Maxwell Smart, agent #86 of CONTROL, paced briskly down the corridor towards another day of saving the world. His shoes were polished, his tie was on straight and he bore a piping hot cup of coffee. In short, he was ready for anything.

"Hey Max, wait!" A familiar clanking sound heralded the arrival of his best friend - at least his best all-metal, programmable, literal-minded friend: Hymie. The robot engaged top gear and whizzed to Max's side without spilling so much as a drop of the piping hot cup of machine oil he carried.

"Oh, hi Hymie. What's up? You want me to explain sarcasm to you again? It's quite simple. When someone says, for example, 'It's OK, I had a wonderful time waiting an hour in the pouring rain for you', then you should -"

"No, Max. You asked me to remind me that it's your anniversary today."

"I know it's my anniversary today, Hymie! I happen to have an infallible memory. Every important date is right at my fingertips. Of course it's my anniversary today!" Max paused, thoughtfully. "Er...anniversary of what?"

"Of your and Agent 99's wedding, a year ago today. As I believe is customary, I shall now give you a card." He flipped open his chest panel, fumbled around inside and handed Max a punchcard. Max held it first one way up, then the other, then turned it over several times.
"Thank you, Hymie. It's really...really...nice."
The robot's eyes flashed on and off with pleasure, and the two got into the phone booth lift. They touched down at the Chief's office in a matter of seconds, followed closely by a light shower of coffee and oil.

All through the morning's briefing, Max's mind was revolving round the anniversary question. For the past month he had been trying to decide on a suitable gift, but what with one thing and another he hadn't been able to make a choice. And now the day itself was upon him. Where had the time gone? Eaten up by a succession of tough cases and many hours of overtime. Worse, this week he had had to renew his life insurance and have his car put back together after a stray bullet hit the fuel tank. He was flat broke.

"Max? Are you listening to me?"
"Of course I'm listening to you, Chief! I happen to have an infallible memory. Everything you say is right at my..."
He wilted before the level grey-eyed gaze.
"No, Chief. Sorry, Chief."

"Please try to pay attention. This is a very important mission, and every detail has to be exactly right. Now, we know KAOS has a front somewhere on West and Fourth. The CONTROL office on Third and Tenth picked up a radio broadcast on one oh four on the eighth, sixteenth and twenty-fourth. The triangulation point South East Three has narrowed the source down to five blocks north of the East River. According to our calculations there will be an important broadcast at seventeen-fifty hours today giving instructions to KAOS Midwest, and you have to stop it going out. Did you get all that, Max?"
He thought he already knew the answer.
"Not...quite, Chief."
"What part didn't you get?"

It was going to be a long morning.

* * * * *

Max's head was buzzing with times, places and FM frequencies, but the burning issue of the day remained at the fore. He smiled ingratiatingly at the Chief.
"Can I ask you something?"
"As long as it's not about the mission. I feel as if I barely know the details myself, now."
"Oh, that's simple, Chief. I have it all right here." Max tapped his forehead. "There's a KAOS radio station somewhere on Ninth and..."
"MAX! What did you want to ask me? And make it quick." A vein in the Chief's temple began to throb.
"Can I have an advance on next month's pay?"
"No, Max."
"How about a loan? As one spy to another?"
"No, Max."
"Can I cash some of my CONTROL shares?" It hurt him to say it, but this was an emergency.
"Sorry Max, they're so low at the moment you'd have to pay me to take them."
"Chief, please give me a break. It's our wedding anniversary and I really wanted to get 99 something special, and..."
"Of course! Wait a second - I have something for you." Max watched, his expression hopeful as a puppy's, as the Chief reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a box of chocolates tied with red ribbon.
"Congratulations to you and 99. You make a wonderful couple."
The Chief smiled, but the deflated Max could only manage a feeble smirk in reply. That was that. No money, no present, no hope. Doomed. So he did what any sensible agent would have done in the circumstances: headed to the break room for coffee.

"86?" It was Forsyth, whom Max had often suspected of having intentions towards 99 in their pre-relationship days. Max glared.
"Hymie mentioned it was your wedding anniversary today, and the boys in the Decoding Room clubbed together to get you these." He produced a large bouquet of pink and yellow roses, beaming. "You're one lucky agent, 86!"

Max snatched the flowers, scowling a curt "Thanks." How come everyone had been prepared for his anniversary except him? What should he buy his wife, and what could he buy her when it was the end of the month and his funds were low? He glanced round the spartan walls of the break room for inspiration.

The staff announcement board. 'REWARD!' proclaimed a notice in large red letters, just below the details of the next CONTROL Bowling League fixture and above a hand-written note offering kittens free to good homes. An idea struck Max.

"Ooh...kittens! 99 would love a cute, furry little...no, wait - we're not allowed pets in the apartment." With a sigh, he turned his attention to the REWARD memo.

'Due to the toll he has taken on government agents, his ruthless nature and the danger inherent in approaching him, the President of the United States has sanctioned a reward of TWO HUNDRED US DOLLARS for the capture of the KAOS agent known as The Knife.'

"That's it!" Max leaped up, giving himself his second coffee bath of the morning. The Knife - the notorious KAOS hitman who killed for pleasure, carving intricate designs into his victims' flesh with a stiletto. Two of Max's close colleagues had fallen prey to his skills, and Max couldn't think why he hadn't gone after the killer before.

Then he remembered. 99 had made him swear that he would have nothing to do with the case. "We both know our job is dangerous, Max," she had said. "But there's no point going out looking for trouble. I'm as upset about 49 and 82 as you are, but you won't help them if you get killed too. Promise me, Max. I won't have a moment's peace if I think you're even considering going near The Knife."

He had been about to give a carefully-rehearsed speech about how his duty lay with his country, and as CONTROL's top agent he might well be required to hunt down the killer. He was even going to say that he himself would not have a moment's peace until The Knife was behind bars. But then 99's slender arms had wound around his neck, her large brown eyes had looked down into his, and he had been putty in her fingers. In the end they had agreed that if Max happened to walk into The Knife he could go for him, but he was under no circumstances to seek him out.

Should he go back on his word? It wouldn't be the first time he had lied for his wife's sake - just a few days ago he had promised that the loud crash she'd heard had absolutely not been her favourite vase, and he had replaced it the next day undetected. It was the same with this situation, he told himself; what 99 didn't know wouldn't hurt her. He would capture The Knife - probably by lunchtime - claim the reward and buy the best anniversary present ever. There were no possible obstacles.

99 bounced into the break room. "Max! I heard you were free till this afternoon. So am I! Let's go shopping!"

"Would you believe one obstacle?"
"Sorry, Max?"
"Listen, 99 - I'm a bit tied up right now. Can we go tomorrow?"
"But Max, I want to go today! Pleeease, Maaaax..." He could feel himself melting.
"I want to buy you something for our anniversary. We can pick out a watch - you need a new one."
A weight lifted from Max's shoulders; here was half his problem solved, at least.
"Sure, 99. By the way, what would you like as an anniversary gift?"
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
"A surprise!"
Oh well. Back to square one.

99 held his arm all across town, and together they went into a jewellery store and chose a titanium-cased, shockproof, heat- and water-resistant watch with a luminous dial and Mickey Mouse hands.

"It's just what I've always wanted, 99." Max told her. As she paid, he snuck a covert look around the shop at the glittering goods on display. Necklaces, brooches, lockets - what would 99 like? Despite the bewildering array, nothing leaped out at him. Nothing seemed special enough for his 99. She deserved something...unique.

"Max." 99 nudged him. He jumped back and his hand went instinctively to his holster. 99 gave a minute shake of her head and gestured at the shop assistant.
"Sir? Should I wrap it or will you wear it now?"
"Wrap it," Max said. "Let's exchange gifts properly - tonight." He and 99 looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, smiling fondly. The salesman rolled his eyes.
"Anniversary," he muttered to himself.

They left the shop, 99 nursing the precious package.
"I can't wait to wear it, 99. I'll think of you every time I check the time," said Max. His lips moved as he mentally ran the sentence through again to see if it sounded funny.
"Just don't mistake the ticking for a bomb while you're half-asleep and throw it out the window," 99 warned. As Max began an indignant denial, she added "Like last time. Would you like to take me for lunch?"
"No!" Max said hastily.
"Max!"
"I mean - I'm going to take you out to dinner, tonight. It'll be more special this way, trust me." He didn't mention that with his current funds, he could barely have bought his wife a hot dog from a street vendor.

"All right, Max. In that case, I'd better be getting back to the office." 99 gave Max a quick hug and kiss. "Take care of yourself. I'll see you tonight!"

For perhaps the first time ever, Max heaved a sigh of relief as his wife walked away. It was past noon - way too late to go looking for The Knife. He decided to cut his losses, try to scrape together enough change for a sandwich and start looking for the KAOS radio station.

* * * * *

Mort's Bagels looked a shabby, down-at-heel little place. Hopefully its prices would match its appearance. Max leaned against the counter, frowning as he studied the menu.

"I'll have a pastrami bagel, please. Hold the ketchup; heavy on the mustard,"
"Sure bud. You want salad on that?" asked the chef. Max's mouth framed the word 'no', then he remembered 99's recent crusade to get him to eat more vegetables.
"They're full of vitamins and minerals, Max. Please - one spoonful? For me?" she would coax.
"Yes, I most certainly do want salad. Do you know how many vitamins and minerals there are in just one lettuce leaf?"
"Can't say I do, mac. Mitch - salad!" He turned his back.
"Well, you'd be surprised, that's all," Max muttered.

As he waited, he idly watched the chef's assistant prepare the salad. A tomato was cut swiftly into delicate star-shapes, cucumber slices acquired gracefully scalloped edges and the lettuce was shredded into minute, identical strips by the sharp blade. Max blinked.

"The Knife!"
"It's perfectly clean!" the chef said, hastily wiping the breadknife on his stained apron.
"No - he's The Knife! He's KAOS!"

At Max's words the assistant looked up, and in a single movement spun his knife through the air towards the CONTROL agent. Max grabbed the breadboard, sending his half-completed sandwich to the floor, and held it across his chest like a shield. The weapon thudded into it and The Knife cast around for more ammunition. Reaching for the cutlery rack on the wall, he grasped a long carving knife in each hand. Max threw down the breadboard and vaulted the counter.

They faced off: Max with his hands up in the guard position, The Knife twirling a blade in each hand, his face stretched by a manic grin.
"Agent 86? Perfect! I have long looked forward to practising my art on you. What design should I cut into your still-living flesh? A star? A yin-yang? A short poem perhaps?" The whirling knives flashed light into Max's eyes, making him squint.

"On the contrary, you will soon be wearing an all-over motif of little arrows!" Max went for his gun. In that instant one of the carving knives chopped down, splitting his leather holster as if it had been wet cardboard. The gun fell, discharging a bullet into the ceiling as it hit, and skittered away out of reach.

Left-handed the hitman slashed through Max's shirt, exposing his chest.
"Ah - the pleasure of a blank canvas! Maybe I should write 'Calais' across your heart, like Mary, Queen of Scots." A second slash took the sleeve off Max's jacket. Aware that the killer was merely toying with him, Max ducked away from each blow as best he could. The Knife was so wrapped up in his game that he didn't notice every duck was taking Max nearer to the cutlery rack...

"Do hold still, Agent 86. I would so hate to smudge my drawing. After all, one only has one chance to get it right." A nick appeared on Max's ribs, oozing blood. He winced, but the arsenal was within his grasp. A quick snatch and the long carving fork was in his hand.

"Ha!" Moving like a fencer, he made two swift thrusts left and right. First one knife then the other twisted out of the KAOS man's hands with a flick of Max's wrist. The Knife was not weaponless for long, however. Reaching down to his shoe, he pulled out his trademark tool: the thin, bright stiletto.

He held it aloft, turning it in his fingers so the blade caught the light. "Ah, my beauty. We've been through a lot together, haven't we? Together we have made our mark in so many different places and ways. And now I have a special treat for you - the flesh of CONTROL's top agent!"

Then Max plunged the fork into his breast.

The KAOS man looked down slowly, with an expression of mild surprise. As the light faded from his eyes and he sank to the floor, it was clear from his face that he appreciated the irony: The Knife had been killed by a fork.

Max withdrew his weapon.
"The only thing you'll find written across my heart," he announced to the room, "is 'Agent 99'!"

Dialling the Chief's number on his shoephone, he gave a sigh of regret.
"If only he had used his knife for niceness instead of evil. His salads were a work of art. They could have made healthy eating a pleasure for millions of people."

The chef, eyes like saucers, could only shrug wordlessly. With an apologetic glance at those customers who had remained to witness the fight, he drew a chalk line across the menu through 'SALAD 10c EXTRA' .

"Sorry, Max." The Chief and Larabee had arrived to collect the body. "You'll get your reward, but you'll just have to wait for it. There's a lot of paperwork involved, and then there's tax and insurance to deduct from the lump sum..."
"Tax? Chief, I need that money today, not next year!"

The Chief tried to look stern, but he just couldn't stand Max's pleading face.
"All right! All right!" Producing his wallet, he counted out a hundred dollars with an ill grace. "Call this an advance on your reward. But you don't have time to go shopping now! Find that KAOS radio station. You've got four hours."

Max stuffed the bills into his jacket pocket, where they promptly fell through one of the rents made by The Knife. He thought for a second, then carefully tucked the money into his sock.

"Don't worry about a thing, Chief. Maxwell Smart is on the case!"

* * * * *

West and Fourth was in the middle of the shopping district. Unfortunately, none of the stores looked as though they might contain appropriate gifts for a first wedding anniversary. They were mostly electrical goods retailers and hardware stores. Max paused at a window display of radio sets.

"Hmm...it would be just like KAOS to use a radio store as a cover for a radio station. The old double bluff. Well, they didn't reckon on me. I can outsmart that bunch of dishonest disc jockeys any day of the week!"

He marched into the store, setting the bell above the door jangling.

The counter was manned by a sweet little old lady with silvery hair. Max glared at her; he had met sweet little silvery-haired KAOS agents many a time. She looked at him over the top of her spectacles and smiled: such a nice young man.

Disconcerted, Max began to examine the merchandise. There were hi-fi units stacked on every shelf, from tiny portable sets in pastel shades to giant home entertainment systems with autochange and FF/RR. A top-of-the-range eight-track chuckled to itself as it played a Monkees cassette, and two teenagers listening to a record through massive headphones stomped and twirled. If KAOS' broadcast equipment was camouflaged somewhere among this lot it would take him all day to find it. And to avoid detection by the shopkeeper he would need to exercise all the tact and subtlety at his command.

He took a pen from his pocket, gave it a twist, and a crosshead screwdriver emerged from the tip. Heading for the biggest piece of equipment in the store, he began to disembowel it.

Max was sitting crosslegged on the floor, multicoloured wires wound about his neck like a Hawaiian lei. Screws rolled everywhere, and plywood shavings littered the floor. A jeweller's lens jammed in his eye, he was poking among the circuitry of a pocket radio set; even the smallest, most innocent-looking piece of apparatus could be the hiding-place for KAOS' powerful broadcasting equipment. So intent on his task was he that the old lady had to walk right up and tap him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Aaaah! Don't do that!" In one fluid movement Max had jumped up in a shower of volume knobs, spun round and assumed a karate stance.

The shopkeeper surveyed the hi-fi carnage around him. "Young man, what are you doing?" she asked patiently, as if she'd discovered her favourite cat tangled up in her knitting wool.

Max gave an exhausted sigh. "OK, I give up. Are you KAOS?"

She frowned. "We stock Grundig, Ferguson, Phillips and Sony, but we don't carry Kaos. What kind of set did you have in mind?"

"One capable of transmitting the dastardly plots of our nation's enemies to their lair in America's heartland!"

"Oh no, we don't have anything like that. But I can sell you a nice portable gramophone - oops, it's 'record player' these days, isn't it?"

A parallel cable slowly unwound from Max's waist and slithered to the floor.

"I'm afraid I'll have to charge you for...this." She gestured helplessly at the mess. Like a small boy docked of his allowance for breaking a window, Max reluctantly fished his hundred dollars from his sock and handed it over.

* * * * *

Time was running out. Max was on the last street of the block. If he didn't find the KAOS radio station here, CONTROL must have got its calculations wrong and sent him to the wrong place. Either that or he had overlooked some vital clue. Max shook his head, dismissing this ridiculous notion from his mind.

Then he saw something that drove all thoughts of the mission from even his trained agent's brain. A boutique with a pink façade and a sign that read in cursive script: Everything For Her.

Max had always thought of 99 as one of the boys, but since their wedding night he had been in no doubt whatsoever that she was very much a her. And this shop sold everything for her - it said so, right over the door. Within those four walls lay the solution to all his problems. Okay, he was out of cash, but finding the store had been such a stroke of luck he was sure that nothing else could stand in his way. A little chutzpah and a little of the old Smart charm and he'd be fine.

Five minutes later he had revised his opinion. The store should have been called 'Everything for Her, unless the Her in Question is Agent 99'. Max couldn't find a single thing his wife would like. Perfume? She usually just borrowed his eau de Cologne. Chocolates? Too worried about her figure. Hmm, what was this? Max picked up a small, delicate item in red lace and scrutinised it for a few moments before recoiling and dropping it like a hot coal. Definitely not!

It didn't help that the burly, unshaven man behind the counter was watching Max's every move as he browsed. Somehow Max had thought the shop would be staffed by a woman, perhaps one who could help him in his dilemma.

He picked up a pink satin cushion embroidered with the phrase 'To My Love'. As he did so a large poodle in crochet dropped to the floor, and Max bent to retrieve it. Surprised by its weight, he turned it over for further inspection. A thick wire trailed from the toy's belly.

Max looked the poodle in its button eye. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, fella. But duty calls." His penknife slit the dog's stomach, revealing a squat black radio transmitter emblazoned with the KAOS crest.

So that was their little game! Fortunately Max's instinct had led him straight to their hiding-place - at least, that's what Max told himself as he began to straighten up. But an obstruction behind his right ear met him halfway.

"Turn around. Slowly." It was the shop assistant, a pistol in his fist. Max turned around. Slowly.

"Ten minutes till broadcast time. You cut it a little fine, Agent 86. We were expecting you hours ago."

"Yes, well...Maxwell Smart is never predictable."

"Yeah? Well I predict that I'm gonna hit you with this pistol, and you're gonna fall over and not bother me until that radio message is long gone."

He lunged forward, bringing the gun down with a chopping movement. But Max grabbed his arm and pulled it forwards, overbalancing the KAOS man so he sprawled on the floor. Max quickly commandeered the gun and sent his opponent to sleep with a brisk tap, then whirled to face the trio of enemy agents who had burst in from the back room.

The first man he shot through the left shoulder. The second cannoned into the first as he fell, and both crashed into a display of pale blue teddy bears. Max fired again, but the bullet missed the remaining KAOS agent and passed through a baby doll which began to chant "I love you! I love you!" in a mechanical whine. Max's eyes flicked to the doll for a second, and in that moment the enemy was upon him. The KAOS man was larger and heavier than Max and easily pinned him to the ground.

Max's outstretched hand flailed on the floor and caught something - it was the lacy item which had so embarrassed him earlier. A gleam of triumph came into his eyes. As his opponent raised his fist to deliver the knockout blow, Max wrapped the undergarment around the beefy neck and jerked. The other man's eyes rolled upwards and his body went limp. Now Max only had one problem: getting out from under him.

* * * * *

In all his years at CONTROL, the Chief had never been presented with four KAOS agents tied up in lingerie. Max gestured to them proudly.
"I couldn't find any rope, Chief. I had to improvise."
"Well done, Max. Larabee will clean up here; I believe you have a busy evening ahead of you."
"I do?"

"I love you! I love you!" droned the baby doll. On cue, 99 ran into the shop and subsequently Max's arms.
"Max! Are you all right? What happened to you?"
Max looked down at his tattered clothes. "All in a day's work, 99," he said, hastily concealing the wound on his chest.
"Do you want to put your new watch on now?"

The words hit Max like a sledgehammer. His first wedding anniversary was almost over and he had no gift for the woman he loved.
"99, I don't deserve it. I haven't got you - "
"Oh, Max, I forgot in all the excitement," interrupted the Chief. "This came for you today."
Beaming, he held out a cardboard box. Max took it and removed several layers of tissue paper before discovering a small silver cup.
"It's the Agent of the Year award, Max!" The Chief smiled. "Third year running - that means the cup is yours to keep now. Congratulations."

Max held it to the light. The Agent of the Year award represented everything he held dear - his career, his duty to the nation, his commitment to CONTROL and the number of criminals he had brought to justice. And now it was his forever.

He gripped the precious cup by the handles for a few seconds before solemnly presenting it to his wife.

"Max no! This award means the world to you!"
"No, 99, you mean the world to me." He put his hands over hers as she held the cup.
"You are and always will be my Agent of the Year, this year, next year and every year."
"Oh, Max!" She closed her eyes and nestled into his arms. Max kissed the upturned mouth, his new watch ticking loudly in 99's ears as he hugged her.

"Max, this is the perfect present!"
"I'm glad you like it. Shall we go to dinner now?"
"Yes please, Max!"
"99...will you pay for dinner?"
"No, Max."
"Then can we go Dutch?"
"No, Max."

The Chief watched them walk away arm in arm, then set about the task of untangling the KAOS agents...