“This is a fabulous car, young man. I must confess... I like it,” the old man said at last.
Speed grinned. He knew the old man would come around. Who couldn’t like the Mach 5?
To thank Speed for fixing his tire and for giving him an exciting ride in the Mach 5, the old man invited them all back to his house for dinner. He had a large house in the mountains. Inside, everyone was seated around a vast dining table set with huge amounts of food. Aside from Spritle and the old man’s teenage granddaughter, there were ten other children at the table. Speed was surprised to learn that the old man had so many kids.
“Do all the children here belong to you, sir?” Spritle asked.
“Yes, I adopted every one of them except, of course, for my granddaughter, Susie,” the old man answered. “Each of these children needed a home, and I provided it.” The children smiled at him with affection.
“That’s very kind of you, sir,” Speed said. “There should be more people in the world like you.”
“I’d like to give them a better home, but I don’t make much money as a taxicab washer,” the old man lamented.
“Oh,” Speed said sadly.
“Someday, I’ll do better for them,” the old man said quietly.
Speed wished he could do something to help.
Meanwhile, very close by, a mean-looking man and his driver were prowling the dark mountain roads in a large black car. They listened intently to a news bulletin on the radio.
“The whereabouts of the escaped convict Blaggard are still unknown at this hour. Police are on high alert,” the radio announcer said.
The mean-looking man turned off the radio and roared in laughter. His dark, heavy brows lifted, and his bald head gleamed in the dark night.
“Those cops are wasting their time,” he growled. “They’ll never catch me. I’m out of jail forever.” He was the infamous Tongue Blaggard, the criminal the police were searching for. He snickered with obvious delight.
The car came to a screeching halt. Blaggard’s driver had noticed something.
“Hey, Mr. Blaggard, there it is—a Model T,” the driver said.
The headlights of Blaggard’s car shone brightly on the Model T parked in the driveway of the old man’s house.
“That one looks just like the car owned by Light Fingers Clepto,” Blaggard said. “C’mon. Let’s get it.”
After dinner, the old man walked Speed, Spritle, and Chim Chim to the door. “If you drive the Mach 5 in the Multipeak Race, I’m sure you’ll win, Speed,” the old man was saying.
“Thank you, sir,” said Speed. “I hope to be able to save enough money to enter that race. And if I’m in it, I’ll try my best to win!”
“You can do it, Speed!” Susie assured him.
They stepped out into the dark driveway.
“Oh, no! The Model T! ” cried Spritle.
Everyone looked to the spot in the driveway where the Model T had been parked just before dinner. It was empty.
“It’s gone!” the old man shouted in disbelief.
“Somebody must have stolen it, Grandpa,” Susie said quietly.
“This is terrible!” the old man cried. “That was our only means of transportation! For me, my granddaughter, and all the children! I don’t have the money to buy a new car! ” He stood in the empty spot, holding his head in his hands.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” Speed said. He glanced at the Mach 5, parked in the driveway undisturbed. It was odd that someone had stolen the old car but not the Mach 5.
“That car was left to me by Light Fingers Clepto!” the old man cried.
Speed looked startled. “You didn’t say... Light Fingers Clepto?”
“The famous crook?” Spritle added.
Speed had heard stories about Light Fingers Clepto; everyone had. He was a notorious thief who had been killed many decades earlier. Speed hadn’t expected this kind old man to know such an infamous criminal.
“Yes,” the old man said. He took a step closer to Speed, wanting to explain himself. “You see, Speed... Light Fingers Clepto was my father.”
Speed didn’t know what to say.
The old man—Mr. Clepto—told Speed how his father had been double-crossed by his own men over forty-five years ago. It was on his deathbed that he told his son about the car, his beloved Model T. “Just before it was all over, he called me to his bedside and said, ‘The car,’” Mr. Clepto said. “Those were his last words.”
“I’m so very sorry,” Speed said.
“He was bad. A first-class crook, but I loved him. He was my father,” the old man continued. “After that I had nothing but trouble and bad luck. I was poor, but no matter how poor I became, I hung on to that car because I knew it was what my father wanted me to do. It was my monument to him.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get it back to you,” Speed assured him.
“And I’ll help my brother,” Spritle added.
“Do your best, Speed,” the old man said.
“I shall,” Speed said.
4
SPEED’S ALLIES
It was the next morning at Pops’s Motors, the new garage and automotive factory Pops had opened, and Pops and his mechanic, Sparky, were sitting around doing absolutely nothing.
“There hasn’t been a single customer since we opened the factory, and I make the best engines and cars in the world!” Pops cried, raising his fist in the air.
“Maybe that’s the problem, Pops,” Sparky said. “Maybe people just don’t appreciate a car that’s really top-notch.”
“If business doesn’t get better, we won’t even have enough money to send Speed to the Multipeak Race,” Pops lamented.
Mom Racer entered the garage with a plate of cookies.
“Cheer up, the both of you,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll have lots of customers very soon.”
“I fear we might have to go out of business,” Pops said gloomily.
Sparky took a tiny nibble of a cookie and nodded sadly.
“Think of all the things we can be grateful for,” Mom said. “You have a wonderful factory and garage. Speed and Spritle are two fine sons. All we need to make life really perfect is for Rex to come home.”
“Our oldest son was foolish to run away from home,” Pops said.
They ate their cookies in silence.
They didn’t know it, but someone was listening in on this conversation, someone they never would have guessed.
It was Racer X. He was standing just outside the garage, hidden in the shadows.
With his mask on, not even his own parents would have known he was really Rex Racer.
Maybe I was foolish to run away, Pops, Racer X thought. And someday I will come back, but right now, as Racer X, I’ll make sure that my brother Speed becomes the best racer in the world.
With that, he leaped into his yellow car and gunned the engine.
Inside the garage, Pops, Mom, and Sparky heard a car peel out. They rushed outside, thinking it might be a customer, but it was too late.
Whoever it was had driven away.
Trixie, Speed’s girlfriend, was flying in her helicopter high over the mountains on the lookout for the stolen Model T. Trixie could always be counted on to help Speed whenever he was in a bind.
She scanned the area far below. Then she saw, off a dirt road at the bottom of a ravine, what looked like an old car. It was flipped on its side, its hood gaping open.
“Oh!” Trixie exclaimed. She radioed to Speed. “Trixie, calling the Mach 5.”
Over the radio she heard: “This is the Mach 5. Trixie, come in.”
“I’ve found the Model T! ” Trixie replied: “It’s off Highway Eight, near the bridge on the River Quinn.” She began lowering the helicopter to make a landing.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” Speed said. He made a U-turn in the Mach 5 and started for the River Quinn.
5
ENGINE TROUBLE
There hadn’t been a customer at Pops’s Motors all day. Pops and Sparky had
fallen asleep on a stack of crates, snoring away.
Speed and Trixie burst into the garage. The noise startled Pops and Sparky, who both woke up, looking around wildly.
“It must be a customer!” Sparky cried.
“What can we do for you?!” Pops added, rubbing his eyes blearily.
Then, when they saw that it was only Speed and Trixie, they frowned.
“It’s only you two,” Pops grumbled. “I thought business was picking up.”
Trixie and Speed exchanged a look. They had an idea... they just needed Pops to go along with it.
Trixie shot Pops a bright smile. “You know, Pops, maybe business will pick up. If you do some promotional work, people around town will start talking about you... ”
“Promotional work?!” Pops said. “I already have an ad in the paper.”
“You’ve got to show people you’re willing to work below cost,” Trixie said.
“Huh,” Pops said, not yet convinced. “How can I?”
“For your first customer,” Speed said, stealing a glance at Trixie, “don’t charge anything at all.”
“Don’t charge anything at all?!” Pops said, shocked.
“If you’re really dedicated to your business, you shouldn’t think about money,” Trixie said.
Pops looked down at his shoes. It was true—having his own garage was a dream come true. He’d do anything to make it work.
“Okay,” Pops said. “You know what? It’ll be free... to the first customer!”
At that, Speed and Trixie broke into giant grins. Their plan had worked. They turned to look outside the garage, where Mr. Clepto and Susie were standing before their antique Model T. Speed had gotten the Model T towed to Pops’s garage.
“C’mon in, Mr. Clepto!” Trixie cried. “It’s all arranged! ”
Not minutes later, Sparky had the hood of the Model T propped open and was poking his head inside to have a look. The car’s engine was broken, but Sparky could repair any automobile, no matter what the damage. Still, he’d never worked on such an old car before.
Mr. Clepto stood beside his Model T with pride. “Well, what do you think?” he asked Sparky. He sounded so hopeful.
Sparky was about to warn Mr. Clepto that he might not have the experience to fix an antique engine like this when he noticed something. That engine was no antique!
“Did you know that you have a brand-new engine in this old, uh, I mean, antique car, sir?” Sparky asked.
“Oh, sure,” Mr. Clepto said. “The old engine’s in the attic.”
Sparky looked confused.
Susie stepped up to explain. “The original engine broke down on us,” she said. “So Grandpa had it replaced with this new one here. It was cheaper than buying a whole new car, you see. But we couldn’t just throw away the old engine—”
“My father built up that old engine before he died,” Mr. Clepto interrupted gruffly. “He loved this car.”
“I see,” said Pops, and he did. He understood hanging on to old broken-down machinery for purely sentimental reasons. Cars were more than transportation from place to place for Pops—they were the most amazing things he’d ever seen.
Mr. Clepto quickly changed the subject. “So can you fix it or not?”
“Well, sure,” Sparky said. “It’s funny, but it looks like your engine was tampered with.”
Pops leaned in to have a closer look. He nodded. “Looks like someone took out your engine, sir, and then tried to put it back.”
“Whoever it was sure didn’t know what they were doing,” Sparky added. “Your carburetor wasn’t connected right. These hoses are all mixed up.” In seconds, Sparky reattached the carburetor, and the engine started up just like new.
Susie cheered.
There was a sudden commotion outside.
Some cars had pulled up in front of Pops’s Motors. Oddly enough, they were all also antique Model Ts. The drivers jumped out.
“Fix my car!” one yelled.
“My car’s next! ” another yelled.
Pops looked about to keel over. Suddenly, he had many customers!
Trixie winked at Speed. “Looks like our little idea worked,” she said.
“But do all the customers have to have Model Ts?” said Pops. He threw up his hands in good-natured frustration. “Those old cars sure take a lot of work.”
Speed agreed that it was odd. And odder still was when Sparky had a look under all of the Model Ts’ hoods and discovered that they all had similar problems. It seemed like someone had removed every engine on every Model T in the area, and then put the engines back incorrectly.
“What a coincidence! ” said Sparky.
“I think it’s more than just a coincidence,” Speed said. He turned to Mr. Clepto. “Let’s go back to your house. I want to take a look at your old engine.”
Up in Mr. Clepto’s attic, Speed found the original engine that had once been inside the Model T. The engine was covered in dust and grime.
He wondered why someone had been seeking out all the Model Ts in the area. There had to be something about the engines themselves.
That’s when he saw it. Next to the engine’s serial number was a code etched onto the steel.
Speed shone his flashlight on the engine so he could see it clearer.
The serial number started off normally: 9 8 7 ...he wiped away more dust . . . 0 0 0 0. Then there was a code carved in beside it.
Startled, Speed looked up at Mr. Clepto. “Do you think Light Fingers Clepto etched this code onto the engine?”
Mr. Clepto studied the code. Then, slowly, he nodded.
“I’m sure of it,” he said. “Maybe my father was keeping something a secret . . . ”
“Someone is trying to get ahold of this engine,” Speed said. “I wonder what this code means. It almost looks like map coordinates. I wonder . . .” He quickly memorized the code and hid the engine in the far back of the attic.
The code had to be coordinates. And someone wanted those coordinates badly.
But where did they lead?
6
CODE TO THE LOOT
Not too far away, in a secret hideout high in the mountains, Tongue Blaggard was waiting.
Blaggard’s henchmen drove another Model T into the hideout. They popped open the hood and fiddled around inside, looking for something.
Blaggard stepped in to get the news. He stood there, menacingly, his arms crossed thickly over his chest, wanting to know what they found.
One of his henchmen approached. “Sorry, boss. This engine isn’t the right one, either.”
“That’s funny,” Blaggard said, though it was clear he didn’t find this situation at all funny. “I wonder why we can’t find the Model T with serial number 9870000. You’d think we would have found it by now.”
“But . . . ,” one of his henchmen started. “But, uh, boss, you sure you’ve got the number right? We’ve looked everywhere for it. And why, huh? You sure someone wasn’t lying to you?”
The other henchmen cringed. Blaggard did not like to be questioned.
Blaggard scowled. “I say that’s the right number so that’s the right number,” he blasted. “That story I heard in prison was not phony. I remember every word that old coot told me. Engine number 9870000 is the engine we want. Etched onto this engine is the code I need!”
Blaggard had spent more years than he wanted to count locked up in prison. His fellow prisoners were other crooks and thieves. One such criminal was Sammy Sluggem, the guy who double-crossed the crook Light Fingers Clepto. No one had been able to take Light Fingers down until Sluggem got to him. But that was years and years ago. When Blaggard met Sluggem in prison, he was a grizzled old man with a shock of pure white hair and a chronic cough. Sluggem was never getting out of prison, not in his lifetime.
For some reason, Sluggem took a liking to Blaggard. Maybe he was lonely and wanted someone to tell his secrets to. Maybe he just wanted to hear himself talk. Either way, that’s how Blaggard heard about the bill
ion dollars that Light Fingers Clepto had supposedly hidden in Misty Valley. All Sluggem knew was that the way to find the loot was hidden somewhere on or inside a Model T car engine. Serial number 9870000 contained a code that would lead to a boulder under which the loot was buried.
Blaggard vowed that he’d bust out of prison and snatch that money for himself. That’s what he told his henchmen. All he had to do was find that engine!
“I hope that story’s true, boss,” said one of his henchmen.
“Oh, it is,” Blaggard said.
The radar screen started blinking.
“It looks like someone’s nearby,” another of his henchmen reported.
They went to the surveillance monitors that showed views of the mountain roads around the hideout. One showed motion.
Speeding up the narrow pass was a race car. It had a sleek white body and fender flares. On the side of the car was a red circle with the number 5.
But that’s not what caught Blaggard’s attention—because the race car was flying a flag from its antenna. The flag read: 9870000.
Blaggard got a smug look on his face. “It must be a trap,” he said. “Someone knows we’re looking for that engine. Go to your posts, men. Now’s our chance.”
7
BAIT
Speed knew someone was looking for serial number 9870000, and he wasn’t afraid to find out why.
So he and Mr. Clepto attached a flag to the antenna of the Mach 5 that clearly showed the engine’s serial number. Then they drove through the area using the Mach 5 as bait. Speed knew it wouldn’t be long before they were spotted.
Sure enough, when the Mach 5 came around a blind curve on the mountain road, a black car was waiting. Speed sped past it, and the black car began to follow.
Speed checked the rearview mirror. “They’re falling for our trick,” he said. “I knew they would.”
The Secret Engine Page 2
