My Get Smart stories are set during the 1970s - after the original series
but before the reunions. Max and 99 are married, Thaddeus is still the
Chief, the twins are sometimes mentioned but seldom seen. In other words,
not much has changed - ChrisR.
THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAX
The cabin-cruiser lay moored with no land in sight. Waves broke gently on its side imparting a rolling motion which, together with the regular sound, lulled the couple on deck into a light slumber. The couple who were reclining on matching deck chairs. The couple who were, in fact, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell Smart, secret agents 86 and 99 for Control.
Max stirred slightly, lazily opening one eye. Off in the distance, just on the horizon, he saw a blur of colour. He opened the other eye and the colour resolved into a purple cloud.
"Look, 99!" he cried, at the same time jerking upright. The motion caused the deck chair to completely collapse under him.
99 sat up with more grace. "What is it, Max?" she asked sleepily.
"Over there, that purple patch of peasoup," Max replied from the ruins of his deck-chair. "Sorry about that," he added, having forgotten to guard against the flying saliva propelled by his propensity for p-words.
99 looked in the direction he pointed. "Oh, I see it," she said. "It's pretty."
"Pretty?" Max was plainly shocked. "Pretty unusual don't you think?"
"Yes . . . but, Max . . ."
"It's obviously a Kaos plot," he told her assuredly. "I'd better call the Chief." He reached for his shoe-phone.
"But, Max," she chided gently, "it's our day off."
"There are no holidays in the fight against evil, 99."
"I know that, Max, but you've got to learn to relax. Do you see any evidence of Kaos?"
Max looked around. "No."
"Do you see any men? Any enemy ships?"
"I guess you're right, 99. I've just been working too hard." He rubbed his forehead tiredly.
"Good, Max." She stood up. "Would you like a cold drink?"
"Yes, thank-you, 99." Max watched as 99 disappeared below deck. Then he stood and spent several futile minutes attempting to reassemble his chair. He finally gave up, deciding instead to stroll over to the railing. He leaned on the top rail and studied the purple haze. It seemed much bigger now.
He blinked, then realised. It was coming closer. It seemed to take on the aura of a ferocious sea monster. He tried to clear his mind but somehow he could not shake the feeling of imminent danger.
The cloud was almost within arm's reach now. Max could see that it was as big as the boat. Fear grew within him. He turned and ran. But it was already too late. The boat was completely enveloped in mist before he had even run a few feet. He slipped on a pool of condensation and went sliding across the deck, stopping mere inches from the hatchway. By then the mist- cloud had passed over and strange purple steam was rising from the deck as the last of the condensation evaporated under the warm sun. Without realising it, Max closed his shirt collar around his throat.
99 chose this moment to reappear on deck carrying a tray with two glasses of iced tea. The only sign that anything had happened was the not-too- unusual sight of Max lying awkwardly on the deck.
"Max! What happened?" She hurriedly put down the tray and knelt beside him.
He looked up at her. "The- the mist- it p-passed over the boat," he replied dazedly.
"You're shivering!" she observed frantically.
Max hardly heard her. "My- my whole body is tingling all over."
99 watched him concernedly for a moment, then turned and stared uncertainly at the mysterious purple, now a mere speck on the horizon.
Act I
Max stopped halfway down the stairs of his apartment, frowning. He did up the last button on his shirt and stared down at the sleeves which almost completely covered his knuckles.
"99," he called, "I think the laundry delivered the wrong shirts."
"That can't be, Max," said 99, appearing from the kitchen. "I checked them myself."
"But look at these sleeves; they look like they were made for a gorilla."
"Look inside the collar," she suggested. "I sewed your name in all your shirts."
"That's another thing. This collar. It's big enough to drive a fleet of trucks through."
"Max, you're exagerating."
"Would you believe a fleet of motorcycles?"
99 knew better than to try to stop her husband when he was on a roll. "I don't think so," she prompted gently.
"How about a Tonka toy?" he finished.
"It looks all right to me," 99 opined.
"That's because you're over there on the outside looking in," Max retorted. "If you were on the inside you'd find that inside looking out and outside looking in are two different things. Er," he scratched his head looking confused. ". . . outside looking inside out . . ." He opened his mouth as if to go on, then changed his mind and said instead "Anyway this shirt is definitely too big." He glanced at his watch. "But I'm already late so I don't have time to change. Aren't you coming, 99?" He walked down the rest of the stairs.
"I'll come in later, Max. I have to wait for someone."
"That's all right. I can wait with you. The Chief won't mind."
"It isn't necessary, Max. You know how the Chief hates to be kept waiting."
"Don't be ridiculous, 99. He'll understand. Who are you waiting for?"
"My mother."
"Oh," Max's face took on a distasteful expression. "Er, that's what I say - the Chief hates to be kept waiting."
He grabbed his jacket from the closet and hurriedly left the apartment, closing the door behind him.
Max walked into the Chief's office puffing. He said nothing but it seemed to him that the walk down the corridor to the secret telephone entrance had been longer than usual.
"Where have you been?" the Chief demanded crossly. "You know how I hate to be kept waiting."
"Sorry about that, Chief," Max apologised. "My shirt was too big."
The Chief could feel the beginnings of another headache. He crossed the room and sat down at his desk before asking quietly:
"What?"
"My shirt was too big," Max repeated. "99 said 'Look in the collar' but she was inside out."
The Chief briefly covered his eyes. "Max! We don't have time to discuss your wardrobe. I have an important case for you."
Max brightened as the Chief activated his intercom. "Larabee, bring the O'Leary file in." He flipped the switch off.
The door slid open with a hum. Larabee appeared carrying the required folder. He walked over to the desk, next to where Max was standing. He handed the papers to the Chief who sat silently, studying them for several minutes.
"Say, Larabee," said Max, "that's a beautiful tie you're wearing."
"Thanks, Max. It was a present from my wife. She always says I'm fit to be tied."
Max stepped forward to examine the tie more closely. Suddenly he realised that something wasn't right. He looked from the tie to Larabee's face. "Larabee . . . you're not by any chance wearing elevator shoes, are you?"
Larabee looked pained. "Of course not."
"I didn't think so." It was Max's turn to look pained. The enormity of the thought was overwhelming. The horror hadn't yet occurred to him. Neither had the ridiculousness; absurdity had never been a barrier to Max's thinking. "Chief . . ."
"What is it?" the Chief asked absently, without looking up from the papers he was studying.
"I'm looking up to Larabee," Max said.
Larabee grinned. "That's nice of you to say, Max."
Max ignored him. "What I'm trying to say is: I'm shorter than Larabee - and nobody's shorter than Larabee."
Larabee's grin vanished. With a loud snort, he turned on his heels and stalked out of the office.
The Chief looked up in time to see the door slide closed behind him.
Max turned to him, perplexed. "Was it something I said?"
"Probably. You know how temperamental he is."
"I'm sorry, Chief, but I'm sure I'm not shorter than Larabee," Max replied. "I wasn't yesterday anyway," he muttered.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Chief," said Max solemnly, "I don't know how to tell you this but I'm shrinking."
"You're what?"
"I'm shrinking, Chief. That's the only explanation."
The Chief studied Max's face. "I can see that this is worrying you," he began quietly, "but think about what you're saying. It's incredible."
"I know, Chief, but everything fits - my shirt being too big, the longer walk and now being shorter than Larabee. Everything fits except my shirt." He looked down at himself. "And my jacket . . . My trouser legs are a bit long . . ."
"What about your shoes?" the Chief asked, only slightly amused.
"They do seem a little roomy, now that you mention it."
"Well, I suppose I asked for that one." The Chief sighed. "Max . . . people don't just shrink."
"But, Larabee-"
"Forget about Larabee, Max."
"Believe me, Chief, I've been trying to do that for years."
The Chief adopted his best fatherly tone. "I want you to go home and rest. Take tomorrow off too. You've been working hard lately and you're imagining things."
"Maybe you're right," said Max, suddenly feeling very tired. "Maybe all I need is a good night's sleep and everything'll be back to normal."
"That's right, Max," said the Chief, but Max remained unconvinced.
Max left the office slowly, apologising to Larabee on the way out.
There was a knock at the door. 99 walked across to it.
"What's the password?" she called.
"Ticonderoga."
Smiling, 99 released the several locks and catches which held the door.
"Why didn't you use your key?" she asked, opening the door. The smile froze on her lips. With the door now fully open the answer was immediately obvious. At less than three feet tall Max was too short to reach the door knob. 99 stared horrified at the dishevelled pile that was Max. His clothes, now many sizes too big, hung loosely about him. He held his trousers up with one hand.
"Max!" gasped 99. "What happened?"
Max looked around the apartment furtively. "Is your mother gone?"
"Yes," 99 replied distractedly, "she took the twins to the zoo."
"Good. I don't know how we'd explain this to them."
"Well how about explaining it to me."
"I don't know if I can, 99, but I'll try." He paused for several seconds trying to find the right words, then told her, as best he could, the same story he had told the Chief. Faced with the tangible evidence of Max himself, 99 could hardly help but believe.
"Poor Max," she sympathised.
"And that's not the half of it," he continued. "I was trying to get home before I got too small to handle the car and I was driving maybe a little over the speed limit."
"Were you picked up?"
"Yes, I got three tickets."
"For speeding?"
"Well, two were for speeding. One was for indecent exposure."
"Indecent exposure?" 99's eyes widened. "How did that happen?"
"Well, I was so small by the time the second officer stopped me that he didn't believe I was old enough to have a licence. He made me get out of the car and when I stood up my pants fell down."
Max suddenly became aware of something new in the apartment. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to a furry animal crouching nervously in the corner.
"It's a cat, Max."
Max rolled his eyes. "I know it's a cat, 99," he said, " but what's it doing here?"
"My mother brought it for the twins. Don't worry," she added, anticipating his objection, "the twins know the landlord won't let us keep a pet but my mother was so excited I didn't want to disappoint her. In a couple of days I'll call Beast Eastern animal shelter and they'll find her a good home."
"Your mother?"
"No, the cat."
"Oh."
There was a few seconds silence as they both considered what to do about the more immediate problem. Then 99, in a moment of resolve, announced:
"Max, we're going right back down to headquarters and show the Chief that you're really shrinking."
"Right, 99, but you better drive."
"Why, Max?"
"I don't think my legs are long enough to reach the pedals."
"Now tell me I'm imagining things!" Max raged. Unfortunately the effect was unintentionally comical as Max was now wearing a blue and white sailor suit which his son had, ironically, outgrown. This provided a better fit than his previous attire but in no way disguised the fact that he was indeed shrinking.
The Chief stared at him, amazed and shocked. "I'm sorry, Max," he stammered, "but- but it's . . ." He stopped in mid-sentence, unable to find a suitable word for the experience. He turned to 99. "Haven't either of you any idea of what may have caused this?"
"Perhaps Kaos put something in my food," Max suggested.
"That can't be," said 99. "We eat the same thing. What happened to you would have happened to me, too."
The Chief began pacing. "Isn't there anything unusual that's happened over, say, the past week. Something that happened while you were alone, perhaps?"
Max shook his shrunken head. "No, Chief."
"Wait a minute, Max," said 99. "What about the other day when we were out boating. That purple cloud."
Max looked up. "That could be it, 99."
"What purple cloud? What are you talking about?" asked the Chief.
"The other day," 99 began, "on our day off, Max and I went out boating. Well, when I was below, this giant purple cloud covered over the whole boat and when I came back Max was on deck shivering."
"My skin was tingling all over, Chief," Max put in.
"And this . . . incident just slipped both your minds until now?"
Max looked hurt. "Well, you can't expect us to remember everything, Chief."
99 nodded agreement.
The Chief picked up the phone. "First I'm ordering an Alpha-level search of the area around where you were when this happened. Then we're going down to the lab."
"Right, Chief. We'll search that lab with a fine-tooth comb."
The Chief groaned inwardly. "We're not going to search the lab, Max. We're going to see if Professor Walker can come up with a cure for whatever it is that's happened to you."
Max brightened. "That's an even better idea."
"I'll need another blood sample, Mr. Smart."
Max looked queasy. "Another one?" he complained. "I'm beginning to feel like a pin cushion." Indeed, for a man now accurately measured at 27 3/4 inches, five samples was a goodly portion of his blood supply and the needles themselves were relatively huge.
"This will be the last one," promised Professor Walker. Max winced as he inserted the needle into a hitherto unused vein in his arm and drew out the sample.
They all watched anxiously as the professor fed the sample into an intriguing machine and recorded the results on his clipboard chart. He studied the chart silently for a few moments before looking up.
"There is definitely a foreign substance in your blood stream," he announced. "However, it is not one which has ever before been recorded."
"Could it be Kaos?" asked the Chief.
Professor Walker stroked his beard thoughtfully. "That's difficult to say," he replied. "Although the substance is unfamiliar to me it is, of course, composed of known elements and these seem to form a fairly natural pattern. It will require further analysis to determine if it could have originated artificially or been channeled through a mechanical apparatus."
"Do you have any ideas about an antidote?" Max asked.
"I'm afraid not," replied Walker. "In fact it's really too early to know if an antidote for this substance is even possible." Sensing the collective disappointment of his audience, he continued, "I've got the whole lab staff working on this but, as you know, Control hasn't had a toxicology specialist since Dr. Steele left."
"Have you tried to contact her?" 99 asked.
"Yes, but she's in seclusion and can't be reached."
"Is she working on a Top Secret project?"
"No, she was in the cast of '1600 Pennsylvaia Avenue' - the musical."
"In that case I don't blame her for hiding out," Max said. "I heard that was a real turkey."
"What about outside help?" 99 demanded.
Walker nodded. "I've already put calls in to some of my colleagues at other agencies but there are no guarantees."
The Chief scowled. "Can't you give us anything definite?" he asked.
"Only this," Professor Walker replied. "At the rate Mr. Smart is shrinking, unless we can find some way to stop it within 48 hours, he'll disappear altogether."
Act II
Max woke with a start, falling out of bed in the process. The nightmare was already beginning to fade. Something silly about him shrinking. He couldn't have been more than six inches tall. Either that or 99, the Chief, even Larabee turning into giants. Him narrowly avoiding being skewered by 99's high heels. He couldn't quite remember the rest.
He sat up and looked around the room, rubbing his head. He sighed with relief. All the furniture appeared to be normal size. He laughed at himself; it had just been a dream after all. And yet, the room itself was unfamiliar . . .
Why did the furniture seem so roughly made? And why was it painted in those bright colors? He hadn't woken up in a strange bed since his bachelor days. Or, actually, ever if you wanted to get technical.
"Max!"
The call pierced his reverie. The voice was 99's, yet it seemed loud and unnatural. Max stood up trying to determine where the voice was coming from.
"Max, are you awake?" 99's voice sounded more urgent this time. It seemed to be coming from all around him.
He continued his survey and gasped. There was a huge, frightening (yet very attractive) blue eye peering in at him through the glassless window. That's when it all came back to him. The nightmare was real.
99 stooped towards the doll house which was standing on the floor in the living room. She reflected on how many times she had asked her daughter to put away her toys; not today. She saw Max walk over to the little window and look out.
"Oh, there you are," she said, relieved. "Are you all right?"
"Terrific," Max replied sarcastically, and his voice was higher than usual owing to shrinkage of his throat muscles.
"How are you feeling?" 99 rephrased.
"If you must know I feel like Fay Wray," Max told her bitterly.
"Oh, Max," said 99 sympathetically, "try to take your mind off your size and cheer up."
"How can I take my mind off my size when I'm living in a doll's house?"
"Try to think of something else for a while."
"Like what?"
"Well, what would you like for lunch?"
"What would you suggest?" Max asked, becoming interested.
"How about shrimp salad?"
Max winced.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Max. I wasn't thinking."
"That's all right, 99. I don't feel much like eating anyway."
"But you've got to have something. We could send out for Chinese food. An order of short soup." 99 stopped suddenly. "I did it again. I'm sorry."
99 was prevented from further putting her foot in her mouth by a knock on the door. Still apologising profusely, she disappeared from Max's field of view and returned moments later carrying a large box. Max watched silently as she cut away the ribbon from the parcel and lifted the lid revealing . . .
"Flowers? I wonder who . . ." She picked up the enclosed card and read it. "Max . . . this card is from you."
"I know it, 99."
"Why did you send me flowers at a time like this?"
"Well, 99, I wanted you to have something to remember me by."
"But, Max, these flowers are just going to fade away."
"That's what you'll remember me by."
"Max! Don't you talk like that. Professor Walker will find an antidote in time. I'm sure he will."
Max shook his head. "Let's face it, 99. The forty-eight hours he gave me is almost up. If he doesn't come up with an antidote by this afternoon I'll disappear completely."
The telephone rang while 99 was trying to think of a cheerful answer. She walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver.
"Hello . . . Oh, hello, Chief . . . Now? . . . But, Chief, why does it have to be me? . . . What about Max? . . . All right, Chief, I understand . . . No, the twins are staying at my mothers' for a few days . . . She was glad to take them. She's been wanting to for months . . . All right, Chief, I'll be right there . . . Goodbye." 99 hung up.
"That was the Chief," she said.
"No kidding," Max replied. "I thought it was Simple Simon's pieman."
99 sighed. "The new leader of an Iron Curtain country is arriving in Washington today and the Chief wants me to meet him at the airport and escort him to Control."
"Now?"
"He said he was only just informed of it by the President. It's very important, Max. Our nation's security could depend on their talks."
"But why does it have to be you?"
"He said he wouldn't normally ask me at a time like this but I was the only agent he could contact at such short notice."
"What about me?"
"You'll be all right, Max. I'll be back as quickly as I can." When Max didn't reply she added, "It's my duty, Max."
"All right, 99, I understand."
99 frowned. She walked over to the closet, removed her coat and put it on. She walked back to the doll house.
"See you soon, Max."
"Right, 99."
"You won't be lonely?"
"If I am I can always get up a poker game with Ken and Barbie."
Max paced the hall, passing several plastic doors. He stopped outside the one which passed for the bathroom and went in. None of the plumbing was functional but he had set up a piece of a ruler by which he could measure his descent into oblivion.
He stood by the ruler briefly and turned around: four and a half inches.
Next to the ruler was a hand mirror from 99's purse. Max stood in front of it but he didn't need it to tell him that even the doll's clothes he was now wearing were becoming loose as he grew ever smaller.
Downcast, he left the bathroom, re-entering the hall. He walked to the staircase and proceded down it. Though made only of light plastic, the stairs easily supported his Liliputian mass.
Stepping into the living room, Max made his way to an easy chair and sat down. The chair was not so easy, however, being made of hard plastic and having a straight back. Not many dolls would have complained. He sat pensively for several minutes before becoming aware of a throaty rumble behind him. He turned around just in time to see a huge cat's paw strike at him through the window. He leaped from the chair, narrowly avoiding the extended claws which sent the chair flying across the room. He'd forgotten about that cat, a present from his mother-in-law. But it was unlikely that he would ever forget it again.
Max backed cautiously away from the window, forgetting about the window on the opposite wall. Inches way, he felt a breeze behind him. Whirling around, he saw the paw clawing at him again. As a reflex, he swatted the paw with his open hand and it retreated outside.
Determinedly keeping to the centre of the room, Max braced himself and waited for the next assault.
It wasn't long coming. Max struggled to maintain balance as he felt the whole house tremble. He could tell that the cat was now perched on the roof, causing it to rock from side to side. The doll house was not built to take such punishment and Max could already hear creaking sounds. Cracks started appearing in the walls.
Max made a command decision. Calmly weighing the alternatives, he decided he would be better off taking his chances in the open than being crushed inside the house. With the floor lurching under him like a ship in rough seas, he carefully made his way to the door, flung it open and ran outside screaming hysterically.
He was startled by the size of the real living room. In the doll house the degree of his shrinkage had not been so marked but now the contast was vivid. He had little time to think about it. The cat was standing on the doll house, its back arched. Suddenly it sprang down at him. As though he was a mouse, Max thought.
Max bolted. He was surprised and disoriented by the fact that he could not find his way around his own living room. Furniture and other objects loomed above him. The only thing readily identifiable was the hissing monster which chased him ever onward.
Ahead of him, Max saw what appeared to be a sturdy rubber rope, dangling down a sheer cliff-face from an apparent height of over thirty feet. He couldn't recall ever having seen such a thing in his apartment before, but he hoped that, by climbing it, he would gain at least a temporary respite from the cat which hounded him.
His commando training gave him the knowledge if not the ability for such a climb. He grasped the 'rope' and tested it. Then began inching his way up. After a climb long and hard enough to earn a merit badge and several bruises, he clambered over the edge and rested briefly. When he looked up he nearly fell back down in surprise. He had climbed up the telephone lead and the telephone itself loomed ahead of him. He had a sudden thought. If he could call the Chief, maybe he could get someone to come and rescue him from the cat. He walked across what he now realised was the sideboard. The receiver was about four times his own size. This was not going to be easy. He failed several times before, finally, summoning all his strength, he freed the receiver from its cradle and sent it plummeting over the edge of the sideboard. He didn't have a chance to try dialing before he heard a screeching behind him as the cat alighted on the telephone.
Max dived for the phone lead, discovered too late that it was the receiver cable, and swung round and round as he slid down its coiled length like a helter skelter.
He landed on the floor with a thud. Then stood shakily and staggered dizzily around. He barely had time to collect his senses before the cat was beside him and he was off and running again.
He stopped for breath behind the protection of a large black object, relatively the size of a car, which seemed to be permeated with a pungent odour. He peered cautiously over the edge. The cat was across the room, evidently sniffing out a false lead.
Curious, Max made his way around the black car-size object. It had a raised heel at one end and laces down the front. He nodded knowingly to himself. It was one of his own shoes; and the pungent odour he detected was none other than freshly applied shoe polish. Inside the shoe was a sock. With no obvious alternative and with the cat getting closer, he scrambled over the edge of the shoe and plunged into the softness of the sock. His nose wrinkled, sniffing. There was a worse odour inside than outside.
Meanwhile, the cat had padded silently up to the shoe and was sniffing around it. Inside, Max could not see the cat until it was directly above him as it looked into the shoe. Then it was only a quick glimpse of the ferocious face before the cat grasped the sock in its teeth and pulled it from the shoe sending Max flying through the air.
The room blurred by, totally disorienting him. Then it suddenly got dark and he hit something hard and stopped short.
Max couldn't know it but he was under the sofa and had fallen against a metal lever. A few feet away the roll-up rug activated, forming a long cylinder. The cat was clear of the area and was interested only in Max. Max stood up, counted no bones broken, and walked toward the light. The cat followed.
Looking behind him, Max quickened his pace and made for the roll-up rug, which he saw as a long tunnel. He hoped to throw the cat off the trail by walking through it. The opening was too small for the cat, so it waited at one end while Max walked through and emerged at the other. But this cat was not to be evaded so easily. It spotted the motion as Max exited the rug and bounded off after him.
Max started to run but the trip across the room in his reduced state was taking its toll. He slowed to a trot after only a few steps, tiring rapidly. Little wonder after the equivalent of miles' hiking. He was walking now, unable to go any faster, and the cat was gaining on him.
The cat seemed to sense Max's growing weakness. Now puffing violently, Max was unaware that the cat was herding him into a corner. Too late, he became aware of the walls hard behind him and the cat advancing in front. Too tired, he couldn't have gone any further if he tried. The cat's fur stood up on its back as it prepared to pounce.
99 turned her key in the lock and opened the door. Instantly, she became aware of Max's almost inaudible screams for help. She wheeled around, saw the cat, saw Max.
"Max!"
99 was across the room, had scooped up the cat and was back at the front door. She roughly bundled the cat outside and returned to Max, now recovering his breath.
"Max, are you all right?"
"Not so loud," said Max, holding his hands to his ears in pain.
"Are you all right?" 99 repeated in a whisper.
"Yes, 99, you came in just in time. Another minute and I would have been cat food."
Another few minutes and Max was cleaned up and safely re-installed in his doll house, still standing albeit the worse for the battle which had taken place there. Now shrunk to two inches, Max found climbing the stairs a struggle and even the doll-size furniture dwarfed him. Having outshrunk the doll clothes, he was now clad only in a strategically hung piece of the ribbon 99 had discarded earlier.
With things calm again, 99 approached the doll house. "There's some good news about the antidote," she whispered. "When I was down at Control they told me-"
There was a knock on the apartment door; to Max it sounded like rolling thunder.
99 answered it. "Chief. Professor Walker. Come in."
'Have you told Max that Professor Walker has the antidote?" the Chief asked without preamble.
"I was just about to," 99 replied. "Max, did you hear that?"
"How could I miss with you all shouting like that?" Max complained from the window of the doll house. The others had come close enough to hear him now and he took the opportunity to add, "You better make it snappy, Professor. The way I figure it I only have a few minutes left."
"Time is of the essence," Walker agreed, "but there are certain procedures which must be followed."
"Such as what?"
"Well, simply put, rather than being either injected or taken orally, my recent experiments indicate that, to be effective, an antidote must be absorbed through the skin, as was the original contaminant in the mist."
"That seems logical," Max admitted. "What do you want me to do? Take a bath in it?"
Professor Walker nodded. "Exactly."
"You're kidding."
"Not at all." Professor Walker turned to 99. "Would you get a bowl or some container that I can pour this jar of formula into. He won't absorb all of it, of course, but his pores will open sufficiently to accept enough to react with his system. And I've mixed it to super-strength so we should get an immediate result."
99 set the bowl down behind the bar to accomodate Max's modesty and Walker emptied the jar into it.
"I suggest you have a bathrobe ready," the Chief said. "That ribbon won't cover a grown man."
"Good idea." 99 collected Max's bathrobe upstairs and hung it over the bar. Then she collected Max and carefully carried him across the room and put him down behind the bar.
99, the Chief and Professor Walker stood together, holding their collective breath. They heard a tiny splash as Max dived into the bowl and a tiny "ouch" has he hit his head.
Then, miraculously, Max's head appeared above the bar. Then his head and torso, growing in size and stature before their eyes. Suddenly, Max stood there full size. He looked down, pained, as the bowl crumbled beneath his normal weight and normal-sized feet. He put on his robe and emerged from behind the bar smiling broadly.
99 beamed as she put her arms around her husband - something she had been unable to do for two whole days.
The Chief looked on approvingly. He didn't speak but the relief was etched on his face.
"Good work, Professor," Max said.
"I'm afraid I can't take the credit, Smart," Walker replied.
"Then where did the antidote come from?"
"Well," 99 answered, "it turns out that you were right all along."
"Of course I was right, 99 . . . Right about what?"
"There was a Kaos ship in the area that day. International Control intercepted it this morning just outside the twelve mile limit. They arrested six Kaos agents and recovered the formula for the antidote."
"That was a break."
"Yes. Apparently the shrinking gas was invented by one of their scientists and they were looking for guinea pigs to test it on," 99 continued. "They didn't know we were Control agents, though. That was just dumb luck."
Max's face hardened. "Well, they met their match with Maxwell Smart."
The End
THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAX
The cabin-cruiser lay moored with no land in sight. Waves broke gently on its side imparting a rolling motion which, together with the regular sound, lulled the couple on deck into a light slumber. The couple who were reclining on matching deck chairs. The couple who were, in fact, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell Smart, secret agents 86 and 99 for Control.
Max stirred slightly, lazily opening one eye. Off in the distance, just on the horizon, he saw a blur of colour. He opened the other eye and the colour resolved into a purple cloud.
"Look, 99!" he cried, at the same time jerking upright. The motion caused the deck chair to completely collapse under him.
99 sat up with more grace. "What is it, Max?" she asked sleepily.
"Over there, that purple patch of peasoup," Max replied from the ruins of his deck-chair. "Sorry about that," he added, having forgotten to guard against the flying saliva propelled by his propensity for p-words.
99 looked in the direction he pointed. "Oh, I see it," she said. "It's pretty."
"Pretty?" Max was plainly shocked. "Pretty unusual don't you think?"
"Yes . . . but, Max . . ."
"It's obviously a Kaos plot," he told her assuredly. "I'd better call the Chief." He reached for his shoe-phone.
"But, Max," she chided gently, "it's our day off."
"There are no holidays in the fight against evil, 99."
"I know that, Max, but you've got to learn to relax. Do you see any evidence of Kaos?"
Max looked around. "No."
"Do you see any men? Any enemy ships?"
"I guess you're right, 99. I've just been working too hard." He rubbed his forehead tiredly.
"Good, Max." She stood up. "Would you like a cold drink?"
"Yes, thank-you, 99." Max watched as 99 disappeared below deck. Then he stood and spent several futile minutes attempting to reassemble his chair. He finally gave up, deciding instead to stroll over to the railing. He leaned on the top rail and studied the purple haze. It seemed much bigger now.
He blinked, then realised. It was coming closer. It seemed to take on the aura of a ferocious sea monster. He tried to clear his mind but somehow he could not shake the feeling of imminent danger.
The cloud was almost within arm's reach now. Max could see that it was as big as the boat. Fear grew within him. He turned and ran. But it was already too late. The boat was completely enveloped in mist before he had even run a few feet. He slipped on a pool of condensation and went sliding across the deck, stopping mere inches from the hatchway. By then the mist- cloud had passed over and strange purple steam was rising from the deck as the last of the condensation evaporated under the warm sun. Without realising it, Max closed his shirt collar around his throat.
99 chose this moment to reappear on deck carrying a tray with two glasses of iced tea. The only sign that anything had happened was the not-too- unusual sight of Max lying awkwardly on the deck.
"Max! What happened?" She hurriedly put down the tray and knelt beside him.
He looked up at her. "The- the mist- it p-passed over the boat," he replied dazedly.
"You're shivering!" she observed frantically.
Max hardly heard her. "My- my whole body is tingling all over."
99 watched him concernedly for a moment, then turned and stared uncertainly at the mysterious purple, now a mere speck on the horizon.
Act I
Max stopped halfway down the stairs of his apartment, frowning. He did up the last button on his shirt and stared down at the sleeves which almost completely covered his knuckles.
"99," he called, "I think the laundry delivered the wrong shirts."
"That can't be, Max," said 99, appearing from the kitchen. "I checked them myself."
"But look at these sleeves; they look like they were made for a gorilla."
"Look inside the collar," she suggested. "I sewed your name in all your shirts."
"That's another thing. This collar. It's big enough to drive a fleet of trucks through."
"Max, you're exagerating."
"Would you believe a fleet of motorcycles?"
99 knew better than to try to stop her husband when he was on a roll. "I don't think so," she prompted gently.
"How about a Tonka toy?" he finished.
"It looks all right to me," 99 opined.
"That's because you're over there on the outside looking in," Max retorted. "If you were on the inside you'd find that inside looking out and outside looking in are two different things. Er," he scratched his head looking confused. ". . . outside looking inside out . . ." He opened his mouth as if to go on, then changed his mind and said instead "Anyway this shirt is definitely too big." He glanced at his watch. "But I'm already late so I don't have time to change. Aren't you coming, 99?" He walked down the rest of the stairs.
"I'll come in later, Max. I have to wait for someone."
"That's all right. I can wait with you. The Chief won't mind."
"It isn't necessary, Max. You know how the Chief hates to be kept waiting."
"Don't be ridiculous, 99. He'll understand. Who are you waiting for?"
"My mother."
"Oh," Max's face took on a distasteful expression. "Er, that's what I say - the Chief hates to be kept waiting."
He grabbed his jacket from the closet and hurriedly left the apartment, closing the door behind him.
Max walked into the Chief's office puffing. He said nothing but it seemed to him that the walk down the corridor to the secret telephone entrance had been longer than usual.
"Where have you been?" the Chief demanded crossly. "You know how I hate to be kept waiting."
"Sorry about that, Chief," Max apologised. "My shirt was too big."
The Chief could feel the beginnings of another headache. He crossed the room and sat down at his desk before asking quietly:
"What?"
"My shirt was too big," Max repeated. "99 said 'Look in the collar' but she was inside out."
The Chief briefly covered his eyes. "Max! We don't have time to discuss your wardrobe. I have an important case for you."
Max brightened as the Chief activated his intercom. "Larabee, bring the O'Leary file in." He flipped the switch off.
The door slid open with a hum. Larabee appeared carrying the required folder. He walked over to the desk, next to where Max was standing. He handed the papers to the Chief who sat silently, studying them for several minutes.
"Say, Larabee," said Max, "that's a beautiful tie you're wearing."
"Thanks, Max. It was a present from my wife. She always says I'm fit to be tied."
Max stepped forward to examine the tie more closely. Suddenly he realised that something wasn't right. He looked from the tie to Larabee's face. "Larabee . . . you're not by any chance wearing elevator shoes, are you?"
Larabee looked pained. "Of course not."
"I didn't think so." It was Max's turn to look pained. The enormity of the thought was overwhelming. The horror hadn't yet occurred to him. Neither had the ridiculousness; absurdity had never been a barrier to Max's thinking. "Chief . . ."
"What is it?" the Chief asked absently, without looking up from the papers he was studying.
"I'm looking up to Larabee," Max said.
Larabee grinned. "That's nice of you to say, Max."
Max ignored him. "What I'm trying to say is: I'm shorter than Larabee - and nobody's shorter than Larabee."
Larabee's grin vanished. With a loud snort, he turned on his heels and stalked out of the office.
The Chief looked up in time to see the door slide closed behind him.
Max turned to him, perplexed. "Was it something I said?"
"Probably. You know how temperamental he is."
"I'm sorry, Chief, but I'm sure I'm not shorter than Larabee," Max replied. "I wasn't yesterday anyway," he muttered.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Chief," said Max solemnly, "I don't know how to tell you this but I'm shrinking."
"You're what?"
"I'm shrinking, Chief. That's the only explanation."
The Chief studied Max's face. "I can see that this is worrying you," he began quietly, "but think about what you're saying. It's incredible."
"I know, Chief, but everything fits - my shirt being too big, the longer walk and now being shorter than Larabee. Everything fits except my shirt." He looked down at himself. "And my jacket . . . My trouser legs are a bit long . . ."
"What about your shoes?" the Chief asked, only slightly amused.
"They do seem a little roomy, now that you mention it."
"Well, I suppose I asked for that one." The Chief sighed. "Max . . . people don't just shrink."
"But, Larabee-"
"Forget about Larabee, Max."
"Believe me, Chief, I've been trying to do that for years."
The Chief adopted his best fatherly tone. "I want you to go home and rest. Take tomorrow off too. You've been working hard lately and you're imagining things."
"Maybe you're right," said Max, suddenly feeling very tired. "Maybe all I need is a good night's sleep and everything'll be back to normal."
"That's right, Max," said the Chief, but Max remained unconvinced.
Max left the office slowly, apologising to Larabee on the way out.
There was a knock at the door. 99 walked across to it.
"What's the password?" she called.
"Ticonderoga."
Smiling, 99 released the several locks and catches which held the door.
"Why didn't you use your key?" she asked, opening the door. The smile froze on her lips. With the door now fully open the answer was immediately obvious. At less than three feet tall Max was too short to reach the door knob. 99 stared horrified at the dishevelled pile that was Max. His clothes, now many sizes too big, hung loosely about him. He held his trousers up with one hand.
"Max!" gasped 99. "What happened?"
Max looked around the apartment furtively. "Is your mother gone?"
"Yes," 99 replied distractedly, "she took the twins to the zoo."
"Good. I don't know how we'd explain this to them."
"Well how about explaining it to me."
"I don't know if I can, 99, but I'll try." He paused for several seconds trying to find the right words, then told her, as best he could, the same story he had told the Chief. Faced with the tangible evidence of Max himself, 99 could hardly help but believe.
"Poor Max," she sympathised.
"And that's not the half of it," he continued. "I was trying to get home before I got too small to handle the car and I was driving maybe a little over the speed limit."
"Were you picked up?"
"Yes, I got three tickets."
"For speeding?"
"Well, two were for speeding. One was for indecent exposure."
"Indecent exposure?" 99's eyes widened. "How did that happen?"
"Well, I was so small by the time the second officer stopped me that he didn't believe I was old enough to have a licence. He made me get out of the car and when I stood up my pants fell down."
Max suddenly became aware of something new in the apartment. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to a furry animal crouching nervously in the corner.
"It's a cat, Max."
Max rolled his eyes. "I know it's a cat, 99," he said, " but what's it doing here?"
"My mother brought it for the twins. Don't worry," she added, anticipating his objection, "the twins know the landlord won't let us keep a pet but my mother was so excited I didn't want to disappoint her. In a couple of days I'll call Beast Eastern animal shelter and they'll find her a good home."
"Your mother?"
"No, the cat."
"Oh."
There was a few seconds silence as they both considered what to do about the more immediate problem. Then 99, in a moment of resolve, announced:
"Max, we're going right back down to headquarters and show the Chief that you're really shrinking."
"Right, 99, but you better drive."
"Why, Max?"
"I don't think my legs are long enough to reach the pedals."
"Now tell me I'm imagining things!" Max raged. Unfortunately the effect was unintentionally comical as Max was now wearing a blue and white sailor suit which his son had, ironically, outgrown. This provided a better fit than his previous attire but in no way disguised the fact that he was indeed shrinking.
The Chief stared at him, amazed and shocked. "I'm sorry, Max," he stammered, "but- but it's . . ." He stopped in mid-sentence, unable to find a suitable word for the experience. He turned to 99. "Haven't either of you any idea of what may have caused this?"
"Perhaps Kaos put something in my food," Max suggested.
"That can't be," said 99. "We eat the same thing. What happened to you would have happened to me, too."
The Chief began pacing. "Isn't there anything unusual that's happened over, say, the past week. Something that happened while you were alone, perhaps?"
Max shook his shrunken head. "No, Chief."
"Wait a minute, Max," said 99. "What about the other day when we were out boating. That purple cloud."
Max looked up. "That could be it, 99."
"What purple cloud? What are you talking about?" asked the Chief.
"The other day," 99 began, "on our day off, Max and I went out boating. Well, when I was below, this giant purple cloud covered over the whole boat and when I came back Max was on deck shivering."
"My skin was tingling all over, Chief," Max put in.
"And this . . . incident just slipped both your minds until now?"
Max looked hurt. "Well, you can't expect us to remember everything, Chief."
99 nodded agreement.
The Chief picked up the phone. "First I'm ordering an Alpha-level search of the area around where you were when this happened. Then we're going down to the lab."
"Right, Chief. We'll search that lab with a fine-tooth comb."
The Chief groaned inwardly. "We're not going to search the lab, Max. We're going to see if Professor Walker can come up with a cure for whatever it is that's happened to you."
Max brightened. "That's an even better idea."
"I'll need another blood sample, Mr. Smart."
Max looked queasy. "Another one?" he complained. "I'm beginning to feel like a pin cushion." Indeed, for a man now accurately measured at 27 3/4 inches, five samples was a goodly portion of his blood supply and the needles themselves were relatively huge.
"This will be the last one," promised Professor Walker. Max winced as he inserted the needle into a hitherto unused vein in his arm and drew out the sample.
They all watched anxiously as the professor fed the sample into an intriguing machine and recorded the results on his clipboard chart. He studied the chart silently for a few moments before looking up.
"There is definitely a foreign substance in your blood stream," he announced. "However, it is not one which has ever before been recorded."
"Could it be Kaos?" asked the Chief.
Professor Walker stroked his beard thoughtfully. "That's difficult to say," he replied. "Although the substance is unfamiliar to me it is, of course, composed of known elements and these seem to form a fairly natural pattern. It will require further analysis to determine if it could have originated artificially or been channeled through a mechanical apparatus."
"Do you have any ideas about an antidote?" Max asked.
"I'm afraid not," replied Walker. "In fact it's really too early to know if an antidote for this substance is even possible." Sensing the collective disappointment of his audience, he continued, "I've got the whole lab staff working on this but, as you know, Control hasn't had a toxicology specialist since Dr. Steele left."
"Have you tried to contact her?" 99 asked.
"Yes, but she's in seclusion and can't be reached."
"Is she working on a Top Secret project?"
"No, she was in the cast of '1600 Pennsylvaia Avenue' - the musical."
"In that case I don't blame her for hiding out," Max said. "I heard that was a real turkey."
"What about outside help?" 99 demanded.
Walker nodded. "I've already put calls in to some of my colleagues at other agencies but there are no guarantees."
The Chief scowled. "Can't you give us anything definite?" he asked.
"Only this," Professor Walker replied. "At the rate Mr. Smart is shrinking, unless we can find some way to stop it within 48 hours, he'll disappear altogether."
Act II
Max woke with a start, falling out of bed in the process. The nightmare was already beginning to fade. Something silly about him shrinking. He couldn't have been more than six inches tall. Either that or 99, the Chief, even Larabee turning into giants. Him narrowly avoiding being skewered by 99's high heels. He couldn't quite remember the rest.
He sat up and looked around the room, rubbing his head. He sighed with relief. All the furniture appeared to be normal size. He laughed at himself; it had just been a dream after all. And yet, the room itself was unfamiliar . . .
Why did the furniture seem so roughly made? And why was it painted in those bright colors? He hadn't woken up in a strange bed since his bachelor days. Or, actually, ever if you wanted to get technical.
"Max!"
The call pierced his reverie. The voice was 99's, yet it seemed loud and unnatural. Max stood up trying to determine where the voice was coming from.
"Max, are you awake?" 99's voice sounded more urgent this time. It seemed to be coming from all around him.
He continued his survey and gasped. There was a huge, frightening (yet very attractive) blue eye peering in at him through the glassless window. That's when it all came back to him. The nightmare was real.
99 stooped towards the doll house which was standing on the floor in the living room. She reflected on how many times she had asked her daughter to put away her toys; not today. She saw Max walk over to the little window and look out.
"Oh, there you are," she said, relieved. "Are you all right?"
"Terrific," Max replied sarcastically, and his voice was higher than usual owing to shrinkage of his throat muscles.
"How are you feeling?" 99 rephrased.
"If you must know I feel like Fay Wray," Max told her bitterly.
"Oh, Max," said 99 sympathetically, "try to take your mind off your size and cheer up."
"How can I take my mind off my size when I'm living in a doll's house?"
"Try to think of something else for a while."
"Like what?"
"Well, what would you like for lunch?"
"What would you suggest?" Max asked, becoming interested.
"How about shrimp salad?"
Max winced.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Max. I wasn't thinking."
"That's all right, 99. I don't feel much like eating anyway."
"But you've got to have something. We could send out for Chinese food. An order of short soup." 99 stopped suddenly. "I did it again. I'm sorry."
99 was prevented from further putting her foot in her mouth by a knock on the door. Still apologising profusely, she disappeared from Max's field of view and returned moments later carrying a large box. Max watched silently as she cut away the ribbon from the parcel and lifted the lid revealing . . .
"Flowers? I wonder who . . ." She picked up the enclosed card and read it. "Max . . . this card is from you."
"I know it, 99."
"Why did you send me flowers at a time like this?"
"Well, 99, I wanted you to have something to remember me by."
"But, Max, these flowers are just going to fade away."
"That's what you'll remember me by."
"Max! Don't you talk like that. Professor Walker will find an antidote in time. I'm sure he will."
Max shook his head. "Let's face it, 99. The forty-eight hours he gave me is almost up. If he doesn't come up with an antidote by this afternoon I'll disappear completely."
The telephone rang while 99 was trying to think of a cheerful answer. She walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver.
"Hello . . . Oh, hello, Chief . . . Now? . . . But, Chief, why does it have to be me? . . . What about Max? . . . All right, Chief, I understand . . . No, the twins are staying at my mothers' for a few days . . . She was glad to take them. She's been wanting to for months . . . All right, Chief, I'll be right there . . . Goodbye." 99 hung up.
"That was the Chief," she said.
"No kidding," Max replied. "I thought it was Simple Simon's pieman."
99 sighed. "The new leader of an Iron Curtain country is arriving in Washington today and the Chief wants me to meet him at the airport and escort him to Control."
"Now?"
"He said he was only just informed of it by the President. It's very important, Max. Our nation's security could depend on their talks."
"But why does it have to be you?"
"He said he wouldn't normally ask me at a time like this but I was the only agent he could contact at such short notice."
"What about me?"
"You'll be all right, Max. I'll be back as quickly as I can." When Max didn't reply she added, "It's my duty, Max."
"All right, 99, I understand."
99 frowned. She walked over to the closet, removed her coat and put it on. She walked back to the doll house.
"See you soon, Max."
"Right, 99."
"You won't be lonely?"
"If I am I can always get up a poker game with Ken and Barbie."
Max paced the hall, passing several plastic doors. He stopped outside the one which passed for the bathroom and went in. None of the plumbing was functional but he had set up a piece of a ruler by which he could measure his descent into oblivion.
He stood by the ruler briefly and turned around: four and a half inches.
Next to the ruler was a hand mirror from 99's purse. Max stood in front of it but he didn't need it to tell him that even the doll's clothes he was now wearing were becoming loose as he grew ever smaller.
Downcast, he left the bathroom, re-entering the hall. He walked to the staircase and proceded down it. Though made only of light plastic, the stairs easily supported his Liliputian mass.
Stepping into the living room, Max made his way to an easy chair and sat down. The chair was not so easy, however, being made of hard plastic and having a straight back. Not many dolls would have complained. He sat pensively for several minutes before becoming aware of a throaty rumble behind him. He turned around just in time to see a huge cat's paw strike at him through the window. He leaped from the chair, narrowly avoiding the extended claws which sent the chair flying across the room. He'd forgotten about that cat, a present from his mother-in-law. But it was unlikely that he would ever forget it again.
Max backed cautiously away from the window, forgetting about the window on the opposite wall. Inches way, he felt a breeze behind him. Whirling around, he saw the paw clawing at him again. As a reflex, he swatted the paw with his open hand and it retreated outside.
Determinedly keeping to the centre of the room, Max braced himself and waited for the next assault.
It wasn't long coming. Max struggled to maintain balance as he felt the whole house tremble. He could tell that the cat was now perched on the roof, causing it to rock from side to side. The doll house was not built to take such punishment and Max could already hear creaking sounds. Cracks started appearing in the walls.
Max made a command decision. Calmly weighing the alternatives, he decided he would be better off taking his chances in the open than being crushed inside the house. With the floor lurching under him like a ship in rough seas, he carefully made his way to the door, flung it open and ran outside screaming hysterically.
He was startled by the size of the real living room. In the doll house the degree of his shrinkage had not been so marked but now the contast was vivid. He had little time to think about it. The cat was standing on the doll house, its back arched. Suddenly it sprang down at him. As though he was a mouse, Max thought.
Max bolted. He was surprised and disoriented by the fact that he could not find his way around his own living room. Furniture and other objects loomed above him. The only thing readily identifiable was the hissing monster which chased him ever onward.
Ahead of him, Max saw what appeared to be a sturdy rubber rope, dangling down a sheer cliff-face from an apparent height of over thirty feet. He couldn't recall ever having seen such a thing in his apartment before, but he hoped that, by climbing it, he would gain at least a temporary respite from the cat which hounded him.
His commando training gave him the knowledge if not the ability for such a climb. He grasped the 'rope' and tested it. Then began inching his way up. After a climb long and hard enough to earn a merit badge and several bruises, he clambered over the edge and rested briefly. When he looked up he nearly fell back down in surprise. He had climbed up the telephone lead and the telephone itself loomed ahead of him. He had a sudden thought. If he could call the Chief, maybe he could get someone to come and rescue him from the cat. He walked across what he now realised was the sideboard. The receiver was about four times his own size. This was not going to be easy. He failed several times before, finally, summoning all his strength, he freed the receiver from its cradle and sent it plummeting over the edge of the sideboard. He didn't have a chance to try dialing before he heard a screeching behind him as the cat alighted on the telephone.
Max dived for the phone lead, discovered too late that it was the receiver cable, and swung round and round as he slid down its coiled length like a helter skelter.
He landed on the floor with a thud. Then stood shakily and staggered dizzily around. He barely had time to collect his senses before the cat was beside him and he was off and running again.
He stopped for breath behind the protection of a large black object, relatively the size of a car, which seemed to be permeated with a pungent odour. He peered cautiously over the edge. The cat was across the room, evidently sniffing out a false lead.
Curious, Max made his way around the black car-size object. It had a raised heel at one end and laces down the front. He nodded knowingly to himself. It was one of his own shoes; and the pungent odour he detected was none other than freshly applied shoe polish. Inside the shoe was a sock. With no obvious alternative and with the cat getting closer, he scrambled over the edge of the shoe and plunged into the softness of the sock. His nose wrinkled, sniffing. There was a worse odour inside than outside.
Meanwhile, the cat had padded silently up to the shoe and was sniffing around it. Inside, Max could not see the cat until it was directly above him as it looked into the shoe. Then it was only a quick glimpse of the ferocious face before the cat grasped the sock in its teeth and pulled it from the shoe sending Max flying through the air.
The room blurred by, totally disorienting him. Then it suddenly got dark and he hit something hard and stopped short.
Max couldn't know it but he was under the sofa and had fallen against a metal lever. A few feet away the roll-up rug activated, forming a long cylinder. The cat was clear of the area and was interested only in Max. Max stood up, counted no bones broken, and walked toward the light. The cat followed.
Looking behind him, Max quickened his pace and made for the roll-up rug, which he saw as a long tunnel. He hoped to throw the cat off the trail by walking through it. The opening was too small for the cat, so it waited at one end while Max walked through and emerged at the other. But this cat was not to be evaded so easily. It spotted the motion as Max exited the rug and bounded off after him.
Max started to run but the trip across the room in his reduced state was taking its toll. He slowed to a trot after only a few steps, tiring rapidly. Little wonder after the equivalent of miles' hiking. He was walking now, unable to go any faster, and the cat was gaining on him.
The cat seemed to sense Max's growing weakness. Now puffing violently, Max was unaware that the cat was herding him into a corner. Too late, he became aware of the walls hard behind him and the cat advancing in front. Too tired, he couldn't have gone any further if he tried. The cat's fur stood up on its back as it prepared to pounce.
99 turned her key in the lock and opened the door. Instantly, she became aware of Max's almost inaudible screams for help. She wheeled around, saw the cat, saw Max.
"Max!"
99 was across the room, had scooped up the cat and was back at the front door. She roughly bundled the cat outside and returned to Max, now recovering his breath.
"Max, are you all right?"
"Not so loud," said Max, holding his hands to his ears in pain.
"Are you all right?" 99 repeated in a whisper.
"Yes, 99, you came in just in time. Another minute and I would have been cat food."
Another few minutes and Max was cleaned up and safely re-installed in his doll house, still standing albeit the worse for the battle which had taken place there. Now shrunk to two inches, Max found climbing the stairs a struggle and even the doll-size furniture dwarfed him. Having outshrunk the doll clothes, he was now clad only in a strategically hung piece of the ribbon 99 had discarded earlier.
With things calm again, 99 approached the doll house. "There's some good news about the antidote," she whispered. "When I was down at Control they told me-"
There was a knock on the apartment door; to Max it sounded like rolling thunder.
99 answered it. "Chief. Professor Walker. Come in."
'Have you told Max that Professor Walker has the antidote?" the Chief asked without preamble.
"I was just about to," 99 replied. "Max, did you hear that?"
"How could I miss with you all shouting like that?" Max complained from the window of the doll house. The others had come close enough to hear him now and he took the opportunity to add, "You better make it snappy, Professor. The way I figure it I only have a few minutes left."
"Time is of the essence," Walker agreed, "but there are certain procedures which must be followed."
"Such as what?"
"Well, simply put, rather than being either injected or taken orally, my recent experiments indicate that, to be effective, an antidote must be absorbed through the skin, as was the original contaminant in the mist."
"That seems logical," Max admitted. "What do you want me to do? Take a bath in it?"
Professor Walker nodded. "Exactly."
"You're kidding."
"Not at all." Professor Walker turned to 99. "Would you get a bowl or some container that I can pour this jar of formula into. He won't absorb all of it, of course, but his pores will open sufficiently to accept enough to react with his system. And I've mixed it to super-strength so we should get an immediate result."
99 set the bowl down behind the bar to accomodate Max's modesty and Walker emptied the jar into it.
"I suggest you have a bathrobe ready," the Chief said. "That ribbon won't cover a grown man."
"Good idea." 99 collected Max's bathrobe upstairs and hung it over the bar. Then she collected Max and carefully carried him across the room and put him down behind the bar.
99, the Chief and Professor Walker stood together, holding their collective breath. They heard a tiny splash as Max dived into the bowl and a tiny "ouch" has he hit his head.
Then, miraculously, Max's head appeared above the bar. Then his head and torso, growing in size and stature before their eyes. Suddenly, Max stood there full size. He looked down, pained, as the bowl crumbled beneath his normal weight and normal-sized feet. He put on his robe and emerged from behind the bar smiling broadly.
99 beamed as she put her arms around her husband - something she had been unable to do for two whole days.
The Chief looked on approvingly. He didn't speak but the relief was etched on his face.
"Good work, Professor," Max said.
"I'm afraid I can't take the credit, Smart," Walker replied.
"Then where did the antidote come from?"
"Well," 99 answered, "it turns out that you were right all along."
"Of course I was right, 99 . . . Right about what?"
"There was a Kaos ship in the area that day. International Control intercepted it this morning just outside the twelve mile limit. They arrested six Kaos agents and recovered the formula for the antidote."
"That was a break."
"Yes. Apparently the shrinking gas was invented by one of their scientists and they were looking for guinea pigs to test it on," 99 continued. "They didn't know we were Control agents, though. That was just dumb luck."
Max's face hardened. "Well, they met their match with Maxwell Smart."
The End