Professor Z turned toward Grem and Acer. “The project is still on schedule,” he said. Then he ordered them to find Mater, the so-called second agent. Mater didn’t know it, but his life was in danger!
Professor Z turned the camera beam to its highest setting. In seconds, there was a fiery explosion and Rod Redline was no more.
The first race of the World Grand Prix was held in nighttime Tokyo. The excitement and glitter were almost overwhelming. The announcer, Brent Mustangburger, was calling the action, along with David Hobbscapp and Darrell Cartrip in the studio.
“Welcome to the inaugural running of the World Grand Prix!” Brent said into his microphone. “David, how exactly does this competition work?”
“Brent, all three courses start with classic straightaways. Look for Francesco Bernoulli in particular to lead early.”
“Whoa now, hold your horsepower! You’re forgetting the most important factor here: that early dirt-track section of the course!” Darrell interrupted his fellow announcer. “Don’t forget Lightning McQueen! His mentor, the Hudson Hornet, was one of the greatest dirt-track racers of all time! In my opinion, Lightning’s the best all-round racer in this competition.”
“Well, it’s time to find out,” Brent Mustangburger said, putting an end to the friendly banter. “The racers are locking into the grid!”
Down at the starting line, Lightning was in position, engine revving. His eyes shut tight as he focused mentally on the race.
“Speed. I. Am. Speed,” Lightning whispered.
“You are speed?” Francesco interrupted. “Then Francesco must be triple speed.”
Lightning opened his eyes at the irritating sound of Francesco’s cocky voice. The flashy racer was lined up right next to Lightning.
“Francesco likes this, Lightning,” Francesco continued. “It’s really getting him in the zone.”
“He is so getting beat today,” Lightning muttered to himself, determined to win.
The starting lights clicked down from red to yellow to green. The race was on! Francesco sped out for a quick start, taking the lead.
“Hang on, boys!” Brent Mustangburger exclaimed.
Team Lightning McQueen was glued to the pit monitors—but no one more than Mater.
“Lightning!” Mater shouted into his headset as he saw the racers approach the dirt track. “Time to make your move. Get on the outside and show them what Doc done taught you.”
“Ten-four, Mater,” Lightning answered over his radio. He was glad to have his friend helping out.
Francesco, who was the first to hit the dirt section, suddenly skidded out of control and slammed to a stop. Lightning sped past him.
“Yeah! Nice call, Mater! Keep it up!” Lightning cried out, delighted to be in the lead.
Lightning picked up traction as he moved from the dirt section onto the city streets. The other racers passed Francesco as the pack made the final turns through the brightly lit downtown roads. They were quickly gaining on Lightning.
“As we head back through the city,” Brent Mustangburger observed, “there’s a whole lot of knockin’ at Lightning McQueen’s door.” Brent took a breath. “As they finish lap one, the racers are practically even again!”
The racers shot past a tower under the eyes of Agents Finn McMissile and Holley Shiftwell. They were looking for the American agent with the information on Professor Z. It was Holley who spotted him first—in the Team Lightning McQueen pit.
Holley watched Mater carefully through her high-tech telescopic display.
“Why is he in the pits?” she asked Finn in dismay. “He’s so exposed.”
“It’s his cover,” Finn answered. “One of the best I’ve ever seen, too. Look at the detail on his rust. Must have cost a fortune.”
Holley nodded. “Okay, then why hasn’t he contacted us yet?”
“There’s probably heat on him,” Finn answered calmly. “He’s clearly a seasoned veteran. He’ll reach out when he’s ready.”
Finn scanned the World Grand Prix cameras, still looking for the fake one he had spotted with Professor Z and his thugs on the oil derrick. Finn had no idea what Professor Z had just done to the real agent, Rod, by using that fake WGP camera. But Finn McMissile did have good instincts.
In the shadows on another rooftop, Grem and Acer were placing Professor Z’s camera in position.
“It is time,” the Professor told them over a radio. “Start small, please.”
“Roger that,” Grem said as he angled the camera toward Miguel Camino. As soon as the radiation beam hit him, Miguel’s engine began smoking.