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

it,” Max said. “I haven’t either.”
    “It’s your face,” Sadwell said, his eyes narrowing. “Somewhere, I’ve seen it before.”
    “It must have been right where it is now,” Max replied. “It doesn’t move around much.”
    “A picture. I think I’ve seen a picture of you.”
    “In my high school class year book, maybe?”
    “I don’t read year books,” Sadwell replied curtly. “My reading is limited to ‘Wanted’ posters. I try to keep up on the identities of all the Control agents. That’s how I got into this school. I got a scholarship for superior ‘Wanted’ poster knowledge.”
    “Well, you couldn’t have seen my picture on a ‘Wanted’ poster,” Max pointed out. “If I were a Control agent, what would I be doing at a KAOS school? Control has a training school of its own, you know. Simple loyalty to the organization would demand that I take my training there.”
    Sadwell thought about that for a moment, then, without commenting, he moved back to the head of the formation.
    “Max, I don’t think he was convinced,” 99 said.
    “Of course he was. Simple logic does it every time. His doubts have been completely laid to rest.”
    “If you say so, Max.”
    They marched into the auditorium, then, at Sadwell’s command they seated themselves.
    A moment later, a crotchety-looking old man hobbled out onto the stage. He peered over his spectacles at the freshmen. Then he spoke. “My name, as you probably know, is Professor,” he said. “My first name is The. But, you may call me The Professor. While you are here at the KAOS training school, I will be father, mother, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin and nephew to you. And if you step out of line, I will treat you just like a father, mother, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin or nephew would do. I will spank you soundly and send you to bed without dessert.”
    There were cheers—and a few tears—from the freshmen.
    “Are there any questions?” The Professor asked.
    A freshman rose. “What’s for dessert tonight?” he queried.
    “You’ll never know, young man,” The Professor replied. “For questioning me, you will be sent to bed without dessert. Now, are there any more questions?”
    There were no more questions.
    “You’re a bright group,” The Professor smiled. “A group that asks no questions is obviously a group that knows all the answers. Now,” he continued, “we will leave the auditorium and I will take you on a tour of the classrooms.”
    The Professor hobbled down off the stage, then hobbled toward the doorway.
    Frank Sadwell called the group to attention. Then he marched the freshmen off behind The Professor.
    “99, look for a place to plant the explosive,” Max whispered.
    “Max, there just isn’t any place out here on the grounds. We’ll have to wait until we get inside.”
    Max sighed. “That means we’ll have to listen to a stuffy lecture.”
    “Maybe we’ll be lucky, Max. Maybe we’ll find a place to plant the explosive before we get to the classroom.”
    With The Professor still hobbling along in front, the freshmen entered another building.
    “Max! Look!” 99 said. “Up ahead. There’s a table. And on the table is a bowl of flowers.”
    “Yes. Very nice,” Max replied. “Daisies, aren’t they?”
    “What I mean is, Max, you can drop the explosive into the vase.”
    “Good thinking, 99.”
    As the group approached the table, Max reached into the black satchel and got out a pellet.
    At that very moment, however, The Professor came abreast of the table. “Halt!” he croaked.
    The group stopped.
    “Goldenrod!” The Professor raged, indicating the flowers in the vase. “Goldenrod is terrible for my hay fever!”
    Frank Sadwell rushed up, lifted the vase from the table, then smashed it on the floor. “Frank Sadwell, senior freshman, at your service, sir!” he saluted.
    The Professor smiled toothily. “I like you, Sadwell,” he said. “You smash a nice vase.”
    Sadwell saluted