Axlerod nodded modestly.
“Why Allinol? Why now?” Mel asked.
“Have you filled up your tank recently? It costs a fortune,” Sir Miles replied. “Pollution is getting worse. The world is sick of ‘big oil.’” Impassioned, Axlerod went on, “Alternative fuel is the future! And Allinol is the cleanest, safest, cheapest alternative fuel ever made.” Mel nodded approvingly as Axlerod continued. “Trust me, Mel. After seeing Allinol in action at the World Grand Prix, nobody will ever go back to gasoline again.”
Mel asked Miles why Lightning McQueen hadn’t been invited to be in the race.
“We did ask,” Axlerod replied. “But apparently he’s taking some time off to rest.”
At that moment, the Italian racing legend Francesco Bernoulli jumped into the conversation.
“Lightning McQueen would not have a chance against Francesco!” Francesco boasted.
Mater’s jaw dropped. He could not believe that this Italian racer was insulting Lightning on TV! Mater put down his tray and headed for the phone.
Lightning and Sally were still waiting for their drinks when Lightning thought he heard Mater’s voice on the TV in the background. Lightning didn’t know it yet, but Mater was Mel’s next caller.
“That I-talian fella you got on there can’t talk that way about Lightning McQueen!” Mater shouted over the phone. His voice was broadcast loudly over the television set. “He’s the bestest race car in the whole wide world.”
Francesco smugly replied, “If he is, as you say, ‘the bestest race car,’ then why must he rest?”
A crowd was forming at the bar now. Everyone listened as Mater said, “’Cause he knows what’s important! Every now and then he just prefers to slow down and enjoy life.”
“You heard it,” Francesco announced, gloating. “Lightning McQueen prefers to be slow. This is not news to Francesco. When I want to go to sleep, I watch one of his races. After two laps, I am out cold.”
The Radiator Springs crowd began to boo. Sally and Lightning moved from their table to see what the commotion was about.
“Lightning McQueen is afraid of Francesco!” Francesco said, smiling. “This is understandable.”
“Francesco Bernoulli,” Sally said, admiring the Italian race car. “No wonder there’s a crowd.”
“How do you know his name? And don’t say it like that: Francessssco,” Lightning said, pouting. “It’s three syllables, not ten!”
“What?” Sally said, still staring at the TV screen. “He’s nice to look at—open-wheeled and all.”
But Mater wasn’t done with Francesco yet. “Lightning could drive circles around you!”
“Mel, can we move on?” The arrogant Francesco rudely interrupted Mater. “Francesco needs a caller who can provide a little more intellectual stimulation. Like a dump truck.”
Now, that upset Lightning. The national racing champion headed to the phone.
“This is Lightning McQueen,” Lightning said over the phone. “Look, I don’t appreciate my best friend being insulted.”
“Lightning, that was your best friend?” Francesco laughed. “This is the difference between you and Francesco. Francesco knows he is superior to others. He does not need to surround himself with bumpkins to prove it.”
“Those are strong words from such a fragile car!” Lightning countered.
The conversation got more and more heated until Sir Miles Axlerod interrupted.
“This sounds like something that needs to be settled on the course,” Sir Miles said. “What do you say, Lightning? I’ve got room for one more racer.”
Lightning paused. He had let his pit crew go on vacation. He couldn’t race without them! Suddenly, he looked around the room. He had a pit crew right there: Fillmore, Sarge, Luigi, and Guido.
“Yeah,” Lightning announced to Axlerod and all the TV viewers around the world. “I’m in!”
Lightning turned to Sally. “I know,” he apologized. “But we won’t be long, and—”
“Don’t worry about me.” Sally stopped him gently. “But you’re bringing Mater, right?” Then she added, “Just let him sit in the pits, give him a headset—thrill of a lifetime for him.” She knew how much this would mean to Mater—and Lightning would need a good friend to support him in this big competition.
Lightning paused. Mater rolled over to them, bringing their drinks.
“How’d you like to come see the world with me?” Lightning asked Mater.
“Oh, yeah. They owe me a lot of vacation time,” Mater replied, then let out a shriek of joy. “I’m in!” he shouted.
Lightning’s new pit crew worked day and night to get him ready for the race. Ramone even gave him a new paint job with some special airbrushing. The finishing touch was a set of blinding new headlights. The World Grand Prix would not be run on traditional racetracks. The cars would race through city streets and countryside in Tokyo, Japan; Porto Corsa, Italy; and London, England. Lightning would need lights to race.
Of course, Guido and Luigi gave him new tires and packed several extra sets.
It wasn’t long before Mater, Lightning, and his Radiator Springs pit crew rolled onto an airplane. They were on their way to Japan. Tokyo was the first leg of the three-part World Grand Prix race.
Mater enjoyed the free snacks and videos on the plane, but they were nothing compared to the bright and colorful lights of Tokyo. As they left the Tokyo airport, Mater was amazed by the city. He wanted to see and do everything.
As soon as they arrived in the heart of the city, Team Lightning McQueen went to see kabuki theater and sumo wrestling. Mater even joined in the fun by wearing kabuki face paint.
Later, they attended an official prerace party hosted by Sir Miles Axlerod. Lightning McQueen rolled up on the red carpet as the media cars crowded around for pictures. Mater had never seen anything like it in his life.
The party was held in an ultramodern museum with a huge indoor waterfall. All the car-racing greats were there, including Francesco.
“Mater, I’m so glad you got me into this thing,” Lightning said as he spotted some of his racing friends.
“Me too, buddy!” Mater’s eyes grew wide as he looked around at the fancy party. “Hey, what’s that?” Mater started to drive away.
“No! Mater!” Lightning shouted too late. He was hoping desperately to keep his friend by his side. The rusty tow truck was not used to life outside Radiator Springs. He was bound to get into some sort of trouble.
But one of Lightning’s racing pals pulled him into a conversation as Mater wandered off. A minute later, as they were talking, Lightning realized that a number of partygoers were looking at Mater and giggling.
“Who brought that guy?” Jeff Gorvette, another American race car, asked Lightning.
Mater was looking at a very serious car raking a rock garden with absolute precision, an old Japanese tradition. But Mater thought he was trying to rake leaves!
“Hey!” Mater shouted. “You done good! You got all the leaves!”
Lightning quickly rolled up to Mater and pulled him aside.
“Listen,” Lightning whispered. “This isn’t Radiator Springs.” But Mater didn’t seem to understand that he was embarrassing himself and Lightning! “I’m saying things are different over here,” Lightning added. “Just help me out here, Mater.”
Mater lit up like a bulb. “You need help? Shoot! Why didn’t you say so? That’s what a tow truck does.”
They were suddenly distracted by the sound of laughter across the room. Francesco Bernoulli was shamelessly flirting with some of the ladies.
“Hey, looky there,” Mater said, glancing over at Francesco. “It’s Mr. San Francisco!”
“Mater, wait!” Lightning said, but Mater drove off.
“Look at me!” Mater exclaimed. “I’m helping already!”
Lightning quickly followed Mater, hoping to bring him back. But it was too late. Mater had reached Francesco and begun the introductions.
“Hey, Mr. San Fr
ancisco,” Mater said, addressing Francesco, “I’d like you to meet—”
“Lightning McQueen!” Francesco replied, looking Lightning up and down. “Buona sera!”
“Excuse me,” Mater said, interrupting Francesco. “Can I get a picture with you? Miss Sally’s gonna flip when she sees this. She’s Lightning McQueen’s girlfriend. She’s a big fan of yours.”
Francesco shrugged. “She has good taste.”
Lightning tried to smile. “Mater’s prone to exaggeration. I wouldn’t say she’s a big fan.”
“You’re right.” Mater nodded. “She’s a huge fan.”
“Francesco is familiar with this reaction to Francesco.” The Italian race car smiled, then added, “I dedicate my win tomorrow to Miss Sally.”
“Oh, sorry,” Lightning replied. “I already dedicated my win tomorrow to her. So if we both do it, it’s not really that special.” Then, noticing Mater driving off toward more trouble, he added, “See you at the race!”
Francesco smiled. “Yes, you will see Francesco. But not like this,” he said, gesturing smugly to his handsome face. Francesco turned and showed Lightning his rear bumper. It had a license plate that read CIAO, LIGHTNING MCQUEEN!
“That’s cute,” Lightning said. “You had one of those made up for all the racers?”
“No,” Francesco said simply.
Lightning tried to shrug off his bad feeling as he rolled away. Francesco was making this race personal!
Meanwhile, as Sir Miles Axlerod told the media about the wonders of his new fuel, Allinol, a bank of cameras recorded every word. Several of the cameras displayed the letters WGP—just like the camera Professor Z had unwrapped on the oil derrick.
And, unobserved, Finn McMissile was checking them all out.
Hidden from the party guests, Finn McMissile was secretly running the image of every one of those WGP cameras through his computer. So far, each one had been rejected as NOT A MATCH with the camera from the oil derrick.
From out of the crowd, a gorgeous sports car parked herself next to Finn and swiftly eyed her surroundings. Then she leaned in and whispered the secret code, “A Volkswagen Karmann Ghia has no radiator.”
Finn barely moved as he whispered the coded reply, “That’s because it’s air-cooled.”
The two spies had been given the coded prompt and reply so that they could identify each other at this party. Now they moved swiftly into their hushed introductions.
“I’m Agent Shiftwell. Holley Shiftwell from the Tokyo station,” she said. “I have a message from London.” Holley was a recent graduate of the secret- agent academy, brand-new to the world of espionage. Not a field agent like Finn, she did diagnostics work, examining and interpreting data.
“Not here,” Finn whispered as he led Holley to a glass elevator. When the doors closed, he spoke more freely. “So the lab boys analyzed the photos I sent? What did they learn about that camera?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, I’m afraid,” Agent Shiftwell replied brusquely. “They said perhaps you could get closer pictures next time?”
Finn bristled. “A good spy gets what he can, then gets out before he’s killed.”
The younger agent looked flustered. “Yes, sir. Of course.” Then she added, “There’s an American agent who’s been under deep cover on that oil platform. He was able to get a photo of the car who’s running the entire operation.”
“This could solve everything,” Finn muttered.
“The American is here tonight to pass the photo to you,” Holley added. “He’ll signal you when he’s ready.”
Ding! The elevator doors swung open.
Finn was pleased with Holley’s news. “Whoever’s in that photo is up to something big,” he commented quietly. “He has hundreds of hooligans working for him, including Professor Z.”
Holley, too, knew of Professor Z: “One of the most dangerous weapons designers in the world,” she whispered. Then she added, “There’s one other thing before I go: The oil field itself? It turns out it’s the largest oil reserve in the world.”
Finn pondered that for a moment. “This is bigger than I—” He stopped abruptly as he saw two Gremlins and a Pacer moving through the crowd—Professor Z’s cars! Finn immediately recognized them from the oil derrick. He ducked behind a large Japanese ceremonial helmet. He knew that now he’d never be able to make contact with the American agent without being recognized.
“What is it?” Holley asked him.
“New plan,” Finn told her swiftly. “You’re meeting the American.”
Mater continued to roll happily through the party. He really was beginning to feel at home in his glamorous new surroundings.
Wandering up to a sushi bar, he stared eagerly at the feast before him.
“Lightning’s probably starving,” he said to himself thoughtfully. Then he asked the chef, “Hey, you got anything that’s free?”
Mater noticed the fiery-hot green wasabi. “What about that pistachio ice cream?”
“No, no, wasabi,” the chef said, correcting him.
But Mater didn’t understand. He still thought it was ice cream!
He pointed to the spicy green wasabi again. “That looks delicious. I should probably sample some myself just to be sure.”
The chef nodded and put a small dab of wasabi aside for Mater. “Uh, a little more, please,” Mater asked. The sushi chef ’s eyes widened as Mater asked for more and more.
“My condolences,” the sushi chef said in Japanese when Mater finally drove off into the crowd with a huge glob of the hot green sauce.
As the party guests enjoyed their refreshments, Sir Miles Axlerod introduced Number 95, Lightning McQueen. The room erupted in cheers.
“You and your team bring excellence and professionalism to the competition,” Sir Miles was saying, when he was silenced by a piercing scream. It was Mater, driving in circles, eyes bloodshot red.
Mater peeled off toward the waterfall behind Lightning and Axlerod—and dove into the fountain.
“Sweet relief!” the tow truck howled as the water cooled his burning grille.
Sir Miles Axlerod was shocked. Lightning cringed. He could see that Mater was making a spectacle of himself. Other cars were laughing.
“Whatever you do, do not eat the free pistachio ice cream! It has turned!” Mater shouted. He was still splashing in the water and gasping for air. That hot green wasabi felt worse than an overheated radiator! Lightning turned to Axlerod and tried to apologize. “I can explain, Sir Miles,” he said as he introduced Mater. “He’s, uh, just a little excited.”
“I can see that,” Axlerod said, looking down at the floor between them.
Lightning looked down, too, and saw a puddle of oil. Mater had leaked!
“Mater!” Lightning whispered as he pulled him aside. “You have got to get ahold of yourself. You’re making a scene!”
Mater was confused and embarrassed. “But I never leak oil,” he told Lightning honestly.
Lightning just shook his head. “Go take care of yourself right now!”
Mater rushed through the crowd. “Comin’ through,” he said. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Poor Mater found his way to the bathrooms, but the signs above the doors were in Japanese. Mater knew he had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. He made his choice and rolled in. Two seconds later he zipped out with the sound of high-pitched shrieking behind him.
“Sorry, ladies!” Mater called back.
Mater entered the ultramodern men’s room. He rolled into an open stall and was very impressed. It was equipped with a fancy lift and a flat-screen monitor.
Mater pushed a few buttons. Lights began flashing. The little stall seemed to come alive with moving gadgets, and the monitor lit up.
“Welcome to the bathroom!” a little cartoon character giggled. Mater wasn’t sure if he should hide. The character was a girl!
Now, this was something Mater had never experienced! The lift began to rise under him as the little chara
cter said, “Please sit quietly and let us do the work for you.”
A tiny spurt of water tickled him. Mater giggled.
Then Mater screamed! The water flow had increased, shooting up into his undercarriage. The water was freezing! Gadgets from every direction began poking and prodding him. Mater desperately pressed knobs and buttons, adjusting water velocity, temperature, and brushes. A lot of things were working, all right, but none of them was doing what Mater wanted! He just wanted to leave!
Outside Mater’s stall, Rod Redline, the American agent, was getting ready to pass off the information he had for Finn. He removed his disguise and looked at himself in the mirror.
“Okay, McMissile,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m here. It’s time to make the drop.”
Swiftly, Rod sent out a coded signal to Finn.
Immediately Holley picked it up. “The American has activated his tracking beacon,” she radioed Finn, waiting for further instructions from him.
“Roger that,” Finn replied. Then the seasoned British agent told Holley, “Okay, move in.”
As Holley rolled toward the men’s room, Mater slammed buttons and thrashed about, struggling to get out of the stall.
Just outside, Grem and Acer had discovered Rod. The American agent had been cornered and barely stood a chance against Professor Z’s two thugs. They fought as Mater thrashed around inside the stall.
Finally, Mater crashed through the stall door, smashing into the thugs.
Mater had no idea that he had just interrupted a brawl. Rod was already pretty badly beaten. Professor Z’s two cars were determined to recover his top-secret information.
Huffing and puffing, Mater stared at Grem and Acer. He towed cars like these all the time back home in Radiator Springs!
“Hey! A Gremlin and a Pacer! No offense to your makes and models, but you guys break down harder than—” Mater stopped short. He felt a tickle as Rod slipped a small device into his undercarriage.
“What the…?” Mater said as he turned and saw Rod for the first time. “Whoa. You okay?” Mater asked the battered American agent.
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