Cars 2 by Irene Trimble

“T his is Agent Leland Turbo,” the British spy car whispered hurriedly. “I have a flash transmission for Agent Finn McMissile.” Turbo was looking directly into the camera of his audiovisual transmitter, trying to reach headquarters. The agent quickly spun and checked to see if his enemies were approaching. Safe so far. “You won’t believe what I’ve found out here. This is bigger than anything we’ve ever seen. And no one knows it exists.”
    The audio static was making Turbo’s message nearly indecipherable, but some of his words were crystal clear: “Finn, I need backup!” The transmission flickered. Then Turbo added, “Transmitting my grids now. Good luck.”
    Hours later, in the pitch-dark night, a feisty little boat fearlessly made its way through the rough seas of the North Pacific. It stayed on course as its bow alternately rose and slammed down into the oncoming swells.
    On board, Agent Finn McMissile steeled himself as the boat approached the coordinates designated on his dashboard. As one of Britain’s best spies, Finn had serious business to address tonight—clandestine business.
    â€œAll right, we’re here—right where you paid me to bring you,” Finn’s scrappy ride told him as they rocked from side to side. “The question is: Why?”
    â€œTo find a car,” Finn answered elusively.
    The tiny boat glanced back at his rider. “I hate to break it to you, but there ain’t nobody out here.”
    Finn braced his tires. The little boat was wrong about that. The agency had tracked Finn’s fellow agent Turbo to these very coordinates. Turbo was somewhere out here, and he was in trouble. Turbo also had information—important, top-secret information.
    Suddenly, the bright light of a massive combat ship targeted the little boat. Finn took this as a signal that they were close to his enemy. No one else around here would have high security. He quickly backed into the shadows.
    The combat ship suddenly swung a laser beam directly at the boat and ordered, “Turn around and go back where you came from.”
    â€œSorry, buddy,” the boat said to Finn. “Guess this is as far as we go.”
    But no one answered. Finn McMissile was gone.
    As the combat ship navigated the turbulent waters, Finn hung off the large vessel’s side, unseen. A sudden discharge of orange flame briefly illuminated the darkness. In the flash, Finn could see that the ship was pulling alongside a huge oil derrick.
    He quickly released a high-tech tether that held him to the side of the ship, and drove up to one of the higher platforms. The deck below him was crawling with cheap cars—likely inexpensive labor for whoever was running this place. Gremlins and Pacers unloaded crate after crate from a large cargo boat.
    Then Finn heard the unmistakable sound of German engineering. A boxlike blue-green car, wearing a monocle, rolled onto the deck and began shouting orders.
    â€œToo many cars here! Out of the way!”
    Finn instantly recognized the car: Professor Z. He was a gifted German scientist whose specialty was designing weapons. He was also at the top of Britain’s Most Wanted list. Professor Z was willing to do any work—terrible and destructive work—for anyone willing to pay the right price.
    â€œHere it is, Professor,” a Pacer said as he hovered next to a crate. “You wanted to see this before we loaded it?” Not even Finn recognized the American agent Rod Redline, working undercover as a Pacer.
    â€œAh, yes,” Professor Z answered. “Show me, please. Very carefully.”
    Finn silently fired off a grappling hook and slid to the other side of the oil derrick. He watched as a forklift lowered and opened the mysterious crate. Inside was a TV camera packed as carefully as a brand-new windshield. The letters WGP stood out on its side.
    Professor Z was most pleased. “Good,