“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.
Max smiled. “Is it by any chance called, ‘Go along with the pretense until I get a chance to plant the you-know-what, and I’ll contact you at the first opportunity’?” he asked.
99 nodded that she had understood.
“No. That’s close,” Dr. Yeh! replied. “But it’s shorter.”
Max shrugged. “It was only a guess.”
The attendant and 99 departed. When they had gone, Dr. Yeh! said to Max, “Now, let’s get that advice bit over with. I want to see what’s in the bag.”
“Do you mind if we take a little stroll about the premises?” Max said. “I advise better when I’m walking.”
“Mmmmm, think on your feet, eh? All right.” Dr. Yeh! got up from the throne and, taking the lead, started the stroll. “You might want to suggest that we put up some factories,” he said. “That’s the first step toward modernization, isn’t it?”
“Excellent idea,” Max replied, following, carrying the black bag, and looking for a place to plant the explosive. “But there’s one hitch.” He stopped at a huge, waist-high, earthenware jug. “To manufacture, you need raw materials. Out here in the desert, there’s an acute shortage of almost everything.” He looked into the jug and saw that it was empty.
“I’ve thought of that,” Dr. Yeh! said, pausing. “My idea is to manufacture sand piles. We have the raw material right here at hand.”
“Sand piles?” Max reached into the satchel for a pellet. “Yes, I can see the possibilities. Although, frankly, lately the market has been a little slow for sand piles.” He dropped the pellet into the jug.
“Ah, yes, but today it’s the packaging that counts,” Dr. Yeh! replied. “What I have in mind is shipping the sand piles in jugs like this,” he said, putting a hand on the jug that Max had just dropped a pellet into. “People would buy the sand piles just to get the jugs. These jugs are-” He had glanced down while talking. “Somebody dropped a pea in my jug,” he said, surprised. He reached into the jug, picked out the pellet, and flicked it away. “The help you get today,” he said morosely. “Last week, I found dust on a camel. The servant problem is atrocious.”
Max ambled idly in the direction in which the pea had rolled. “I wonder if I could have that pea for a souvenir?” he said. “When I left, the Secretary asked me to bring something back. In fact, whenever I go to a foreign country, he asks me to bring something back. He usually wants a mutual defense treaty. But, in this case, I think he’ll settle for a pea.”
“Take it,” Dr. Yeh! said. “I got a pea patch full of ’em.”
Max found the pellet and retrieved it. “How would you like a little advice on weeding a pea patch?” he asked.
“Then can we open the bag?”
“Not that quickly,” Max replied, as the two continued the stroll. “You see, at the State Department our main job is to give advice. The money part of it is just incidental. If I traveled all this distance and did nothing but give you a wad of money, I’d feel I was doing a sloppy job. You wouldn’t want me to have that on my conscience, would you?”