of the Sunday New York Times. A- Ah, here’s what we want. A complete field kitchen and a year’s supply of food and water. This ought to take care of our problem. I’ll just-”

He was interrupted by a ringing sound.

“Somebody get the doorbell,” Hassan said.

“Excuse me,” Max said, placing the capsules on the rock. “That was my phone.”

He took off his shoe and put it to his ear.

Max: Chief? Is that you?

Voice: Chief who? This is Hazel. Any messages for me?

Max: You’re to call Fred.

Voice: Got it.

Max hung up. “Now then, I’ll just-”

“Max, you put the capsules on the rock,” 99 said woefully. “They disappeared.”

“I don’t care for your tone, 99,” Max said woundedly. “It’s a mistake anybody could have made.”

“Sorry, Max.”

“We’re sunk!” Hassan groaned.

“Not at all,” Max said. “True, without food and water our mission is going to be more of a challenge, but we are definitely not sunk. Eventually, we’ll reach a native village. When we do, we can stock up on food and water again. Our duty now, as I see it, is to push on. Hassan-which way do we go from here?”

“That way looks like a good way,” Hassan replied, pointing. “But then, on the other hand, that other way looks like a good way, too. I guess it’s a toss-up.”

“Some guide,” 99 said. “You’re supposed to know the way.”

He shrugged. “That’s what you get when you get a cheap guide.”

“Never mind,” Max said. “I’ll just climb up here on this rock and see if I can spot a trail.”

“Max!” 99 screamed.

But the warning was too late. Max was sinking slowly beneath the surface.

“99!” he called. “Give me a hand!”

Frantically, 99 reached out and got hold of his hand.

“Pull, 99!”

She pulled. But Max remained stuck in the quicksand.

“Max, you’ll have to help!” 99 cried.

“All right-I’ll pull.”

He pulled. And 99 joined him in the quicksand.

“I don’t think that was a very good idea, 99,” Max said, as they both sank deeper and deeper into the mire.

“Max! Don’t criticize! Do something!”

“Hassan!” Max commanded. “Get a pole! Quick!”

“I know just the place,” Hassan said. “A little shop that specializes in poles. I know the owner. He’ll give me a good deal.”

“Hurry!” Max cried.