Chapter 4. Secret Plans And A Mysterious Letter
The next morning, things were happening that would eventually have an effect on the outcome of the Trans-Country Race.
Downtown, a group of men met in a hotel room. One of those present was Jack Wiley, the man who had tried to talk to Racer X on the docks the day before. Now, it was true that he was on the committee of the Trans-Country Race. What many people didn't know, was that he secretly managed the Alpha Racing Team as well.
Conflict of interest? Definitely.
Wiley sat in a fancy leather chair, puffing away on a cigar. Standing next to him was Mr. Fixer, the tall thin man in the green suit who had offered Pops Racer fifty thousand dollars to have Speed race for the Alpha Team. In front of them, Zoomer Slick and the other Alpha Team racers stood. Mr. Wiley had called this secret meeting to discuss the upcoming race. "Now, I want my team to win the Trans-Country Race no matter what the cost," Wiley was saying. He focused his beady brown eyes on his lead driver, Zoomer Slick. "Do you understand, Slick?"
Slick was more than eager to get going. "You can count on me, Mr. Wiley," he said confidently. "It doesn't matter if the Masked Racer and Speed Racer are both in the race. I'm going to beat them both!"
"Smart boy! That's what I like to hear," Wiley replied. "But it's not gonna be an easy thing. I heard that the Masked Racer is one tricky fellow."
Slick grinned. "Oh, don't worry. No matter what trick he pulls, I'll pull it first," he promised. "I'll beat him, and good."
Mr. Wiley laughed. "That's the dirty fighting spirit!"
Slick then leaned in closer to his boss. "When I do win, I'll expect to be paid well for it."
Mr. Wiley smiled deviously. "Of course you will! I promise, Slick. You'll get everything you deserve, and then some," he replied, taking another puff on his cigar.
At that point, Mr. Fixer stepped between them. "Hey, Boss. I just found out that the Masked Racer has a house in town," he said, his voice quivering with excitement. "I'll bet, he's making plans to beat us."
Mr. Wiley shrugged. "So?"
"Well, maybe we oughta make some plans to beat him. Or even, get him out of the race before it even starts," Mr. Fixer pointed out.
"Don't worry," Slick bragged. "When I'm out there on that track, I'll do my stuff and he won't know what hit him!"
Mr. Wiley nodded approvingly. Forget about Speed Racer---Slick was just the man he needed on his team now. "Good luck, Slick!"
OK, I smell dirty pool here---or is it, a dirty race??
After the meeting broke up Wiley remained alone in the hotel room, thinking. His right-hand man, Fixer, had made some good points. He wasn't worried too much about Speed being in the race; the kid was just a rookie, and rookies rarely gave it their all in major races.
Besides. If there were someone to worry about...
...It'd be Speed's father, and the Masked Racer. Pops, because he and Wiley had previously butted heads over racing issues and the Masked Racer...Well, because he was a threat to Wiley's team! Maybe Fixer's right, Wiley told himself. Time to eliminate the competition---one way, or another.
Now, what do you suppose, he's thinking of doing??
Elsewhere, across town...
At the Racer house, Spritle and Chim Chim were playing outside in the family's spacious backyard. Spritle had two toy race cars---one looked like his brother's Mach 5, and the other was a yellow race car with a number 9 on the sides, similar to the car that Racer X drove. Spritle had built a racecourse in a big, long sandbox, and the motorized cars zoomed around it. The toy vehicles were side by side.
Spritle, naturally, called the race. "Number 9, driven by the Masked Racer, is beating Speed Racer, driving the Mach 5. Now they're neck and neck---uh-oh, it looks like the Masked Racer's trying to make Speed crash!"
Both cars sped to the end of the sandbox. They flew over the edge and landed nosedown in a pile of dirt. "Yow! They both crashed!" Spritle yelled out.
He reached out to pick up the cars. Suddenly, he stopped. The cars had crashed at the feet of a man in a white racing suit. He wore a black mask over his face. "The Masked Racer!" Spritle screamed. "Hide!"
Spritle and Chim Chim ran, tripping over each other as they tried to get away. Spritle picked himself up, ran, then crashed into a chair swing! "Ahhh!!!! Oww!" the lad yelped.
Racer X approached him. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I just need to ask a favor of you."
"I'm not afraid of you." Spritle sat in the chair swing, trying to look tough.
"Isn't your name Spritle?"
Spritle quickly jumped off the swing and shook his right fist at his visitor. "That's what it is, and I'm stronger than I look. So watch out!"
The Masked Racer smiled. "Oh, believe me, Spritle. I will."
Spritle looked at him suspiciously. "So what did you really come here for?" the youngster demanded.
"I told you. I need to have you do something for me.," X replied. He held out a white envelope. "I want you to give this letter to your brother Speed."
Spritle looked confused. "Huh? I don't get it," he said, puzzled. "Why don't you give it to him youself? He's out front, washing the Mach 5. Besides, what do I look like---the local mailman??"
"I'd like to. But I don't want anybody to know about this," the Masked Racer answered mysteriously. "Please, make sure Speed gets this. It's very important." As an added incentive, he handed a surprised Spritle a big handful of candy. Naturally, that made Spritle and Chim Chim very eager to carry out their assignment.
Racer X tucked the letter inside the front pocket of Spritle's overalls, then gave the boy a gentle pat on the head. "Now be a good boy, Spritle," he said kindly. He jumped into his car, and drove off.
Spritle and Chim Chim watched the man go. "Come on, Chim Chim. We gotta get this letter to Speed!" he urged, unaware that the chimp had stolen his candy.
As usual.
Suddenly, Spritle noticed that his candy supply had just gotten smaller---nearly 80 percent smaller. "Hey!! Chim Chim, that's MY candy!" he yelled, and began to chase Chim Chim around. "The Masked Racer gave ME the candy, not you!"
Hoo, hoo! Chim Chim screeched, leaving a trail of candy behind him.
Eventually, they raced around to the front of the house. As Spritle had mentioned, Speed was outside in the driveway, washing down the Mach 5 with a hose. Spritle tooke the letter from his overalls, and began to wave it around. "Speed! Speed! Look! The Masked Racer gave me a letter. He said it's for you!" he cried out.
Speed turned off the hose. "The Masked Racer? He was here?"
"Sure was! Nearly scared the daylight outta us, too," Spritle said.
Speed eyed the remnants of the candy in his little brother's pockets. "Not to mention, bribed you with candy, I see," he joked. "Now, let's have that letter."
He took the letter from his baby brother. Spritle grinned, proud that he'd been given such an important task. Speed then opened the envelope, and read the contents.
Suddenly, he frowned. "What does it say, Speed?" Spritle wanted to know, jumping up and down with excitement.
Speed sighed, and shook his head. "It doesn't have anything to do with you, Spritle," he answered, a serious expression on his face. "It's something between me, and the Masked Racer. Promise you won't tell anyone?"
Spritle nodded. "Okay."
"Now why don't you run along? I've got to finish washing the Mach 5." Speed pocketed the letter, then went back to washing the car.
After Spritle and Chim Chim ran back to the sandbox in the back yard, Speed pondered the events of the past day or so. Boy, it's like everyone's trying to keep me out of the Trans-Country Race tomorrow. Pops nearly chewed my head off, then he tells me he doesn't want me to make the same mistake that Rex did when he was my age. Now the Masker Racer's warning me not to enter, too. I don't get it---it's just a race, I'm sure I can handle the course....What could possibly go wrong?
In your case, Speed? Everything. It's not the race course or the other racers you have to worry about...
...it's the people behind the scenes, who are more dangerous. And Speed would soon find that out, the hard way.