Jones and Isabella helped smuggle Larry back to the van. Nakamura went to hand in the keys. Neil stopped on the edge of the dock and checked his e-mail. He was right. The message was another clue from Nori.
COOK AND COOK AND COOK
YOU TRY, BUT NO VICTORY
IT IS IN THE CAN
(PS: DO YOU LIKE BASEBALL? I AM A BIG FAN.)
That’s it? No details on pickup? And what does ‘it is in the can’ mean? I’m getting so sick of all this, Neil thought. He wondered if he should even bother figuring out the clue. After all, they were nowhere near finding the treasure, or Hiro. That meant he had to lose anyway.
Neil climbed into the SUV and sat down next to Larry. “Why are you in the backseat this time?” Neil asked.
“Isabella called shotgun. And I think Jones actually has one under the dashboard, so I’m happier back here.” He looked at Neil’s e-mail.
“Bah. That one should be easy, even for a turkey brain like you.”
“How so?”
“Well, ‘in the can’ clearly means you’re going to make stuff from canned foods, so you’re probably supposed to bring a lot of stuff from those weird Japanese vending machines. So all you have to do is work out a menu, buy the stuff, and get ready to cook. And BIG and baseball can only mean one thing.”
“And that would be?”
“Seriously?”
“JUST EXPLAIN IT TO ME!” Neil yelled.
“Shhh. Remember Jones’s shotgun, and he has very sensitive ears.”
Neil rubbed his temples. “Please explain it to me,” he whispered.
“The Giants. Tokyo’s baseball team. They play downtown at the Tokyo Dome. Can’t miss it, looks like a big egg.”
“Hard- or soft-boiled?” Neil said.
“Ha, ha. See, you’re feeling less stressed out already.” Larry smiled.
“So now I know where, how about when?”
Larry grabbed Neil’s phone and typed in “Tokyo Giants Home Schedule.” “One o’clock tomorrow. They have a home game. Nori’s probably got a private box.”
“If he makes me cook hot dogs, I’ll cry,” Neil said.
“Neil Flambé making hot dogs. That I’d love to see.” Nakamura laughed, jumping in next to Neil.
“It is NEVER going to happen.” Neil slammed his fists into the seat.
* * *
“Hot dogs!” Nori said with a flourish, lifting the lid off a platinum- and diamond-encrusted serving platter.
Neil slammed his fist into the kitchen counter.
“And the canned foods you have brought must complement the taste.”
“So what’s the deadly health risk today?” Neil called out. “Besides the hot dogs, I mean.”
Nori smiled. “I’m not going to tell you. You’ll have to figure it out all by yourself . . . or not. Now you have an hour to wow the crowd with a baseball-themed dinner!”
Today’s battle wasn’t, oddly, on Nori’s yacht. Instead he’d booked an entire section of the baseball stadium and crammed it with his cronies. They started by watching the game, with the Giants winning 3–2. It was an amazing scene, with fans banging loud drums and the entire crowd cheering and chanting from start to finish. They even released a thousand balloons into the air in the middle of an inning. Neil actually found himself enjoying the experience. Then the game ended and Nori’s cronies wheeled two complete kitchens onto the field.
“I had a bit of an incident on my yacht,” Nori explained vaguely. “I felt more secure here. My security staff is on-site making sure that no one gets in or out.” Neil wondered if the incident was a Koko-led reconnaissance mission to the yacht. Neil also wondered if Nori had brought the sharks along in a portable swimming pool, but thought it better not to ask.
Neil examined his gleaming stack of canned goods. He’d bought the strangest collection of tuna, shrimp, even canned Kobe beef tenderloin. He had his menu all planned out. The problem was, it was going to be wonderful . . . and he needed to lose. Nori called Neil and Kong over to the edge of the outfield fence to bow to the crowd. That’s a new twist. Maybe it’s some baseball tradition, Neil thought.
The judges were seated in the front row and yet another new judge had joined the panel. This time it was a very thin man with a very pale complexion. Neil couldn’t quite figure out what his risky behavior could possibly be. Breathing looked like a challenge. Maybe he avoids sunlight, Neil thought.
They bowed to each other and the crowd began chanting and stomping their feet. Neil looked up and noticed that he and Kong were on the giant TV screen. Animated characters were dancing around their faces. The ones dancing around his head resembled small furry cattle, or maybe demented chipmunks. They appeared to be goring him with their horns. It was unsettling.
Kong’s characters looked more like smiling overripe grapefruits. They seemed to be smiling and singing a song. That was more unsettling.
Nori waved his arm back in the direction of the kitchens. “Now the clock starts. Please turn around.” Neil turned and noticed with a start that all the cans had been moved and stacked into a pile, their labels ripped off.
“Hahahaha! Now you see the danger. You thought I’d let you just walk in and plan your own menu? Now you will choose ten cans each, and cook with every ingredient. Just imagine the possible combinations!”
“That’s not dangerous, just annoying,” Neil said.
“Except that three of the cans contain food that has been contaminated with bacillus cereus—a very hard bacterium to kill off. It causes immediate sickness and very often death. It’s also very dangerous to handle so you’d better be careful as well. Only dishes that are cooked perfectly will be safe.”
Neil counted. There were twenty-three cans in all. He didn’t need to do his math homework to figure out the odds were pretty good that he’d have at least one tainted can in his dishes. Neil was always conscious about food. He could always smell when something had gone bad, but a bacterium that had been injected into the food? He couldn’t be sure.
Kong seemed as impassive as ever. Neil noticed he was wearing latex gloves. Good idea, big guy. Nice of Nori to tip you off yet again, Neil thought.
“GO!” Nori yelled. Neil and Kong rushed to the pile of cans, grabbing ten each. They returned to their counters and began opening them. Neil was happy to see that he had chosen the beef and the shrimp. But there were two cans of water chestnuts and one of sardines. Had Kong added those to the pile, or were they the tainted ones that Nori had thrown in? They all smelled fresh. Neil exhaled a big breath. And the cans are mostly water so I can at least drain off the liquid, in case it’s infected, he thought.
“You must also use the liquid,” Nori called. He’d acquired a microphone and his voice boomed around the stadium.
So much for that plan. Neil decided his best bet was to make a kind of soup or noodle stew. At least that way he could cut the liquid with plenty of water and he could also boil it at a high temperature. He set the beef aside, planning to thinly slice it into an appetizer with rice crackers.
Then he remembered the hot dogs.
He could just serve them in buns with some ketchup and relish. No. He needed to lose but he didn’t need to look like he was throwing the competition. That might get Nori asking questions. And he had his pride. So, how to cook the hot dogs and still maintain some level of self-respect?
Neil had visited the concession bar during the game. Yes, they’d had hotdogs, but hardly anyone was ordering them. More people favored the deep-fried octopus and the fried balls of mashed potatoes. Fried, Neil decided. He’d slice the hot dogs into small bits, dip them in a panko bread crumb batter, add some spices, deep-fry them, and then serve them next to the soup.
As Neil prepped his food, he saw Kong smashing his hot dogs with his huge palms. Was he frustrated, angry? Neil watched as Kong took the smashed hot dog meat and then grilled it with a sweet and sour glaze. He was making a kind of Asian-inspired steak. Wow, Neil thought, this Kong guy is getting better. That’s the problem with throwing two matches. Your challenger starts to get more confident and, therefore, dangerous.
And thanks to Neil, there would be a winner-take-all final—and Kong was going to be a real competitor for it. Neil started cutting his hot dogs.
In yet another bizarre twist to the duel, the countdown for the duel wasn’t shown on a clock but was represented by two mascots who raced around the base paths in slow motion. An incredibly grating electrobeat song played over the speakers. Neil watched them reach first, mesmerized, before realizing that meant they’d already been running fifteen minutes.
Neil hurried to catch up, throwing his ingredients into a pressure cooker to raise the heat even higher, hopefully killing any bacteria.
The mascots rounded third base and slid into home just as Neil finished ladling his soup into his bowls and Kong splashed wasabi-infused mustard foam on his hot dog steaks.
“SAFE!” Nori yelled, leaning over the mascots like an umpire.
“Let’s hope so,” Neil said under his breath.
The waiters came over and gathered the dishes. Neil knew he’d cooked his dishes long enough and hot enough to kill any normal bacteria, but he suspected Nori’s laboratory friends had come up with a particularly tough one. He hoped everything had at least been diluted enough to maybe cause an upset stomach, but nothing worse.
Neil’s dishes were served first. “Your mascot lost the race,” Nori said with a shrug.
“One of those mascots was mine?” Neil said, exasperated. “That was a race?”
Neil watched in disbelief as a servant for the new judge pulled out a blender and proceeded to plop Neil’s noodle soup into the container. He hit a button and within seconds the carefully crafted meal was reduced to a puree.
Then the servant placed a straw into the blender and the judge began sipping. The effort seemed to tax him and he only swallowed a small amount before leaning back in his chair, exhausted.
The others greedily ate up the beef, dipping it in a hoisin sauce Neil had prepared on the side. They practically slurped up the soup. Neil watched as they finished off the deep-fried hot dogs, although the new judge pureed that as well. Neil noted happily that no one seemed to be feeling sick.
Kong’s dishes were next, and Neil could see that the judges preferred his take on the baseball classics much more than Neil’s. Even the emaciated judge in seat five took not one but three sips. They confirmed Neil’s impressions a few seconds later with a unanimous win for Kong.
Unanimous! Neil thought with a jolt. I lost and it was unanimous? He looked over at Kong, who seemed to have the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. Unanimous? Neil shook his head sadly. Unanimous?
Nori’s voice seemed to strain the limits of the loudspeakers. “SO! We are now tied! But Kong is champion for today!” The crowd went wild. “We meet again in two days! We have had Russian Roux-lette . . . now prepare for battle RUSSIAN OMELETTE!”
Neil was too deflated to wonder or even care what that meant.
