The next day, at exactly 8.57 a.m., Jimmy and Grandpa made their way outside as the sky above them darkened. Lord Leadpipe’s giant airship floated gently overhead, blocking out most of the sun and making it seem to Jimmy like it was still night time.
Cabbie drove out of the shed and parked himself in the garden. “How do I look, Jimmy?” he asked.
Jimmy squinted at his racer. Grandpa had smartened up Cabbie’s appearance and made him look much more like a professional robot racer, but there were still grey patches welded onto the old taxi chassis, and lumps and bumps hammered into the bonnet. Cabbie wouldn’t be winning a beauty contest any time soon.
“You look amazing,” said Jimmy, hoping that he sounded convincing.
Jimmy and Grandpa packed a suitcase of clothes and Grandpa’s toolbag safely into Cabbie’s boot before climbing into the front seats. Jimmy looked around Cabbie’s cockpit. There were even more buttons and levers and switches than he remembered. Grandpa had spent half the night underneath Cabbie, making modifications and saying all the time, “Things are only going to get tougher from here on in, my boy. So I want Cabbie to be prepared for any situation. Who knows what that scoundrel, Leadpipe, will have planned for you?”
Before Jimmy could investigate the dials and knobs any further, there was a boom! which shook the earth as a huge platform was lowered from the airship on thick, metal chains.
“Amazing!” said Jimmy.
“Incredible!” Cabbie added.
“Show-off,” Grandpa muttered under his breath.
The platform reached the ground and Jimmy drove Cabbie up onto it.
Grinding and creaking, the chains were winched up again and Jimmy peered over the edge of the platform as they rose higher and higher into the sky. The platform climbed above the trees, above the tops of the houses and kept on going until it was high into the clouds.
Grandpa had his eyes squeezed shut, and his skin had turned a nasty green colour, as though he might be sick at any moment. But for Jimmy, this was one of the most exciting moments of his life.
I can’t wait to tell Max about this. I’m actually going to get to see inside Lord Leadpipe’s private airship!
Finally they heard a loud clunk as the winch ground to a halt. Jimmy looked around at his new surroundings in amazement.
It wasn’t like any airship Jimmy had ever seen before. Usually, an airship or zeppelin had just a small box for passengers slung under a huge balloon filled with gas. But in Lord Leadpipe’s craft, the gigantic balloon was a completely solid structure – and it bustled with more activity than a shopping mall.
Everywhere Jimmy looked he could see people rushing around carrying equipment or shouting orders over the sound of engines firing. There were electronic signs pointing to places like the “Swimming Pool”, “Cinema” and “Restaurant”. And the room they had been lifted into was actually the most enormous workshop Jimmy had ever seen. It was bigger than a cathedral. Under brilliant white spotlights the mechanics and pit crews for each of the racers worked on their robots, sending showers of sparks and jets of steam and billows of smoke up to the roof. None of them even seemed to have noticed Jimmy, Grandpa and Cabbie make their entrance.
As they opened Cabbie’s doors and climbed out, Jimmy saw that the platform had lifted them directly into their own workstation, with shelves, cupboards and tool chests full to the brim with state-of-the-art gadgetry that made Grandpa’s battered old toolkit look prehistoric. But before he could say a word, Jimmy felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He spun round to see a tall man with huge eyebrows grinning at him. The man wore a dark blazer with a gold ‘L’ for Leadpipe on the breast pocket, a huge red cravat tucked under his pointed chin, and two tufts of cotton wool were poking out of his ears. Jimmy guessed this was to help block out the worst of the noise coming from the mechanics.
“Joshua Johnson,” said the tall man in a loud voice. “Robot Co-ordinator. I’m in charge of looking after the teams during the competition, so if you have any problems, you see me, OK?” He grinned at Jimmy and Grandpa, his eyebrows doing an excited little dance as he offered his hand.
Jimmy shook it.
“And you must be...” Joshua Johnson pulled a clipboard from somewhere behind his back and stared at it for a moment. “Jimmy Roberts. Delighted!”
“This is my grandfather,” said Jimmy, nodding at Grandpa. Joshua Johnson moved along to Grandpa and held out his hand.
“Joshua Johnson, Robot Co-ordinator,” said Joshua Johnson again. Grandpa shook his hand and grinned.
“And this must be Ca—” said Joshua Johnson, peering over Grandpa’s shoulder at Cabbie. “Oh,” he said. He checked his clipboard again and squinted at Cabbie like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Is he...? Is he ... OK? I mean, has he had an accident? Will he be able to race?”
Jimmy felt his face going red. “Cabbie’s fine,” he said quietly.
“I’m more than fine,” Cabbie chipped in. “I’m great. Just wait until you see me race, Bushy-brows. I’ll show the rest of these robots a clean pair of tyres.”
Joshua Johnson looked a little flustered and he combed his giant eyebrows nervously with his fingers. “Right,” he stuttered, trying to look as dignified as possible. “Come and meet the other racers.”
He marched off towards a pit station where a group of ten or fifteen people stood, all dressed in black wearing black baseball hats, black trousers and black shirts. Each shirt had a streak of silver lightning zigzagging down the back.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” said Joshua Johnson, edging his way through the mechanics. Jimmy and Grandpa followed him.
The crowd suddenly parted, and there, at its centre, was a pale, skinny Japanese girl in silver motorcycle leathers. She stared at them with huge black eyes.
“Your Highness, may I introduce Jimmy Roberts and his grandfather from the United Kingdom?” said Joshua Johnson, bowing his head politely.
“Your Highness?” echoed Jimmy in surprise.
“Yes,” said Joshua Johnson. “This is Her Imperial Highness, Princess Kako of Japan.”
The girl bowed her head. Jimmy did the same.
“And this is Lightning,” the robot co-ordinator said, waving a hand at a large, powerful motorbike with a silver lightning bolt painted on the fuel tank.
Jimmy had never seen a motorbike like it. Lightning had spoilers and exhausts sprouting from every part of his body, and his huge, shiny engine looked like it could have been used to power a jumbo jet rather than a lightweight machine. Lightning flashed his headlight in acknowledgement, stretching the tip of one of his spoilers and flexing a pair of turbo jets positioned on each side of the back wheel. He reminded Jimmy of a panther, stretching after a short nap.
Joshua hurried Jimmy and Grandpa along to the next station where there was even more noise and activity than at the last. This,” said the co-ordinator, bowing and backing away, “is Missy McGovern and her racer, Monster, from Australia.”
Joshua Johnson led Jimmy and Grandpa to a huge monster truck where a short, stocky girl in oil-stained overalls was standing with her hands on her hips.
“What’s the point of your having self-regulating tyre pressure if I have to check it all the time, you useless lump?” she was shouting in a broad accent.
“Gives you something to do,” said a metallic female voice from the tiny cab perched on top of the enormous chassis. “Stops you getting bored,” it added.
Jimmy had seen pictures of monster trucks before, but standing up close to one for the first time made him realize just how enormous they were. Monster was at least four times as high as Cabbie and three times as wide. It was impossible to see what kind of gadgetry Monster had from down here, but Jimmy knew that the mammoth wheels alone could crush most of the competition.
“Maybe I’ll send you to the scrappy and get a decent racer,” continued Missy, kicking a huge tyre affectionately.
“That hurt!” said the metallic voice.
“Good,” said Missy, stomping off towards her engineers, who all wore matching oil-stained overalls.
Joshua Johnson grinned with embarrassment. “I’m sure she’ll say hello later,” he said, “when she’s calmed down a little. And this,” he went on, hurrying away, “is our next competitor...”
He led Jimmy and Grandpa over to a boy of average height with short black hair. His face looked like it had been carved in stone. “This is Samir Bahur and his racer, Maximus,” said Joshua Johnson. “Samir, this is Jimmy Roberts from the United Kingdom.”
Samir stared with his cold grey eyes and gave Jimmy a short sharp nod of his head. “I prefer to be known as Sammy,” he said with a thick North African accent. Then, without another word, he turned away to Maximus, a futuristic hovercraft powered by two hoverblades.
His mechanics were scurrying around in khaki overalls, checking over every inch of the robot for problems. Barking orders at them was a broad-shouldered man with a thick, black beard who Jimmy vaguely recognized.
“That’s Samir’s father, Omar Bahur,” whispered Joshua Johnson quietly. “He’s a former Robot Races champion himself, and by far the scariest man I’ve ever met,” he added even more quietly, before hurrying away.
That’s where I know him from, Jimmy thought to himself. I’ve seen old videos on Max’s phone of Omar winning races.
“There is one more competitor we’ll be picking up on the way to the Grand Canyon,” explained Joshua Johnson over his shoulder as they walked. “And one other competitor for you to meet now. He’s from the UK too.” Jimmy and Grandpa followed Joshua Johnson towards a sleek, black, shiny robocar that looked worryingly familiar. Beside it, facing the other way, was a short, skinny boy with a big head. He was dressed all in shiny black leathers. The boy turned round and sneered a huge horse-teeth smile.
Jimmy stared in horror.
“Jimmy, this is—” said Joshua Johnson.
“Horace Pelly,” Jimmy gasped.