Here's another chapter for everyone who's following. It seems like I'll be able to upload most week nights as the weekends are just too busy.

In reply to a guest review I had regarding Marshall being able to apply for a warrant... I'm no expert but I don't think a security official can get a warrant. Seeing as Marshall is an employee of Dinoco his authority is limited as he's not technically law enforcement. He's in the private sector if that makes any sense. Which is also why the racing board was willing to compromise by sending him the employee records.

There's also the possibility that the police wouldn't be able to apply for a warrant until either 24 hours is over or a ransom note appears. Again I'm no expert but seeing as this takes place in a world of Cars I think a little bit of creative wiggle room is allowed. Hope this explains everything and thank you for the feedback!


Although he had been in Tokyo, Monte Carlo, and London, Mater was still stunned at the vastness of downtown Dallas. The roads were wider than the other cities he had been in, and the city not as densely populated. He looked at all the tall buildings and sky scrapers with enthusiasm and drove from one shop window to the next to see what mysteries the inside of the building held.

Luigi and Guido were almost lost to them as they entered a huge department store. The store held rows upon racks, upon stacks of tires. Guido's forklift had dropped, along with Luigi's jaw.

"Guido..." he said with a shaky voice. "Look... TIRES!" The two had practically danced down the aisle in excitement.

Ramone picked up some rare paints that were hard to import into Radiator Springs, and Sarge ended up chatting with a light armoured vehicle.

They eventually ended up window shopping again.

"Cool," Mater muttered in awe, face pressed against a class window displaying various hooks. "Hey McQueen, think I should get..." the tow truck looked beside him and frowned, suddenly remembering that his friend wasn't travelling with him.

"You alright, Mater?" Ramone asked, coming beside him.

"Yeah," Mater sighed. "Just, you know, forgot for a minute that McQueen isn't here."

"Don't worry, man," Ramone replied. "He wouldn't want you to worry."

Mater sighed and nodded.

"Look guys!" Fillmore shouted, causing the rest to come towards him. He had found a little organic cafe.

"Oh no," Sarge groaned.

"Can we stay here for lunch?" Fillmore asked.

"Yeah, sure," Ramone replied. Luigi and Guido didn't seem to particularly mind where they ate, and Sarge caved under the pressure.

"I'm just gonna find the men's room," Mater excused himself, and wondered off further down the road.

"Don't think of McQueen, don't think of McQueen," he told himself after washing up and making his way back to the group. They were situated next to a large pool of water and Mater liked how the liquid sparkled.

"Excuse me," a voice behind Mater caught his attention. A light blue Ford Fusion was looking up at him with bright eyes that held an intelligent spark in them that Mater was sure he'd seen before.

"I couldn't help but notice that you're a tow truck," the car continued. "My friend's gotten himself stuck in a door. Do you think you could help him?"

"Um... Ok," Mater replied. "I mean, I dunno if I'm licensed in this state, but I don't mind lending my hook." He swung it around as he talked.

"Thank you," the car replied, and turned with an elegant smoothness that niggled the thought in Mater's mind that he should know this car.

Mater followed the car into a small office building that read 'knife sharpening services'. He glanced behind him to see his friends still eating about a block down.

"I don't believe I caught your name mister," Mater tried to engage in conversation as he entered the building.

"That's because I believe you know it," the car replied, and Mater watched shocked as the light blue body of the car folded away to reveal...

"Finn McMissile!" Mater whooped. "Daggunit, I knew I recognized you."

The Aston Martin smiled at the tow truck as he rambled on.

"And here I thought that I'd gone and ruined the day, what with forgetting McQueen is gone... McQueen! Is that why you're here, Finn? Are you gonna help us find him?"

"That's not why we're here," the spy replied. "But as it turns out we may have to."

"We?" the confused tow truck asked.

"Hello, Mater," a female voice floated from a door. Mater turned abruptly to see a purple car smiling brightly at him.

"Miss Holley," he exclaimed. "Boy, am I glad to see you."

"As am I," Holley replied, giving the tow truck a kiss on the cheek. "We're so sorry to hear about your friend."

"Yeah," Mater's tires dropped. "But that's why you're here right? To help find him? Isn't that what spies do? Or can you not tell me?"

Holley chuckled at barrage of questions.

"No, Mater, we're not here to look for McQueen," Holley told him gently. Mater glanced between the two of them, confused.

"You remember what happened last year at the World Grand Prix?" McMissile asked, driving to behind a low desk.

"Shoot, yeah of course," Mater banged his tire on the floor enthusiastically. "Sir Axlerod was trying to make Allinol look bad, 'cause he had a huge oil reserve and wanted to make a ton of money selling it once his company started looking bad. They also wanted to kill McQueen but we managed to stop all of them and I was knighted."

The tow truck looked immensely proud of himself.

"Unfortunately, we didn't get all of them," McMissile said and pressed a button in front of him. A screen fizzled to life of Holley's dashboard. A picture of an orange AMC Gremlin appeared on the screen.

"I know that car!" Mater exclaimed. "He chased us at the airport and tried to kill you in Japan!"

"Known simply as Grem," McMissile rolled towards the image. "He's the last piece of the Axlerod conspiracy puzzle."

"We've been tracking him for the past year," Holley explained. "Turns out he managed to escape after being thrown into a pub in London. Over the past few years he's been all over Europe, managing to secure the other shares in the oil rigs."

"It seems his buddies are determined to leave it to him to carry out revenge," McMissile sounded grim.

"We think he has all of the shares," Holley stated. "And that could be disastrous if he decides to flood the market with oil."

Mater nodded slowly, not entirely understanding what 'flood the market' meant, but he figured Grem would simply find a big market and flood it with oil so that the cars wouldn't be able to drive away because of the slick.

"He was last seen on a security camera in New York," McMissile explained. "And with the disappearance of your friend, it can't be a coincidence."

"Wait, how do you know 'bout that?" Mater asked. "Sarge told me not to tell anyone."

"Oh, a little bird told me," Finn said, smiling wryly.

"So, you think..." Mater said slowly. "That this Grem fella kidnapped McQueen for revenge."

"As revenge," Finn stated. "Or perhaps as leverage. It's possible he wants to get all his friends out of jail. Threatening to flood the market is one thing, but threatening a race car's life would be another thing entirely."

"Then why did Grem take Mr. the King?" Mater asked. "He didn't have nothing to do with Sir Axlerod."

The two spies glanced at each other.

"That we don't know yet," Finn admitted.

"We think that Mr. Weathers might have stumbled across the scene by accident," Holley stated. "And the carnappers just took him to keep it quiet."

"So, what can I do to help you get them back?" Mater asked eagerly. "Will we get to go on a super secret mission again and karate some bad cars."

Mater kicked forward excitedly with his front tire and with a hi-ya whipped his hook onto the wooden desk and ripped a chunk out.

"Oops," he said, as the wood went clattering to the floor. "Sorry 'bout that." Holley smiled slightly.

"No, thank you, Mater," she said. "Although we'd love to have you join us, we need you to stay here, undercover."

"I ain't too good at that undercover stuff," the tow truck glanced down.

"We won't ask you for anything dangerous," McMissile said. "We want you to report what's going on here in Dallas. If any of your friends or the Dinoco security team find a lead, I want you to phone us."

"But I don't have a phone," Mater replied.

"I can install one for you," Holley said.

"And it will lead straight to our private numbers," Finn nodded to the two spies. "All you have to do is say 'call Holley and Finn' and you'll be directly connected with us."

Mater took a moment to digest all of this information.

"So, you just want me to call you whenever Marshall or Sheriff find anything on the missing cars?" He asked slowly.

"Exactly," Finn replied.

"Well... shooot," Mater grinned. "Sure, I'll do that for ya! Ye just needed to ask."

"I have every confidence in you, Mater," the old spy said confidently.

When Mater excited the office building, he had a one-way line installed with Holley and Finn's numbers. Swelling with pride, it was impossible for the other cars not to notice.

"What took you so long?" Sarge barked.

"Oh... just ran into some old friends," Mater said lazily.

"Friends? Here?" Luigi asked. "You must have been mistaken."

"Was not," Mater glanced down at the smaller car. Sarge rolled his eyes and ended the conversation before Luigi could answer with a 'was to', by shoving a can of oil in Mater's direction. The other cars let the subject drop as well, figuring Mater had just had some sort of crazy daydream.


The last couple of hours stretched into what felt like days for Strip Weathers. Somewhere during the plane ride, he had fallen asleep along with McQueen, both of them tired by the events of the day and lulled by the plane's engines. They were shaken awake after what Weathers thought could only have been 3 hours and after the plane landed, they were moved into another trailer. The airport they landed at was definitely far away from any major cities, and Strip saw a brief flash of tall trees and assumed that they had flown East and were still in the country.

After one more haul in the back of a smaller trailer, the two cars entered what one of the Ford Raptors called 'their final destination.' All four of their captors were quite tired and Strip hoped that he could help the kid make a break for it. While he was a fast car with a lot left in him, he was out of practice and knew McQueen would have more success with speeding away. But the two cars were out of luck as they were rolled out at dawn into what seemed like a compound. Strip looked around as quickly as he could, and although he had an untrained eye, he noticed several forklifts moving around what seemed to be barrels of oil.

The two cars were prodded by the gun wielding Raptors to a warehouse, and again daylight was stolen from them.

"I'll go report to the boss," the smaller of their captors said tiredly once they had reached their destination. It was a rather large room with one wall completely covered by a huge tv screen. The Raptors left their prisoners booted in the back part of the room and pushed some oil towards them, completely uninterested in any sort of interaction.

"You'd think they'd care a little bit more," McQueen muttered, sipping the oil and watching as the Raptors turned on the television and flipped to the news channel.

"They're probably on a pay-roll," Strip replied quietly.

Even though the 'boss' had received word of their arrival, the two cars spent the whole day alone in relative privacy. Several forklifts, Chevrolets, and even an AMC Pacer Car came in and out of the room to get a drink or talk to the Raptors. Strip noticed the Pacer Car in particular because he had snapped at one of the Raptors as if he were in charge.

McQueen wasn't nearly as interested in studying the boring activity around them and seemed to grow quite restless as the day drew on.

"So, Mr. the King," he finally asked. "Where you from?"

At Strip's inquisitive look the red car shrugged and continued.

"It's just that we're stuck here, and, well, I knew Tex signed you up originally and you raced for him your whole career, and I wanted to know what else there is to that."

"Well, son, I'm originally from Utah," Strip decided to indulge the young race car to keep his mind occupied. "Came from a small town south of Salt Lake City."

"Were there any races there?" Lightning asked, glad for the distraction.

"Small ones, mostly. My father took me when I was young and I knew then that that was what I wanted to be. 'Course I started practicing and when I was old enough went to the first race I could afford, seeing as I had to pay myself."

"Your parents... didn't want you racing?" McQueen asked hesitatingly.

"It wasn't exactly that," Strip continued. "They just wanted to make sure it was what I wanted, and decided to make me work for it. I had to pay the entry fee for my first race myself, except for the part my brother helped out."

"Cal's Dad?" Lightning asked.

"Yip. My senior by 5 years," Strip nodded. "Always took it upon himself to keep me in check when my parents weren't around."

"Didn't I read somewhere that you won your first race by a mile?" Lightning prodded.

"It wasn't exactly a mile, son. But I knew by then that I wanted to make a career out of it, and my family saw I had a talent for it."

"When did Tex sign you on?" McQueen asked curiously.

"After I had been racing for about a year," Strip replied. "I'd gotten my first set of racing tires then, and after a race he approached me in all of his Texan glory and announced that Dinoco was looking for a new racer."

"What did you say?" Lightning grinned slightly at the mental image of the Dinoco CEO.

"Nothing at first," Strip admitted. "My brother had rolled up by then, and immediately asked Tex who he was and what he wanted. He was only in the racing world for my sake. He didn't know who Tex was and certainly didn't trust him."

"But Tex convinced him, right? I mean, Tex convinces everybody eventually," McQueen rolled his eyes for emphasis.

"He sure does, and I raced for him the next year. The rest is history," the King said. "He's a good car, Lightning. If ever you wanna change sponsors."

"He pay you to say that?" McQueen joked and the two cars laughed quietly.

"What about you?" Strip asked. "First time I saw you was during the New Hampshire race where you almost beat me. Blew the racing world away that day."

"Aw, not much to tell," McQueen shuffled forward a little. "Grew up in the big city, always dreamed of racing. Got into some small races until Dusty and Rusty found me scouting for talent."

"How did those two get their hands on a Piston number?" Strip asked, and Lightning knew better than to take offense.

"Got lucky, I guess," he shrugged. "They were the only ones who requested a 95. They were a little shocked when they got it to be honest. Didn't know what to do other than to hire an agent and go scouting for a racer."

"They were lucky to have found you," Strip commented, knowing that Lightning definitely had a raw talent for racing.

"Not at first, they weren't," Lightning half-exclaimed. "I hated them during that first year. The only reason I took the sponsorship was to get into the series. By the end of the first year I was sure I would get into Dinoco and never have to see them again."

Lightning shook his head at himself.

"Then why didn't you?" Strip asked. "Tex was ready to give you that job - still is in fact."

"Oh, I ended up in this little town called Radiator Springs," Lightning chuckled. "Turns out folks there had some lessons to teach me about loyalty."

"And you came back with the Fabulous Hudson Hornet as your crew chief," Strip shook his head, maybe just a little bit jealous. But he turned sincere again and said, "That town was just about the best thing that's happened to you."

Lightning agreed and the two kept talking. Talking and watching the news was the only thing they had to do, so the two cars exchanged racing stories and Lightning gave Strip a detailed narrative of his Grand Prix adventure. This took up a significant portion of the day and by the time McQueen had finished the two cars felt quite comfortable around each other. They eventually reached the topic of family.

"Mother passed away," Strip answered when Lightning asked. "Cal's father still lives with mine in the same old town."

"Did they ever come to your races?" Lightning asked.

"Not usually to mine," Strip stated. "But they listened every single one on the radio."

Lightning smiled, thinking of how the times had changed with televisions.

"And yours?" Strip asked, and McQueen's smile faltered. He looked down and shrugged slowly. Realization dawned on Strip.

"I'm sorry, son," the ex racer said, nudging the younger car lightly.

"It's alright," Lightning shrugged. "It was my first race so a while ago. They told me to keep going for the Piston Cup... That's part of the reason I went so hard for it I guess."

"You didn't have to do it alone."

"I didn't know that then," the race car said earnestly. "It took Radiator Springs to teach me that. That and an old race car called Doc Hudson."

The two cars lapsed into a comfortable silence, having said all there was to be said. Their thoughts wandered to their families, Strip thinking about Lynda and Cal and hoping to goodness they were safe and not worrying about him. Lightning thought of Mater, Doc and Sally. He knew they were worried, and hoped that they wouldn't do anything crazy to try and rescue him, especially Mater.

The television broadcast switched to the two hosts in the studio.

"And now, from Dallas Texas, an important message from the racing board."

The Raptors and both race cars perked up at the news.