“Oh, is that how it goes? I thought it was ‘I’ before ‘E’, except after ‘C’, and, on rare occasions, ‘W’ and ‘Y’ ”
“That’s something else, Max, I’m talking about the alphabet-the way it ends. It ends with X, Y, Z.”
Max shook his head. “Sorry, 99. Good try, but it just doesn’t have it. You see, in this case, we’re working from Z to A. Consequently, the alphabet ends not in X, Y, Z, but in C, B, A. Nevertheless, as I said, good try. Keep thinking.”
“Yes, Max.”
They moved on-then Max halted again. “This is it,” he said.
He looked up and down the corridor.
“All clear,” 99 whispered.
Max tried the door. “Locked,” he announced.
“That’s not surprising,” 99 said.
“No, and not unexpected, either,” Max replied. “Fortunately, I’m prepared. R and D sent along a gadget that-it claims-is guaranteed to unlock any locked door. This looks to me like an excellent opportunity to experience-test it.” He reached into a pocket and extracted a tiny, penny-sized gadget, then read from the tag that was attached to it. “ ‘Turn Indicator to ON, place in Keyhole, Then Run Like the Devil!’ ”
“It must be an explosive,” 99 said.
Max scowled. “I’m not sure I can get this tag in that keyhole,” he said.
“Max, I think it means to put the gadget in the keyhole-not the tag.”
“Oh… yes. I wish R and D would be more explicit about these things.” He tore the tag from the gadget, then set the indicator on ON, and pushed the gadget into the keyhole.
“Now, then, to see what develops,” he said.
“Max, aren’t we supposed to run like the Devil?”
“See what I mean? Why can’t R and D be more explicit? I, for one, haven’t the faintest idea how a Devil runs. Is a Devil a slow runner, or a fast-”
The question was suddenly cut short by a thunderous explosion. There was a flash of flame, then black, roiling smoke filled the corridor.
“Well, I guess that answers that,” Max said, choking.
They fanned the smoke away-and found the stateroom door at their feet. They also found themselves joined by a number of other passengers.
“Don’t panic,” Max said to them. “Nothing to get excited about. We’re the ship’s carpenters-doing a little repair work. This, uh, door was stuck.”
The other passengers seemed satisfied. They returned to their staterooms.
“That was close,” Max said.
“You handled it beautifully, Max,” 99 complimented him.
“Yes, I thought so. The secret is to keep your wits about you and present a logical, wholly believable explanation. It works every time.” He gestured toward the open doorway. “After you, 99… Fang.”
The two entered, then Max raised the door and leaned it in place in front of the opening.
“Now, then…” he said, pleased.
“Max…” 99 called from inside the stateroom, “… you closed yourself outside. You’re in the corridor.”
Max looked around. “I thought this was an odd shape for a stateroom-long and narrow,” he said. “And very poorly furnished, too.”
He lifted the door aside, entered the stateroom, then put the door back in place.
“Now, then…” he said again.
“Max, it’s dark in here.”
“Exactly why I brought along the ultra-violet flashlight, 99. Here it is. I’ll just turn on the beam, and…”
“Max, it’s still dark.”
“That’s because the ultra-violet beam cannot be seen by the naked eye, 99. And, you and I and Fang, being only human, are equipped with naked eyes.”
“But, Max, what good is it if we can’t see the beam? There isn’t any light.”
“Yes, I better make a note of that for R and D,” Max said. “99, will you flip on the light switch, please. I can’t write in the dark.”
“Yes, Max.”
Light flooded the room.
“That’s better,” Max said, making the note to pass on to R and D.
“Where shall we start searching, Max?” 99 asked.
“The suitcases,” Max replied. “That’s what we’re looking for, remember? A suitcase containing six invisible guinea pigs. Not three, not four, not five, but six invisible guinea pigs. However, if you do find a suitcase with five invisible guinea pigs in it, you better let me know. It’s just possible that one of the little beggars might have escaped.”
“It will be difficult to know,” 99 said. “Since it would be invisible.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Max said. “To make those difficult decisions for you. All right, 99, let’s start the search.”
99 opened the closet door and pulled out a suitcase.
Max kneeled and peered under the bunk.
“Rorff!” Fang barked.
“No, nothing but dust,” Max reported.
“Max! I’ve found them!” 99 cried.
Max leaped to his feet and rushed to her side. He peered into the suitcase that lay open on the floor.
“Empty as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard!” he said. “This just might be it, 99!”
“How can we be sure?”
“By feel. That’s the only way.”
Max reached a hand into the empty suitcase and squeezed.
But there was no response.
Max sighed. “No, 99, I’m afraid that’s not it. Until we find an empty suitcase that squeals, we’ll just have to keep looking.”
“Sorry, Max,” 99 said, closing the suitcase.
“It could happen to anybody.”
99 took another suitcase from the closet.
Max kneeled again and, this time, peered under the chest of drawers.
“Rorff!”
“Same old dust,” Max reported.
At that moment, another voice was heard-a challenging, gutteral, masculine voice.
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?”
99 turned. Max looked up. Fang ducked under the bed.
A large, dark man with a long dark beard was standing in the doorway. The door was nowhere to be seen.
“Hi, there,” Max said cheerily, getting to his feet. “Dr. Zee, I presume.”
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?” Dr. Zee repeated, a touch more belligerently.
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should have said, ‘Dr. X, I presume’,” he said. “That is your true identity, isn’t it, Doctor?”
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?” the man persisted.
“That’s right, play it cool,” Max snapped. “But it won’t wash, Doctor. It so happens that we’re on to you. So, just hand over that formula, and, I might add, those half-dozen invisible guinea pigs, and let’s get this over with.”
The man glared at him. “Vot you doink in mine staderoom?”
“Pret-ty clever,” Max said. “Won’t give us anything but your name, rank and serial number, eh? It just so happens, however, that this case is not covered by the Geneva Convention. There are no rules in the game of espionage, Doctor. It’s every man for himself.”
“Rorff!”
“Dogs, too,” Max added. “And come out from under that bunk!”
The man tried once more. “Vot you doink in mine staderoom?”
“So, that’s your story, and you’re going to stick to it, eh? Well, Dr. X, we have ways…”
The man backed out of the doorway and disappeared.
“Max, shouldn’t we stop him?” 99 cried.
“Why? He’ll have to come back here eventually,” Max said. “He didn’t even take his toothbrush with him.”
“What shall we do now, Max?”
“Keep searching. Those invisible guinea pigs are here somewhere.”
“Rorff!” Fang barked, crawling out from under the bunk.
“Dust yourself off,” Max commanded.
“Max…” 99 said.
He turned to her. “Yes? What now?”
She pointed toward the doorway.
Max looked-and saw Dr. Zee (or Dr. X) and a steward standing in the opening.
“A-ha, went to get your confederate, eh?” Max said. “Well, it won’t do you any good. You’re still outnumbered. Three of us to two of you.”
Fang ducked under the bunk again.
“All right, let’s just say that it’s even-Steven,” Max said. “But that still gives us the edge. Because we’re the Good Guys.”
“Excuse me, sir,” the steward said. “I’m not sure what this is all about, but Dr. Zee, here, wants to know-”
“Vot you doink in mine staderoom?” Dr. Zee said, breaking in.