Cars 2 (5 page)

I
t was like a bad dream for Lightning McQueen. Francesco Bernoulli was on the media stage, gloating about his victory.

“Francesco!” the adoring reporters cried. “What was your strategy today?”

“Francesco's strategy was very simple,” Francesco said as he smiled for the cameras. “Start the race. Wait for Lightning McQueen to choke. Pass him. Win. Francesco always wins. It's boring.”

Lightning was on a side stage, doing a slow burn. Then he spotted Mater. The dented tow truck was looking around, confused.

“Oh, hey, Lightning! What happened?” he asked. “Is the race over? You won, right?”

“Mater, why were you yelling those things at me while I was racing?” Lightning sputtered.

Mater shrugged. “Yelling? Oh, you thought I was talkin' to you? That's funny right there. No, see that's 'cause I saw these two fellers doing some kind of karate street performance! It was nutso. One of them even had a flamethrower!”

“A flamethrower!” Lightning exclaimed. “Mater, I don't understand. Where were you?”

“Going to meet my date,” Mater said, still not understanding what he'd done—until he saw the look on Lightning's face.

“I lost the race because of you!” Lightning shouted angrily at his friend. “This is exactly why I don't bring you along to these things!”

Mater was stunned. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Maybe if I—I dunno—talked to somebody and explained what happened, it could help.”

“I don't need your help!” Lightning snapped as the media began to pull him away for interviews. “I don't
want
your help!”

Mater was pushed backward as the reporters swarmed Lightning. He hovered for a few minutes while he listened to Lightning talking to them.

“I made a mistake,” Lightning said, “but I can assure you, it won't happen again in the next race.”

Mater was sure he was the mistake Lightning was talking about. He decided there was only one thing to do. He would go back to Radiator Springs and let Lightning race his own way. He didn't want to hurt his friend's chances of winning the next two races.

On Lightning's pit monitor, the postrace commentary continued.

“To recap,” Brent Mustangburger said, “Lightning McQueen loses in the last lap to Francesco Bernoulli. And three, count 'em, three cars flamed out, leading some to suggest that their fuel, Allinol, might be to blame.”

The cameras switched live to Sir Miles Axlerod. He was trying to defend his new fuel to the media.

“Allinol is safe!” he insisted.

The announcer, Darrell Cartrip, looked doubtful. “Well, the jury may still be out on whether Allinol caused these accidents, but one thing's for sure: Lightning McQueen blew this race.”

Mater saw the postrace show from a monitor at the Tokyo airport. Sadly, he headed toward the gates, knowing he'd let his best buddy down.

Mater never noticed Grem and Acer following him. A security guard suddenly approached Mater.

“Come with me, please, sir,” the security guard said, escorting Mater around a corner. “But I'm gonna miss my plane!” Mater protested. The security guard dropped his disguise. He was Finn McMissile. “Hey, I know you!” Mater said excitedly. “You're that fella from the karate demonstration!”

They entered a private lounge. “I never properly introduced myself,” Finn said. “Finn McMissile. British intelligence.”

Mater grinned. He didn't understand Finn's phrase. “Tow Mater,” he said. “Average intelligence.”

“Who are you with?” Finn asked. “FBI? CIA?”

“Let's just say I'm Triple-A-affiliated,” Mater said.

Finn eyed Mater for a moment. Then Mater took a karate stance. “Don't wanna brag or nothin', but I've got me a black fan belt. You wanna see some moves I made up?”

As Mater clumsily kicked and chopped at the air,

Finn noticed Grem and Acer right outside the lounge. “There he is!” Grem shouted, pointing at Mater. Quickly, Finn cut a perfect circle in the window that overlooked the tarmac. Then he hooked Mater. “Hang on!”

Finn leaped straight through the glass, taking Mater with him. The fallen piece of glass created a smooth ramp to the airport runway. Finn pulled Mater down hard when they reached the tarmac and zipped him away from the terminal building.

“Whoa!” a delighted Mater shouted at the top of his lungs. “This is first-class service! You don't even have to go through the terminal!”

But Acer and Grem were right behind them. “Drive forward,” Finn told Mater sharply. “Whatever you do, don't stop.”

Finn skidded around so that now Mater was towing him. Finn faced Grem, ready for the attack. Before he hit the tarmac, Grem managed to fire a rocket. Finn intercepted it with a rocket of his own.

Ka-blam!

“Everything okay back there?” Mater asked.

Just then, Siddeley, a British spy jet, appeared overhead, engines roaring.

“Finn,” the jet radioed, “It's Sid. I'm on approach.”

“Roger that,” Finn replied.

Up ahead, Acer appeared on the tarmac. He was dragging a long row of luggage carts. Mater and Finn were going to run right into the baggage train!

S
iddeley the jet swept down and blew the luggage carts apart.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!”
Mater howled as the luggage exploded. “I knew I should've done carry-on!”

And in one swift move, Finn drove toward the jet, pulling Mater after him.

“Thanks, old boy!” Finn said to Siddeley.

“You got it, mate!” Siddeley replied. He pulled his rear cargo door down for Mater and Finn to board. Holley was waiting inside.

Mater smiled. “Hey! Doggone it, look! It's my imaginary girlfriend!”

At that same moment, in his suite at a Tokyo hotel, Lightning McQueen was looking at the goodbye note Mater had left behind. Guido, Luigi, Sarge, and Fillmore were at Lightning's side as he tried to read Mater's handwriting:

I don't want to be the cause of you losing any more races. I want you to prove to the world what I already know—that you are the greatest race car in the whole wide world. Your best friend, Mater.

Lightning handed the note to Luigi and turned away for a moment.

“I didn't really want him to leave,” Lightning said to himself with mixed emotions. “Well, at least I know he's at home and he'll be okay.”

But Mater wasn't on a commercial jet heading for home. High above them, Mater was gaining altitude on board Siddeley, the high-speed, high-tech, tough-as-nails British spy jet.

“Hey, do you guys know if this is a nonstop to Radiator Springs?” Mater asked Finn and Holley.

Holley used her electronic scanner on Mater and located the device the American agent had planted on him. A robotic arm shot out of her computer and yanked the device from under Mater's rear bumper.

“Yow!” Mater shouted. “I gotta go to a doctor. I keep getting these sharp pains in my undercarriage!”

Then Mater remembered his manners. “Lemme introduce you two. This here is Finn McSomething-orother. He's a first-class airport watchamacallit. And Finn, this here's my date.” Mater turned to Holley. “I never did get your name.”

Holley hardly looked up from her work as she replied, “Shiftwell. Holley Shiftwell.”

Mater turned back to Finn to finish the introductions. “It's Shiftwell. Holley—”

Suddenly, Holley drew up an image on her computer monitor.

“Finally,” Finn said, eager to see the information from the American agent's recording device. “Time to see who's behind all this.”

The computer suddenly projected a holographic image between Mater and Holley. It showed the details of a car engine.

“What is this, Mater?” Finn asked.

Mater looked at the image and shrugged. “That? That's easy. That's one of the worst engines ever made. It's an old aluminum V-8 engine with a Lucas electrical system and Whitworth bolts!” Mater explained that Whitworth bolts were a pain to get off. Every good mechanic knew that.

“Whose engine is this, Mater?” Finn asked.

“It's kinda hard to tell from this picture, ain't it?” Mater answered.

Holley stared at Mater. “But you're the one who took it!” Then she looked at Finn. “Oh, of course,” she added. “A good spy gets what he can, then gets out before he's killed.”

“You guys is spies?” Mater was dumbfounded.

Finn turned and looked at Holley. “This was supposed to be a photo of the car behind everything—not just his engine!”

Holley searched for more information, but there was only that single image.

“An engine like this could be in any number of cars,” Finn said, thinking aloud. “This doesn't help us at all. It's a dead end. I am not happy about this.”

“You might not be, but
he's
gotta be,” Mater commented.

Finn was getting increasingly frustrated. “Who are you talking about?”

“This clunker here,” Mater said simply as he looked more closely at the engine in the image. “See how he's had most of his parts replaced? Those are original parts. They aren't easy to come by.”

“Rare parts,” Holley said to Finn. “That's something we can track.”

“Well done, Mater!” Finn exclaimed. “I never would have seen that. I know a black-market parts dealer in Paris. He's a treacherous lowlife, but he's the only car in the world who can tell us whose engine this is. Mater, what would you say to forming an informal task force on this one?”

“Well,” Mater answered hesitantly, “okay. But you know I'm just a tow truck, right?”

“Right. And I'm just in the import-export business!” Finn winked at Mater and Holley. Then he called to Siddeley: “Paris,
toute suite!
”

“Yeah, two of them sweets for me, too, Sid!” Mater shouted. “You know, I always wanted to be a spy.”