he will remove his foot from the accelerator.”
“I see. And that will stop the truck. But how will that help Professor von BOOM, Max?”
“After hitting the badge,” Max continued, “the bullet will veer off and strike that metal foot-scraper at the bottom of the post office steps. Once again, it will ricochet. It will then pass through the right wrist of the KAOS agent on the left, making him drop his gun, and then through the fleshy calf of the right leg of the KAOS agent on the right, forcing him to fall, and, in the tumble, drop his gun.”
“Max, that’s fabulous!” 99 enthused. “I can hardly believe it.”
“I’m not finished, 99.”
“Oh . . . sorry. What then, Max?”
“The bullet will strike the cement sidewalk and ricochet once more. It will hit that lamp post, then that U.S. Army recruiting sign, then the brass knob on the door of that shop on this side of the street. Meanwhile, the limousine will arrive. And at that juncture, the bullet will ricochet off that mail box, and then crash through the windshield of the limousine and hit the driver square between the eyes, thereby eliminating the last of the kidnappers and saving the life of Professor Wormser von BOOM—not to mention, as a bonus, ensuring victory for our glorious nation in the space race.”
“Max . . . you better shoot,” 99 warned. “That truck is almost on us!”
“Just a second, 99. I think the gun is jammed.”
“Max! Do something! Hurry!”
Max got down on his knees. “Maybe if I bang it on the cement,” he said. He rapped the butt of the gun against the street. There was the sound of a shot.
“Maybe we better get out of here,” Max said. “I think they’re shooting at us, 99.”
“Max, that was your gun! Look!”
The bullet from Max’s pistol hit the left front fender of the truck and ricocheted. It bounced off the post office building, returned, and smashed through a window of an antique shop, where it rang a set of Indian temple bells, then struck a tarnished tea kettle and ricocheted again. After emerging from the antique shop, the bullet hit, in rapid succession, the door handle of a passing automobile, a glass paperweight inside a box being carried by a department store delivery boy, a Coca Cola sign, Dick Tracy’s two-way radio wristwatch, a half-dollar being flipped by an old-timey motion picture actor, and the pure gold collar on a fat lady’s French poodle. Speeding merrily on its way, it then steered toward the antique shop once again.
Meanwhile, a crowd was gathering. And, fortunately, the mail truck that had been bearing down on Max and 99 had screeched to a halt. The KAOS agent at the wheel was leaning out the window, fascinated by the erratic progress of the bullet.
Max and 99 were watching, too. But they were becoming restless.
“Shouldn’t we go, Max?” 99 said. “We still have that packing to do.”
“All right, 99. I suppose there’s no real reason to stick around.”
“Oh, look, Max—there’s the limousine.”
“Mmmmm, yes. Nice looking car.”
The limousine had pulled up near where the two KAOS agents and Professor von BOOM were standing, following the antics of the bullet. The driver got out and approached them. The trio of KAOS men held a brief discussion, during which one of them pointed toward the antique shop, into which the bullet had disappeared. A moment later, the bullet emerged, and the third KAOS man joined the first two in observing it as it headed in the direction of the halted truck.
“Max . . .”
“All right, 99, let’s go.”
They crossed the street. The bullet hit the badge on the truck driver’s cap, knocking him unconscious, then ricocheted again, shooting straight upward.
Max and 99 reached the KAOS men and Professor von BOOM. They were shielding their eyes against the sun, watching the fastly disappearing bullet. Max got out a notepad and tore out three sheets of paper. On each one, he printed: “I am a KAOS agent. Take me to Control
Temple Grandin, Richard Panek