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

right here, right beside the machine,” The Professor ordered.
    Max obeyed.
    “The way those featherheads at R & D had this worked out,” The Professor said to the group, “whenever a question was asked, and a lie was answered, a little light went on and a bell rang. Obviously, it was undependable that way. What do lights and bells know about truth? As modified, however, the machine is one-hundred per cent effective. I’ll prove it.” He faced back to Max. “I’ll ask you a question,” he said. “You can answer it with the truth or a lie, it won’t make any difference.”
    “Is there any other choice?” Max asked.
    “It still wouldn’t make any difference,” The Professor replied. “Now, here’s your first question. If there are fourteen apples in a dozen, and you bake twelve of the apples into a cherry pie, how long is a piece of string?”
    Max puzzled for a moment. “A long piece of string or a short piece of string?”
    “It doesn’t make any difference,” The Professor replied. “What is your answer?”
    “A peach pie,” Max replied.
    The instant he answered, a rubber hose popped from the machine and began beating him about the head and shoulders. Max leaped out of range, but not before he had been severely clubbed.
    “See? I told you it didn’t make any difference,” The Professor smiled. “Lying or telling the truth, that rubber hose beats the stuffing out of you. It’s fool-proof!”
    “It’s certainly more effective than lights and bells,” Max agreed.
    “Oh, you’re not convinced, eh?” The Professor said. “All right, we’ll try another question. Take your place beside the machine.”
    “I’m convinced,” Max protested.
    “You say that, but you don’t really mean it,” The Professor replied. “I can see it in your eyes. You doubt the value of my modification. In fact, pretending to be a Control agent, you think you can beat the machine. Don’t you?”
    Max smiled. “Well, I think we ought to realize that there are some very clever Control agents. I have one in particular in mind. You may have heard of him. Max Smart is his name. As I understand it, he is Control’s top agent, and, when it comes to brains, a whiz kid to boot.”
    “I accept that challenge,” The Professor said. “Make believe you are this Jack Sharp.”
    “Max Smart. M-a-x S-m-a-r-t.”
    Frank Sadwell stepped forward. “This freshman is correct, sir,” he said to The Professor. “Jack Sharp is Control’s top agent—according to the notation on the back of his ‘Wanted’ poster.”
    “Max Smart,” Max said.
    “Oh, you keep up on ‘Wanted’ posters, eh?” The Professor said approvingly. “Would you know this Sax Heart if you saw him?”
    “Max Smart,” Max said.
    “His image is etched in my brain,” Frank Sadwell replied. “I would recognize him anywhere, under any conditions.”
    “Very good,” The Professor smiled. “That’s the kind of students we need at KAOS.” He turned back to Max. “All right, we shall proceed. Stand beside the machine, and pretend that you are Max Smart.”
    “Jack Sharp,” Max corrected, stepping to the machine.
    “Here is your question,” The Professor said. “If beetles are bugs, and the Beatles are boys, how many boy beetles does it take to bug a Beatle boy until he boils?”
    Max smiled smugly. “My answer,” he replied, “is ‘yes and no.’ ”
    The machine chugged, clanked, then fell silent. The rubber hose did not appear.
    “Traitor!” The Professor shrieked at the machine.
    “I think it lost its cool,” Max smiled.
    The Professor snatched up the pistol, aimed at the machine, and fired. The boxing glove popped out of the barrel and struck the machine square between the dials. The machine chugged again. Then the rubber hose popped out and began beating Max about the head and shoulders.
    Max, stunned, dropped to the floor.
    “Max!” 99 cried, rushing to him.
    “Can’t beat old-fashioned dependability,” The Professor cackled.