Canyon Chaos (5 page)

It’s me!
Jimmy thought.

From somewhere in the background he could hear Lord Leadpipe continuing, “And that’s the end of the qualifying rounds. Thank you all for watching, racing fans. Tune in next time to see how our six contestants get on during the first round of this special edition of the Robot Races Championship. Bye for now.” And with a wink to the camera through his monocle, the cheery face of Lord Leadpipe disappeared.

“Woo-hoo!” yelled Grandpa.

“You did it!” cheered Max.

I must be dreaming
, Jimmy thought.
I can’t really have qualified for the Robot Races Championship, can I?

The next day, at exactly 8.57 a.m., Jimmy and Grandpa made their way outside as the sky above them darkened. Lord Leadpipe’s giant airship floated gently overhead, blocking out most of the sun and making it seem to Jimmy like it was still night time.

Cabbie drove out of the shed and parked himself in the garden. “How do I look, Jimmy?” he asked.

Jimmy squinted at his racer. Grandpa had smartened up Cabbie’s appearance and made him look much more like a professional robot racer, but there were still grey patches welded onto the old taxi chassis, and lumps and bumps hammered into the bonnet. Cabbie wouldn’t be winning a beauty contest any time soon.

“You look amazing,” said Jimmy, hoping that he sounded convincing.

Jimmy and Grandpa packed a suitcase of clothes and Grandpa’s toolbag safely into Cabbie’s boot before climbing into the front seats. Jimmy looked around Cabbie’s cockpit. There were even more buttons and levers and switches than he remembered. Grandpa had spent half the night underneath Cabbie, making modifications and saying all the time, “Things are only going to get tougher from here on in, my boy. So I want Cabbie to be prepared for any situation. Who knows what that scoundrel, Leadpipe, will have planned for you?”

Before Jimmy could investigate the dials and knobs any further, there was a
boom!
which shook the earth as a huge platform was lowered from the airship on thick, metal chains.

“Amazing!” said Jimmy.

“Incredible!” Cabbie added.

“Show-off,” Grandpa muttered under his breath.

The platform reached the ground and Jimmy drove Cabbie up onto it.

Grinding and creaking, the chains were winched up again and Jimmy peered over the edge of the platform as they rose higher and higher into the sky. The platform climbed above the trees, above the tops of the houses and kept on going until it was high into the clouds.

Grandpa had his eyes squeezed shut, and his skin had turned a nasty green colour, as though he might be sick at any moment. But for Jimmy, this was one of the most exciting moments of his life.

I can’t wait to tell Max about this. I’m actually going to get to see inside Lord Leadpipe’s private airship!

Finally they heard a loud
clunk
as the winch ground to a halt. Jimmy looked around at his new surroundings in amazement.

It wasn’t like any airship Jimmy had ever seen before. Usually, an airship or zeppelin had just a small box for passengers slung under a huge balloon filled with gas. But in Lord Leadpipe’s craft, the gigantic balloon was a completely solid structure – and it bustled with more activity than a shopping mall.

Everywhere Jimmy looked he could see people rushing around carrying equipment or shouting orders over the sound of engines firing. There were electronic signs pointing to places like the “Swimming Pool”, “Cinema” and “Restaurant”. And the room they had been lifted into was actually the most enormous workshop Jimmy had ever seen. It was bigger than a cathedral. Under brilliant white spotlights the mechanics and pit crews for each of the racers worked on their robots, sending showers of sparks and jets of steam and billows of smoke up to the roof. None of them even seemed to have noticed Jimmy, Grandpa and Cabbie make their entrance.

As they opened Cabbie’s doors and climbed out, Jimmy saw that the platform had lifted them directly into their own workstation, with shelves, cupboards and tool chests full to the brim with state-of-the-art gadgetry that made Grandpa’s battered old toolkit look prehistoric. But before he could say a word, Jimmy felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He spun round to see a tall man with huge eyebrows grinning at him. The man wore a dark blazer with a gold ‘L’ for Leadpipe on the breast pocket, a huge red cravat tucked under his pointed chin, and two tufts of cotton wool were poking out of his ears. Jimmy guessed this was to help block out the worst of the noise coming from the mechanics.

“Joshua Johnson,” said the tall man in a loud voice. “Robot Co-ordinator. I’m in charge of looking after the teams during the competition, so if you have any problems, you see me, OK?” He grinned at Jimmy and Grandpa, his eyebrows doing an excited little dance as he offered his hand.

Jimmy shook it.

“And you must be...” Joshua Johnson pulled a clipboard from somewhere behind his back and stared at it for a moment. “Jimmy Roberts. Delighted!”

“This is my grandfather,” said Jimmy, nodding at Grandpa. Joshua Johnson moved along to Grandpa and held out his hand.

“Joshua Johnson, Robot Co-ordinator,” said Joshua Johnson again. Grandpa shook his hand and grinned.

“And this must be Ca—” said Joshua Johnson, peering over Grandpa’s shoulder at Cabbie. “Oh,” he said. He checked his clipboard again and squinted at Cabbie like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Is he...? Is he
...
OK? I mean, has he had an accident? Will he be able to race?”

Jimmy felt his face going red. “Cabbie’s fine,” he said quietly.

“I’m more than fine,” Cabbie chipped in. “I’m great. Just wait until you see me race, Bushy-brows. I’ll show the rest of these robots a clean pair of tyres.”

Joshua Johnson looked a little flustered and he combed his giant eyebrows nervously with his fingers. “Right,” he stuttered, trying to look as dignified as possible. “Come and meet the other racers.”

He marched off towards a pit station where a group of ten or fifteen people stood, all dressed in black wearing black baseball hats, black trousers and black shirts. Each shirt had a streak of silver lightning zigzagging down the back.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” said Joshua Johnson, edging his way through the mechanics. Jimmy and Grandpa followed him.

The crowd suddenly parted, and there, at its centre, was a pale, skinny Japanese girl in silver motorcycle leathers. She stared at them with huge black eyes.

“Your Highness, may I introduce Jimmy Roberts and his grandfather from the United Kingdom?” said Joshua Johnson, bowing his head politely.

“Your Highness?” echoed Jimmy in surprise.

“Yes,” said Joshua Johnson. “This is Her Imperial Highness, Princess Kako of Japan.”

The girl bowed her head. Jimmy did the same.

“And this is Lightning,” the robot co-ordinator said, waving a hand at a large, powerful motorbike with a silver lightning bolt painted on the fuel tank.

Jimmy had never seen a motorbike like it. Lightning had spoilers and exhausts sprouting from every part of his body, and his huge, shiny engine looked like it could have been used to power a jumbo jet rather than a lightweight machine. Lightning flashed his headlight in acknowledgement, stretching the tip of one of his spoilers and flexing a pair of turbo jets positioned on each side of the back wheel. He reminded Jimmy of a panther, stretching after a short nap.

Joshua hurried Jimmy and Grandpa along to the next station where there was even more noise and activity than at the last. This,” said the co-ordinator, bowing and backing away, “is Missy McGovern and her racer, Monster, from Australia.”

Joshua Johnson led Jimmy and Grandpa to a huge monster truck where a short, stocky girl in oil-stained overalls was standing with her hands on her hips.

“What’s the point of your having self-regulating tyre pressure if I have to check it all the time, you useless lump?” she was shouting in a broad accent.

“Gives you something to do,” said a metallic female voice from the tiny cab perched on top of the enormous chassis. “Stops you getting bored,” it added.

Jimmy had seen pictures of monster trucks before, but standing up close to one for the first time made him realize just how enormous they were. Monster was at least four times as high as Cabbie and three times as wide. It was impossible to see what kind of gadgetry Monster had from down here, but Jimmy knew that the mammoth wheels alone could crush most of the competition.

“Maybe I’ll send you to the scrappy and get a decent racer,” continued Missy, kicking a huge tyre affectionately.

“That hurt!” said the metallic voice.

“Good,” said Missy, stomping off towards her engineers, who all wore matching oil-stained overalls.

Joshua Johnson grinned with embarrassment. “I’m sure she’ll say hello later,” he said, “when she’s calmed down a little. And this,” he went on, hurrying away, “is our next competitor...”

He led Jimmy and Grandpa over to a boy of average height with short black hair. His face looked like it had been carved in stone. “This is Samir Bahur and his racer, Maximus,” said Joshua Johnson. “Samir, this is Jimmy Roberts from the United Kingdom.”

Samir stared with his cold grey eyes and gave Jimmy a short sharp nod of his head. “I prefer to be known as Sammy,” he said with a thick North African accent. Then, without another word, he turned away to Maximus, a futuristic hovercraft powered by two hoverblades.

His mechanics were scurrying around in khaki overalls, checking over every inch of the robot for problems. Barking orders at them was a broad-shouldered man with a thick, black beard who Jimmy vaguely recognized.

“That’s Samir’s father, Omar Bahur,” whispered Joshua Johnson quietly. “He’s a former Robot Races champion himself, and by far the scariest man I’ve ever met,” he added even more quietly, before hurrying away.

That’s where I know him from
, Jimmy thought to himself.
I’ve seen old videos on Max’s phone of Omar winning races.

“There is one more competitor we’ll be picking up on the way to the Grand Canyon,” explained Joshua Johnson over his shoulder as they walked. “And one other competitor for you to meet now. He’s from the UK too.” Jimmy and Grandpa followed Joshua Johnson towards a sleek, black, shiny robocar that looked worryingly familiar. Beside it, facing the other way, was a short, skinny boy with a big head. He was dressed all in shiny black leathers. The boy turned round and sneered a huge horse-teeth smile.

Jimmy stared in horror.

“Jimmy, this is—” said Joshua Johnson.

“Horace Pelly,” Jimmy gasped.

“I wondered when
you’d
turn up,” sneered Horace, looking at Jimmy as though he’d found him stuck to the bottom his shoe.

Jimmy said nothing.

“Pleased to see me?” said Horace.

Still Jimmy said nothing. His mouth seemed to have stopped working.

“These NASA people,” said Horace, nodding over his shoulder at a small group of men and women in blue overalls and peaked hats, “are amazing. They’ve worked wonders with Zoom since the qualifier. He’s faster, cleverer and better equipped. He’s got thirty-two more features than—”

“But—” Jimmy started.

“Why am I here?” asked Horace, his mouth breaking into that sneer again.

Jimmy nodded.

“That Swedish boy? Olaf something?” said Horace. “Turned out he wasn’t a Swedish boy at all – just a very short adult racing-car driver. He was disqualified. And I was the next fastest qualifier. So I suppose you could say—”

“Horace!” called a voice.

A tall, slim man marched up to them. He looked just like Horace, apart from the fact that his thick hair was jet black while his son’s hair was blond, and he had a long, thin moustache which sat just above his top lip like someone had glued a pipe cleaner under his nose. His hair was slicked back and he wore a smart, expensive-looking suit.

“Yes, Daddy?” said Horace.

“Stop yabbering at this boy, Horace,” said Mr Pelly, twiddling his moustache irritably between his finger and thumb. “Come with me. We must prepare for victory.”

“But you’re paying those NASA people to do that for us, aren’t you, Daddy?” whined Horace.

“Not winning the race,” laughed his father. “I mean, your victory
speech
. Remember: when you’re on the winner’s rostrum after each race, you must thank everyone who made your victory possible – but especially your beloved father, Hector Pelly. Oh, and you should probably say something about Mummy too, I suppose. Come along and we’ll practise it.”

And with that, Horace and his father marched off to a vast, silver motorhome parked behind Zoom. The door slid open automatically, and the Pellys disappeared inside.

“Disqualified!” exploded Grandpa in disgust when they’d gone. “There’s something funny going on here.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jimmy.

“If that boy got in the finals fair and square, Jimmy lad,” hissed Grandpa angrily, “then I’m a milkmaid!”

“You mean—?”

“I mean,” said Grandpa, “that his father has paid someone a lot of money to get him in this race – and it’s probably something to do with that no-good, double-dealing, cheating snake, Ludwick Lead—”

“Ssshhh!” hissed Jimmy. “Lord Leadpipe’s probably on the airship. He’ll hear you!”

But there was no need for Grandpa to hush. A voice boomed out of the loudspeakers above their heads and silenced everyone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” it announced, “we have one more competitor joining us, and then we’ll be landing at the Grand Canyon racetrack within one hour.”

Everyone cheered.

“Well,” said Grandpa, “that was quick! Six thousand miles at hyperspeed, and not a whisper of turbulence!”

“Are you impressed with Lord Leadpipe’s airship?” asked Jimmy.

“No,” replied Grandpa quickly.

Jimmy smiled.

A few seconds later, there was a terrific grinding and whirring noise and the platform on which Cabbie and Jimmy had been lifted up to the airship was lowered down to the ground again. It soon returned with the huge yellow digger that Jimmy had seen on TV just a couple of days before. Five or six mechanics in yellow overalls were now perched on the beefy caterpillar tracks Dug used instead of normal wheels. From its driver’s cab a boy waved cheerfully.

“Hi! You’re Jimmy!” he yelled in a broad American accent. “I saw your picture in the papers. I’m Chip Travers. How are you doing?”

“Fine, thank you!” replied Jimmy cheerfully.

“This here’s my pa,” called Chip, pointing at the man sitting next to him. “And this,” said Chip, patting the digger’s dashboard, “is Dug. Say hi to Jimmy, Dug!”

Dug swivelled his digging arm round to Jimmy. He jumped backwards as it swung at him.

Chip laughed. “He don’t bite!” he called.

Jimmy edged forward and held out his hand. Ever so gently, Dug grabbed Jimmy’s hand in his giant arm and shook it up and down.

“See?” called Chip, jumping down from his cab and shaking first Jimmy’s and then Grandpa’s hand.

* * *

Jimmy felt like he was in a daze. Just twenty-four hours before, he’d been a nobody. But now he’d done interviews with newspaper reporters, signed autographs, stood for millions of photos and hitched a ride on Lord Leadpipe’s airship with the best robot racers in the world.

Jimmy looked over at Grandpa, who was making a few last-minute improvements to Cabbie. “Right. That’s all the rocket-boosters supercharged and tightened.” Grandpa grinned. “Now, what’s next?”

Just at that moment a voice chimed in over the loudspeaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you move to the viewing area, you will see the Grand Canyon and the race circuit where we will soon be landing.”

There was a rush to the row of windows on the far side of the airship. Jimmy and Grandpa managed to squeeze in between Chip Travers’ dad and one of Sammy’s mechanics to get a view over the Grand Canyon and the new racetrack that had been created by the secretive race-builders. They all gasped.

“I’ve been to the Grand Canyon more times than I care to remember,” said Chip’s dad, “but I’ve never seen it from up here. Wow!”

Looking down from the airship, the Canyon was like a huge crack in the dusty red desert, shelves of red rock shimmering in the heat of the afternoon sun. There were no smooth roads to drive on, or soft tyre walls to protect the racers from getting damaged. There were just sheer cliffs and solid rock walls, steep hills to climb and slippery slopes to tackle on a racetrack which wound down, through and round the famous landmark.

Everyone aboard the airship stared in silence as the ground came nearer and the Canyon grew larger in the window.

A few minutes later, Jimmy, Grandpa, Cabbie and all the others were safely on the ground. As they made their way to the start line they could see thousands of fans making their way up to the grandstands dotted around the circuit. They scrambled over the Grand Canyon like ants over a fallen tree, all dressed in brightly-coloured clothes. Some were carrying banners and flags – Jimmy even saw a few Union Jacks waving in the breeze and his heart skipped a beat as he thought of all the people who would be cheering him on both here and back at home.

Above them camerabots and safetybots hovered, darting among the vast display boards that floated over the racetrack. Some of the boards were counting down the last few minutes to the start of the race while others showed a video of the racecourse layout. An announcer was explaining the different challenges that the drivers would face, but Jimmy couldn’t understand a word that was being said. His mind had gone fuzzy and as he looked along the line of racers he suddenly he felt very cold and very sweaty.

Come on, Jimmy. Pull yourself together
, he told himself.

Once the racers were positioned on the grid, the mechanics swarmed over their vehicles once more to perform final checks while the competitors prepared themselves for the race. Horace Pelly came over, sneering his usual sneer, but now dressed in a specially-made white racing outfit with a red stripe down the arms and legs.

Jimmy looked down at his own racing outfit: jeans, a T-shirt and a battered helmet that was probably decades old. He swallowed hard.

“I see you’re admiring my outfit,” sneered Horace. “My dad had it invented specially. It’s lightweight, titanium-lined Cryothonix™. Fireproof and crashproof. My dad says I’m too precious to risk anything less. You’re going with those tatty jeans and grubby T-shirt, I suppose?”

“Well, I’m not planning on crashing or catching fire,” muttered Jimmy. He hated how Horace always made him feel. He might have beaten him in the qualifiers, but Horace still treated him like a joke.

“And what modifications have you made to
...
to...”

“Cabbie?” said Jimmy.

“Yes, that old rust-bucket of yours,” said Horace. “It’s a tough terrain here. I hope you’ve prepared him for it. My NASA engineers—”

Jimmy turned away and tried to stop listening, but he couldn’t help noticing that all of the other drivers were wearing custom-made racing outfits too. Jimmy looked more like he was going for a stroll in the park.

“Anyway,” said Horace, interrupting Jimmy’s thoughts, “I’ve wasted enough time talking to you. I must go and be interviewed by the press.” Horace strode over to a group of reporters. Cameras started flashing as he posed and grinned.

Jimmy climbed into Cabbie’s driver’s seat and strapped himself in, before looking nervously at the expensive robot racers around him.

Zoom’s black paintwork shone in the sunshine.

Dug reached out his huge hydraulic arm to high-five people in the crowd.

Towering above the others, Monster was blowing exhaust fumes high into the air.

Maximus the hover-bot revved his fan engines menacingly.

And right next to Jimmy and Cabbie was Princess Kako aboard her robocycle, Lightning, practising some moves. Lightning transformed at top speed from motorbike to robo-rocket and back to motorbike again.

Jimmy noticed that all of the other racers had the names of sponsors splashed across their sides. Zoom and Horace were supported by
Gleam Toothpaste – For a Winning Smile!
Lightning had the words
Tokyo.Pro.Robo.Co – by Royal Appointment
printed on his mudguards. Chip and Dug were sponsored by
Luke’s Lasers – the Brightest and Best
. The words
Cairo Construction
were splashed on the roof of Maximus; and Missy and Monster sported the title
Robotron Rocket Boots – Footwear that Flies!

Grandpa had phoned Total Taxis to see if they wanted to sponsor Cabbie. They had said they would think about it and call Grandpa back – but they hadn’t.

What am I doing here?
Jimmy thought.
I haven’t got a hope of winning this race.

“All right, my boy?” said Grandpa, appearing from underneath Cabbie, where he had been making some final adjustments.

Jimmy stared sadly at the other racers.

“All right, Jimmy lad?” repeated Grandpa, louder this time.

“Yeah, fine,” Jimmy replied quietly.

“They might look better than Cabbie,” said Grandpa softly, “but they haven’t got you at the wheel, my boy. Don’t tell him I said this,” Grandpa whispered, “but I know Cabbie’s not the best-looking racer.”

“I heard that,” Cabbie said indignantly.

“But looks aren’t everything, though.” Grandpa continued, grinning so much that his moustache wobbled. “You wait till you’re out there on the track. You’ll see.”

Jimmy nodded. He hoped Grandpa was right.

“Right!” said Grandpa patted Cabbie’s bonnet. “I’m off to the first pit stop to get myself ready. I’ll see you there!”

Jimmy watched Grandpa disappear into the crowd.

“Racers!” boomed a voice from the loudspeakers. “Take your positions!”