Race for Revenge

by Chase Wheeler

  “Oh, Speed, may I have the key to the trunk?” she asked.

  Speed tossed her the keys absentmindedly. Why are racing officials being attacked? he wondered. And what does X-3 stand for?

  After stowing the picnic lunch in the trunk, Trixie got into the Mach 5, smoothing her skirt over her knees.

  “We start in five seconds,” she said, laughingly. She could tell that Speed was distracted, but she knew how to get his attention.

  “All drivers get behind their wheels,” she said, trying to sound like a racing announcer.

  Speed laughed and jumped into the Mach 5 beside her. “Didn’t take me long when you said it like that, did it, Trixie?” he said, laughing. He loved Trixie’s humor. Now he was looking forward to their day together.

  Just then, a police squad car pulled up beside the Mach 5. It was Inspector Detector. He got out of the squad car, waving his hands excitedly. His black beard was blowing in the breeze like a flag.

  “Oh, Speed,” he said. “Don’t go yet. I’ve got to ask you to do the police department a favor!”

  Trixie groaned. A frown settled on her pretty features.

  “We need you to help us in the investigation of that mysterious race car that is causing all the accidents,” said Inspector Detector.

  Speed was all ears.

  “As you know, that car is amazingly fast,” Inspector Detector said. “And frankly, our squad cars can’t catch up with it.”

  “You’ve spotted it, then?” Speed asked.

  Inspector Detector was just about to answer when Trixie spoke up.

  “I’m sorry, Inspector,” she said in a sweet but stern voice. “But Speed already has a very important appointment today.”

  Speed didn’t want to disappoint his girlfriend, but he knew he had to help Inspector Detector.

  “We can go for our drive in the country next week, Trixie. Okay?”

  Trixie didn’t answer. She folded her arms and pouted.

  “Will you help us, Speed?” Inspector Detector pleaded.

  “A fine police department we have,” said Trixie, “when they have to ask for your help on the day we were going on a picnic! ”

  “Now, you know, Trixie, it’s our duty to help!” Speed was adamant. “We’ll go on the picnic next week instead.”

  “Humph!” Trixie said. “I spent all last night making a special lunch. What’s going to happen to that?”

  Suddenly a tiny voice was heard. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat it!

  They all looked around.

  Speed’s little brother, Spritle, was standing behind the Mach 5 with his pet chimpanzee, Chim Chim. They both wore identical red and white striped hats.

  “Chim Chim and I are ready to investigate the case, Inspector Detector!” said Spritle. “Do you see what Chim Chim is carrying?”

  The little chimp was wearing a backpack. He jumped up and down excitedly.

  “It looks to me like some kind of recorder,” said Speed. It had a microphone and a reel for tape.

  Spritle shook his head. “But it’s cleverly disguised,” he said, sounding disappointed that Speed could see what it was. “Doesn’t it look more like a camera?”

  It didn’t look at all like a camera to Speed. But he decided to play along with his little brother’s game.

  “You’re right. It looks like a camera,” he said.

  “What’s it for?” asked Trixie.

  “It’s to fool spies! ” said Spritle, growing more and more excited.

  Spies? thought Speed. “But if there are no spies in this case, what are you going to tape-record ?”

  “Hmmm,” said Spritle. He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Then maybe I’ll just record Chim Chim!”

  “Hoo-haa!” said Chim Chim, scratching his head, too.

  They all laughed, even Inspector Detector. Speed’s mischievous little brother was always good for a laugh.

  Just then, a stern voice broke into their laughter. It came from the police radio in Inspector Detector’s squad car:

  “The mysterious race car has been spotted! It’s traveling south on Highway 5 at 180 miles per hour and the police are unable to catch up to it!

  That was all Speed needed to hear.

  “I’ll go!” he said, strapping on his seat belt. He turned the key and the Mach 5’s mighty engine roared to life.

  “Thank you, Speed!” said Inspector Detector as he ran for his squad car.

  Trixie began to fasten her seat belt, but Speed stopped her with one hand.

  “I have to do this alone,” he said.

  “What about me?” Trixie asked. “Aren’t you going to take me?”

  “It’s too dangerous, Trixie,” said Speed. He reached across her and opened the car door. “Get out now, please! Hurry!”

  Trixie got out of the Mach 5 and watched as Speed Racer roared off to join the chase. She managed a tiny, feeble wave.

  No picnic! No ride in the country! This was what it was like to be Speed Racer’s girlfriend.

  Here she was, left behind again, with Speed’s little brother and his chimp.

  Then she looked around.

  She was alone. “What happened to Spritle and Chim Chim?” she said. “I wonder where they could be?”

  6

  RAILROAD CROSSING

  It was the car chase of the century!

  Four powerful police squad cars, their engines straining, were running at full speed, trying to catch the mysterious black race car.

  Their lights were flashing, alerting pedestrians to get out of the way. Their sirens were blasting, clearing the intersections ahead.

  But still, they were falling behind.

  The mysterious black race car was too powerful, too fast.

  Then a sleek white racer with an M on the front and a 5 on the side caught up with the police cars. Without slowing, it wove through their formation like a flash of lightning streaking through a cloud.

  It was Speed Racer in the Mach 5. The mighty engine purred powerfully. The tires were humming along. Speed felt the thrill of the chase as he gunned the Mach 5 through the slower squad cars, leaving them behind.

  As soon as he was in the open, he floored the gas pedal.

  The Mach 5 sprang ahead like a deer, and the chase was on.

  175, 180, 190 mph.

  The mysterious car spun up an expressway ramp toward the city center, heedless of the dangers involved.

  “Uh-oh!” cried Speed. “He’s going to kill somebody!” He sped up the ramp after him.

  In the city, people crossing the streets heard a menacing sound. They scattered as the black race car careened through the narrow streets, scattering pedestrians and cars alike.

  “I’ve got to stop him!” cried Speed as he followed close behind. “He has no respect for the lives of others!”

  Just then the black race car plowed through a farmers’ market in the center of town. Fruits and vegetables scattered as the stalls and stands were overturned.

  Luckily, no one had been hit. The black car sped off, and the people began picking up the mess.

  But Speed was right behind the X-3, also running wide open! He downshifted, trying to slow the Mach 5. He jammed on his brakes, but it was too late to stop. He was just about to plow into the crowd at the farmers’ market when he hit the button on his steering wheel that activated the auto jacks.

  The Mach 5 was lifted into the air and sailed over the curious crowd.

  “Close call,” muttered Speed as he hit the ground and renewed the chase.

  Speed was gaining on the X-3. He was only a block behind the car when it disappeared around a corner. Speed took the corner on two wheels, then braked to a sudden stop in the middle of a four-way intersection.

  Where had the black race car gone?

  Speed looked left, then right. He looked ahead. He even looked behind. The black race car was nowhere to be seen.

  The streets were empty in every direction.

  “Lost him!” Speed yelled.

  Then
he saw a flower shop on the corner. A beautiful young woman with honey-blond hair was arranging bouquets out front.

  Speed jumped out of the Mach 5 and went to ask her for help. Perhaps she had seen the car he was chasing.

  “Pardon me, miss,” said Speed. “But did you see a black race car pass by your shop?”

  She looked at him with soft dark eyes.

  “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see anything.”

  How could that be? Speed wondered. How could she have missed it? How often do race cars speed down the city streets?

  “That’s peculiar,” he said. “I wonder what could have happened to the car?”

  She ignored his question and went back to her task, arranging flowers.

  She’s almost as lovely as these flowers are, thought Speed. And every bit as mysterious!

  He went back to the Mach 5, which was parked in the middle of the intersection. Inspector Detector, who had been following at a distance, pulled up in his squad car.

  Speed pointed over his shoulder at the shop. “According to the girl in the flower shop, the race car we were chasing didn’t pass by here.”

  Inspector Detector pulled at his beard. “Strange,” he said. “It must have made a lot of noise.”

  “I only lost sight of it for a few seconds,” said Speed. “Somehow it disappeared, right here in this intersection.”

  They both looked to the right and the left. Empty streets in all directions, and no sign of the mysterious black race car.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve let you down again, Inspector Detector,” said Speed. “I let that car get away from me.”

  Inspector Detector clapped him on the shoulder and managed a smile.

  “It’s all right, Speed,” he said. “I’ve ordered roadblocks, so pretty soon someone should report seeing it again.”

  “I sure hope so,” said Speed. He was anxious to get back in the chase. Just then, he heard the two-way radio on the Mach 5:

  “Calling Speed Racer in the Mach 5. Speed! Calling Speed Racer in the Mach 5!”

  “That’s Trixie calling,” he cried as he ran toward the car.

  “Calling Speed!” Trixie’s voice on the radio sounded far away. “The mysterious race car just passed the intersection three blocks north of your present location.”

  Where is she? How does she know? Speed wondered.

  Then he heard the familiar sound of a helicopter overhead. Trixie had been following him in her personal helicopter! Unlike most girls her age, she was an excellent helicopter pilot.

  Speed waved back, and then picked up the mike for the two-way radio. “This is the Mach 5, Trixie! Thanks for spotting him!”

  Trixie laughed. “I’ve got to help,” she said. “Because if you don’t catch him, we won’t be able to go on our picnic next week, either.”

  “Roger that,” said Speed. “I’m after him!” He turned the key and the Mach 5’s engine roared to life.

  “By the way,” asked Trixie, trying not to sound jealous, “who was that girl I saw you talking to?”

  But Speed didn’t hear her question. He was already on his way, and the roar of the engine drowned her out.

  It also drowned out the sounds of Spritle and Chim Chim hiding in the trunk. They were laughing and chattering as they enjoyed the picnic lunch Trixie had made!

  Speed Racer got to the intersection just in time to see the mysterious race car speeding out of town on a narrow country road.

  He downshifted and followed at 180 mph. It took all his skill to stay on the road. The car he was chasing was amazingly fast!

  Ahead, Speed saw a railroad crossing. The lights were flashing and the bar was coming down. A train was approaching!

  “Good! He’ll have to stop,” said Speed. “Now I’ve got him!”

  But instead of stopping, the mysterious race car kept going. It sped through the railroad crossing, just in front of the train, just under the lowering crossbar.

  But the bar caught the driver and yanked him out of the driver’s seat. Amazingly, the car kept going with no driver.

  Speed slammed on his brakes and the Mach 5 skidded to a stop. He jumped out and ran to the lowered crossbar to see if the driver was all right. The driver was hanging on it like a rag doll.

  “Gotcha!” said Speed, grabbing him and pulling him back. He could hardly wait to look his adversary in the eye!

  But when he turned the driver’s head, all he saw was a metal mask with two holes for eyes and a grinning slot for a mouth.

  “The Mélange still ...” it whispered.

  Its final words were lost in the roar of the passing train.

  Then the eyes blinked out, and all was silent.

  7

  LET ʼEM EAT CAKE!

  As the Mach 5 pulled into the garage at police headquarters, Trixie was landing her helicopter on the roof. She joined Speed and helped him carry the mystery race car’s “driver” into Inspector Detector’s office.

  They laid it on a table and looked at it in amazement.

  “It’s a robot!” said Inspector Detector. “This means that the black race car was being operated by remote control!”

  “I’m sorry, Inspector,” said Speed, “that the black race car was able to get away from me!”

  “You did a good job, anyway, Speed, in bringing back this robot. By analyzing the robot’s mechanisms, we’ll be able to learn something about whoever made it.”

  He pulled at his beard thoughtfully as he examined the robot. Speed and Trixie looked on. The robot’s neck was made of springs and the hands were just metal claws.

  The mouth was just a slot in the shape of an evil grin.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” said Speed. “The robot said something!”

  “It did?” Inspector Detector looked hopeful. “What did it say?”

  Speed shook his head. “The train made so much noise as it was going by that I wasn’t able to make it out.”

  A small voice broke in. “I tape-recorded what it said!”

  Trixie and Speed both looked down. “Spritle!”

  The mischievous little boy and his chimp climbed out from under Inspector Detector’s desk. Both were wearing silly grins.

  “I got it all!” said Spritle, patting the machine Chim Chim was holding. “I recorded the whole thing!”

  “You were hiding in the Mach 5 again!” said Trixie. She glared at him. Speed’s little brother was cute, but he could be annoying, too.

  “Right! ” said Spritle.

  “Hoo-haa,” agreed Chim Chim.

  “Oh, Spritle, you might have been hurt!” said Trixie, placing her hands on her hips to show that she was serious.

  “Well, I got a tape recording!”

  “And I suppose you ate our picnic lunch, too,” said Speed.

  Spritle nodded. Chim Chim nodded, too.

  Trixie shook her head disapprovingly. “Then give the tape recording to Inspector Detector so he can hear it,” she said.

  She reached for the recorder.

  “Uh-oh! Not so fast,” said Spritle, jumping in front of Chim Chim. “Will you give us some cake if we let you listen to it?”

  “You’ll get cake later,” Inspector Detector said sternly. He’d had enough of Spritle’s nonsense. “Let me listen to that recording right now!”

  “What about our cake?” demanded Spritle.

  “As soon as this case is solved, I’ll buy you a seven-layer chocolate cake,” said Inspector Detector.

  Spritle grabbed the tape recorder and handed it to Inspector Detector. “Here!”

  It was a deal! They laughed at the mischievous pair. Boys and chimps want to have fun.

  But it was time to get serious.

  Inspector Detector set the recorder on his desk and pressed PLAY. Silence fell over the room as they listened to the spooky voice:

  “The Mélange still ...”

  Inspector Detector rewound it and played it again.

  “The Mélange still ... the Mélange still ...”

/>   Inspector Detector turned off the tape recorder, looking puzzled. He pulled at his black beard thoughtfully.

  “Mélange? What’s Mélange? Does anyone know what that means?”

  “Hmmm!” It did sound familiar to Speed. He searched his memory. Then he said, “Mélange is the name of a famous horse!”

  “What? A horse? A race horse?”

  “Not exactly, Inspector,” said Speed. “I read all about Mélange when I was studying history. I remember that Napoleon had a horse by that name. It was a great horse and once it saved Napoleon’s life.”

  Trixie looked at her boyfriend admiringly. He was not only a great race driver, he was good at history, too!

  But Inspector Detector was not so impressed.

  “Well, that’s very interesting, Speed, but what’s the connection? What does Napoleon’s horse have to do with this case?”

  “Yeah, tell us,” said Trixie. Even though she was proud of Speed’s historical knowledge, she was wondering the same thing.

  Speed Racer shrugged helplessly. “Beats me,” he said.

  Just then the door opened, and a deep voice said, “Maybe I can tell you!”

  8

  THE MYSTERIOUS MÉLANGE

  “Pops! ” said Speed.

  Pops Racer walked though Inspector Detector’s door. Pops had been a wrestler before he had started designing and building race cars. He still looked the part.

  “There was once another Mélange,” he said.

  “I’d like to hear about it, Mr. Racer,” said Inspector Detector.

  Pops nodded, and they all sat down to listen. Even Spritle and Chim Chim!

  “You all know the big race at Danger Pass is coming up,” said Pops. “Well, about fifteen years ago, another race was held at Danger Pass, over one of the most difficult race courses in the world. The same Mr. Black and Mr. Green who were recently wrecked by the mysterious black race car were coaching a race team that was expected to win. The Three Roses racing team.”

  “Hmmm,” said Inspector Detector, pulling at his beard.