Get Smart 4 - Max Smart and the Perilous Pellets by William Johnston Page A

ordered them to halt.
    “Musket?” Max said.
    “The Professor keeps us armed with the latest weapons,” the guard explained, examining Max’s and 99’s identification papers. “Next week we’re getting Bowie knives.”
    “Are the papers all in order?” Max asked.
    “They look fine,” the guard replied. “Except on this Gimbel, the sex is marked as ‘male’. That couldn’t be right. Could it?” he said to 99.
    “Heavens, no,” 99 said.
    “I didn’t think so,” the guard said. “You better have that changed.”
    “It’s too late,” 99 replied. “I’ve been a female all my life.”
    “He means have the identification paper changed,” Max said.
    “No, that wasn’t what I meant,” the guard said. “But that’s probably a better idea than what I had in mind.” He handed the identification papers back to Max and 99. “Pass Macy and Gimbel,” he said.
    Max and 99 entered the school grounds. Instantly, they were set upon by a dozen or more young men who were wearing red and white striped jackets. In the lapels of the jackets were round metal buttons that identified the young men as “Senior” students.
    “You two are freshmen, aren’t you?” the leader of the seniors asked.
    “That’s right. This is our first day at the school,” Max replied.
    “Then you better start out right, obeying the rules,” the leader said. “The first rule is: Whenever you see a senior, snap to attention and turn your pockets inside-out.”
    “That’s an excellent rule,” Max said. “I’m sure it’s based on careful consideration and sound judgment—even if it does sound a little idiotic.”
    “Actually, it’s very sensible,” the leader said. “When you turn your pockets inside-out, all the money falls on the ground. We pick it up. That’s the way we support the Senior Fun.”
    “Senior Fund, you mean,” Max corrected. “Like the Community Fund . . . a charity.”
    “Not exactly,” the leader said. “The Senior Fun is used to finance the seniors when they go into town for a little fun.” He held out a hand. “Cough up.”
    Max reached into his pocket, got out a dollar, and dropped it into the hand.
    99 did the same.
    “Carry on!” the leader commanded.
    Max and 99 proceeded, heading toward what looked like the administration building.
    “Now then,” Max said, “all we have to do is find some place to plant the explosive, then we can turn around and march right back out the gate.”
    “There doesn’t seem to be any place handy, Max.”
    “Don’t worry. We’ll find—”
    A second group of young men came pouring out of the administration building. They were led by a young man with a crew-cut and an exceptionally serious-looking expression. Suddenly spotting Max and 99 he halted the group, then approached them.
    “I’m Frank Sadwell,” he said, glowering. “I’m the senior freshman. Aren’t you two freshmen, too?”
    Max introduced himself and 99 using their assumed names. “We were just on the way to the administration building to plant a . . . that is, to register,” Max said.
    “You can do that later,” Sadwell snapped. “Right now, all freshmen are due at the auditorium. We’re to hear The Professor’s welcoming address.”
    “Yes, that’s what I said, we were on our way to the auditorium to hear The Professor’s welcoming address,” Max said.
    “Fall in!” Frank Sadwell barked.
    Max and 99 joined the group, then Sadwell marched it off toward the auditorium.
    “We’ll probably find some place along the way to plant the explosive,” Max said to 99.
    “Careful, Max. That Frank Sadwell is watching you. I think he’s suspicious.”
    “Impossible,” Max said. “Our cover identities are perfect.”
    Sadwell dropped back to the rear of the formation, alongside Max and 99. “Have we met before?” he said suspiciously to Max. “You look familiar to me.”
    “Do you spend much time in Miami Beach?” Max asked.
    “Never been there.”
    “Then maybe that’s