A Taste for Adventure Read online

  To Rowan, Fabio, Matteo and Nia – AF

  To my sister, Kate – EF

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  IT’S SHOWTIME!

  WILY CHECKS IN

  RISE OF THE MACHINES

  THE MYSTERY CALLER

  WILY FEELS THE HEAT

  RIN FACES THE MUSIC

  THE CRAZY MAZE

  THE GRAND FINAL

  EXTRACT FROM ‘A TRAIL OF TRICKERY’

  ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE SERIES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  COPYRIGHT

  Wily Fox, the great detective, was standing in front of a large TV studio. The neon lights of Tokyo flashed above and behind him. A long queue of animals clutching sleeping bags snaked along the pavement. Wily walked past them and approached the main entrance.

  “Get to the back of the queue,” barked a security guard, a large rhino holding a big stick.

  “I’m here to see Charlie Cheetah,” said Wily.

  “Nice try,” said the rhino. “But the boss doesn’t have time for visitors, and nobody jumps the queue while I’m on duty. If you want to be in the audience for the Megachef final next week, you’ll have to get to the back.”

  “But I don’t,” protested Wily.

  “Course you do,” said the rhino. “Everyone does. Megachef is a worldwide phenomenon.”

  Wily pulled out a letter. “I’m a worldwide phenomenon, too. And Charlie Cheetah has asked to see me.”

  The security guard studied the letter. “Seems genuine,” he grunted, looking Wily up and down. He took out a badge. It was in the shape of a frying pan and marked MEGACHEF GUEST. He pinned the badge to Wily’s lapel and whispered, “Today’s password is prawn crackers.”

  “Prawn crackers,” Wily said to the rhino security guard outside Charlie Cheetah’s office.

  “You’re free to pass,” said the security guard, opening the door wide.

  “Ah, Mr Fox,” said Charlie Cheetah, coming out from behind his desk. “Thank you so much for coming.” He bowed at Wily, who bowed back, then gestured towards a large leather chair.

  “Please sit, Mr Fox. Would you like some mocha ice cream?” asked Charlie. “Or perhaps some amanatto – they’re like doughnuts.”

  “No, thanks – I’ve just eaten,” said Wily.

  “You don’t mind if I do?” asked Charlie, opening a desk drawer.

  “Not at all,” said Wily.

  “Great!” Charlie took out a large doughnut. In between mouthfuls, he told his story. “I’ve always loved food, Mr Fox (chew, swallow). Even as a child (mmm, delicious), when my friends were out playing football, I was still inside (BURP, excuse me), taking hours over my lunch.”

  “I can imagine,” said Wily.

  Charlie started on another doughnut.

  “Five years ago, I started working for Tokyo TV as a newsreader (hiccup, oh dear). But they were looking for ideas for new shows (chomp, gulp). I proposed Megachef, with me as producer, writer and presenter. They let me make one episode, to see if people liked it. Fifty million people watched it in Japan alone.”

  “Wow,” said Wily.

  Charlie started on a large cup of tea.

  “Now it’s the biggest show in Asia (slurp). Amateur chefs compete from every country in the continent. They’re all desperate to be crowned (glug) Megachef champion.”

  Charlie dabbed his lips with a huge napkin.

  “The final is in three days’ time,” he said. “The problem is – someone is trying to sabotage it.”

  “Sabotage?” said Wily. “What do you mean?”

  Charlie pressed a button on his desk and a screen slid down on the opposite wall.

  “Watch this,” he said, pulling out a tray of cakes. “It’s from the Megachef semi-final two nights ago. We were down to three contestants and one was about to be knocked out. Everything rested on this last cooking challenge.”

  The screen came to life and Wily saw three contestants standing in front of a long worktop. On the left, there was a nervous-looking shrew wearing thick glasses. In the middle, there was a confident-looking lemur in a baseball cap. On the right, there was a gloomy-looking coyote with bags under her eyes.

  “He’s Shoma Shrew,” said Charlie, between mouthfuls, “he’s Lenny Lemur and she’s Kia Coyote.”

  It was the dessert round. Shoma Shrew was making a meringue, Lenny Lemur was tackling a trifle and Kia Coyote was starting a soufflé. Charlie fast-forwarded to the end of the show.

  Charlie himself appeared on screen. “And now let’s bring on the judges to find out which of our three semi-finalists will NOT be back for the final next week!”

  A horse wearing a monocle came on the set, followed by a frowning platypus.

  “Haruki Horse is Japan’s greatest chef,” Charlie explained to Wily. “Petra Platypus is a famous Australian food critic. Now, look at this.”

  “Let’s start with Kia Coyote,” said the Charlie on screen.

  Haruki Horse, Petra Platypus and Charlie all tasted Kia’s soufflé.

  “Delicious,” said Haruki and Petra – and Charlie agreed.

  Then they tried Lenny Lemur’s trifle.

  “Amazing,” said Petra and Haruki – and Charlie agreed.

  Finally they tried Shoma Shrew’s meringue.

  “Completely incredible,” said Haruki.

  “Absolutely sensational,” said Petra.

  The Charlie on screen looked horrified as he tasted the meringue, but he quickly stammered, “Yes. Er, good. Very good.”

  Charlie paused the recording. Then he pulled a meringue from a fridge under his desk.

  “This is the meringue that Shoma made. Taste it.”

  Wily put a spoonful on his tongue and winced.

  “Exactly,” said Charlie. “I don’t know if he used too little egg white or added too much sugar, but it’s revolting. So, Mr Fox, I need you to find out why my judges awarded maximum points to THIS.”

  “Did you ask them after the show?”

  “Yes, they both looked at me like I was mad. I made them taste it again and they insisted it was delicious.”

  “Odd,” said Wily.

  “They’ve sent Lenny Lemur home, and Shoma and Kia have gone through to the final. Lenny was a real audience favourite as well. It’s like they’re trying to destroy the show. What if they sabotage the final, too?”

  “Have you done anything to upset them?” asked Wily.

  “No,” said Charlie. “They’ve been with the show since the beginning. I thought we were … friends. Then they do this! Thankfully no one in the audience noticed anything out of the ordinary. But the press have been asking questions. One food critic noticed that the meringue looked unusual. If something like this happens in the final, they’ll say the show is rigged. It’ll all be over. My life’s work ruined.”

  “Then I need to start investigating at once,” said Wily. “The most obvious place to start is with the remaining contestants. Where are they staying?”

  “The Tokyo Lodge Hotel,” said Charlie.

  “OK,” said Wily. “Time to pay them a visit.”

  The hotel was a five-minute walk away, which gave Wily time to phone his trusty assistant, Albert Mole. Whenever Wily needed a gadget, a contraption or just some information, Albert was always on hand to help him.

  “Albert, are you in Tokyo yet?” asked Wily.

  “Yes, I’ve set up a temporary HQ underneath the Hamarikyu Gardens,” said Albert. “What did Charlie Cheetah want?”

  Wily explained the case to Albert and then said, “Now I need you to get me information on the pair who made it to the final – Shoma Shrew and Kia Coyote. And find out if anyone had a grudge again
st the contestant who got knocked out – Lenny Lemur.”

  Wily stopped talking, pressed a button on the side of the phone that transformed it into a rubber stun Frisbee and flung it over his shoulder.

  Someone had been following him.

  When he turned round, whoever had been there was already gone. Wily spotted a shadow moving down a side alley and heard echoing footsteps. He grabbed the Frisbee-phone from where it had landed and raced down the alley, but it was too late. There was no one in sight.

  Wily crouched down, looking for paw prints. He saw a small smudge in a patch of mud, possibly made by a rodent’s back foot. Gerbil? Mouse? Or maybe … shrew? Could Shoma Shrew be trying to stop his investigations?

  Wily arrived at the Tokyo Lodge Hotel. It was decorated in a traditional Japanese style, with sliding paper walls, wooden floors and hanging lanterns everywhere. As he walked into the lobby, Wily was hit by a wave of noise. Lenny Lemur was halfway through a press conference. Journalists were fighting to photograph him and ask him questions. Next to Lenny stood a fierce-looking lemur wearing a large turban. Wily guessed this was Lenny’s mother.

  “Are you disappointed to be going home?” asked one of the journalists.

  “Yes, very much so,” Lenny began.

  “Of all the ridiculous questions!” his mother huffed. “Of course he’s disappointed – he should be in the final! He’s a fabulous cook.”

  “Will you compete again next year?” another journalist asked.

  “I’ll have to think about—” Lenny began.

  “Of course he will!” his mother interrupted. “He’s a Kobe Lemur! We’re the oldest lemur clan in Japan! Do you think we’ll give up just because some half-witted horse and a pea-brained platypus made a stupid decision?”

  “Mr Lemur,” said another journalist, “the audience loved you. Have you got plans to—”

  “Of course they loved him,” Lenny’s mother burst out. “He was the best chef in the competition. It’s a scandal! It’s an outrage! If I ever meet that Charlie Cheetah, I’ll knock the spots off him!”

  “Calm down, Mother,” said Lenny.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” she replied. “That shrew and coyote can’t cook – it’s as simple as that! I could smell that terrible meringue from the front row. To lose to a pair of chumps like them is the worst thing of all!”

  Wily glanced across to the left and saw the “pair of chumps” that Lenny’s mother was referring to, waiting to be interviewed.

  Shoma Shrew was wiping his glasses nervously on his sleeve. Had he run to the hotel after following Wily?

  Kia Coyote was staring at her feet, looking slightly embarrassed by Mrs Lemur’s insults. Was she feeling guilty because she knew the result was rigged?

  “One thing’s for sure,” Wily said to himself. “If Lenny’s mother finds out they’re involved, she’ll pull their heads off.”

  Then he had another thought. As Shoma and Kia were down in the lobby, he could look for clues in their rooms. He moved away from the journalists and approached the reception desk.

  “Any mail for Room 13?” he asked.

  The moose behind the desk moved away from his computer and turned to look at the pigeonholes. While he was doing this, Wily swivelled the computer screen round and quickly found the room list. Shoma – Room 8. Kia – Room 11.

  By the time the moose had turned back to the desk, there was no one there.

  Wily was at the end of a long corridor. On both sides of him were paper walls on sliding panels. He could see shadows through the walls – a polar bear talking on the phone, a skunk hunched over a laptop, a pelican watching TV in bed. Wily walked down the corridor and reached Room 8. There was no noise or movement inside.

  Wily tried the door – locked. He pulled out a universal keycard that Albert had made for him during the Case of the Imprisoned Piglet and slipped it into the slot beneath the door handle. The light on the handle turned green.

  Inside the room, Wily found nothing suspicious. Shoma’s clothes were ordinary-looking and there were no unusual items tucked in the pockets or hidden in the sleeves. He opened a large suitcase at the end of the shrew’s bed, but it just contained cookbooks, bottles of sauce and Shoma’s lucky frying pan. Wily opened a bottle of ketchup and sniffed. It was just ketchup.

  Then he heard a PING coming from Shoma’s laptop. Wily went over to the desk and read:

  Shoma, my angel.

  You’ve brought us so much honour. You have reached further in life than anyone in our humble family has ever managed before. Try to keep your nerves under control. You can do it!

  Mum

  Wily hesitated before clicking on Shoma’s other emails – after all, the shrew was only a suspect, not a criminal. But Wily only had three days to solve this case – he had to be ruthless.

  As he read, he quickly realized that Shoma’s family was extremely poor. It seemed unlikely that he could have paid the judges. He also seemed very timid – not the kind of animal to use bribery or blackmail.

  Time to explore Kia’s room, thought Wily.

  In Kia’s room, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, either. As Wily was rummaging through one of the coyote’s drawers, Albert called.

  “I’ve run a thorough background search on the contestants,” he said. “Lenny Lemur is most likely to have bribed the judges. His family is very wealthy. But he was knocked out.”

  “What about Shoma and Kia?” asked Wily.

  “They seem to be honest animals,” said Albert. “Though there is one strange thing.”

  “What?” asked Wily.

  “I managed to hack into the PSSST archives – got a five-minute window before they booted me out. Turns out PSSST has a file on both Kia and Shoma.”

  PSSST was the Police Spy, Sleuth and Snoop Taskforce. The head of PSSST, a bulldog called Julius Hound, often clashed with Wily over their methods of investigation.

  “Why would PSSST have a file on them if they’ve never broken the law?” asked Wily.

  “It is strange, isn’t it,” said Albert. “PSSST only keeps a file on animals that have a direct link to crime. And here’s the strangest thing of all.”

  “What?”

  “Both files are marked open,” Albert said. “The investigations are ongoing.”

  At that moment, Wily heard a creaking noise behind him. He ended the call with Albert and turned round. There was a dark outline on the paper wall behind him. Someone was standing outside Kia’s room. He didn’t know how long they’d been there, but he guessed they’d been listening in to his conversation.

  Wily didn’t move.

  Then there was a CRUNCH! and a RIP! and a ROAR! as the eavesdropper jumped through the paper wall, right at Wily.

  Wily saw nothing but a muzzle and a large paw. He rolled sideways, trying to throw the attacker off, but the animal clung on to him. Struggling against each other, they tore through another paper wall, where two herons looked up from a game of chess, then another, and soon they were back in the hotel corridor.

  Wily finally got himself on top. He pinned down his attacker’s arms and drew back to get a proper look.

  “Hello, Julius,” said Wily. “Albert and I were just talking about you.”

  Julius Hound kept struggling. “Get off my case,” he growled. “And get off me, too!”

  “Not until you tell me why PSSST is interested in a cooking show,” said Wily.

  “What cooking show?” Julius snarled. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re investigating Shoma Shrew and Kia Coyote,” said Wily.

  “We’re investigating everyone in this hotel,” said Julius. “Our suspect was seen here yesterday.”

  “What suspect?” asked Wily.

  “Can’t tell you,” said Julius.

  “Then I can’t release you,” said Wily.

  Julius growled. “OK. We’re on the trail of a ninja assassin. Last month she tried to assassinate the vice-president of Papua New Guinea. We’ve tracked her t
o Tokyo, but we don’t know what she’s doing here.”

  Wily released Julius and they both stood up.

  “I’m on a completely different case, so you don’t need to worry,” Wily said. “I’ve been hired by Charlie Cheetah, the host of Megachef.”

  Julius sniggered. “Megachef? You mean that silly cooking show my wife watches? What are you investigating?” He grinned. “An undercooked sausage? A stolen tea cosy?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Wily replied. “But now you can stop following me. I assume it was one of your agents tailing me earlier on.”

  Julius looked genuinely surprised. “Not this time. I didn’t know you were here till I saw you downstairs. You must have other enemies – besides me.” He stomped off down the corridor. “And stay away from my ninja assassin,” he barked over his shoulder.

  Wily looked at the walls, now full of holes and flapping shreds of paper.

  “We certainly tore through this place,” he said.

  Wily was at Albert’s HQ, studying a map of Tokyo.

  “Did you know this city has 13 million people in it – twice as many as London?” Wily said.

  “1.62 times as many – to be exact,” called Albert from behind a large purple curtain.

  “That gives me twice as many suspects,” said Wily. “So there’s no time to waste. The contestants seem honest enough. Now, what about the judges?”

  “I thought you were going to say that,” said Albert, emerging from behind the curtain with a screwdriver in his hand. “That’s why I’ve made you this.” He pulled the curtain to one side to reveal his latest invention.

  “A plank of wood?” said Wily.

  “Jump on it,” instructed Albert, smiling proudly.

  Wily moved over to the striped board that stood on a bench in the middle of the floor. He jumped on to it. A blue light flickered under his feet. A gentle female voice said, “Footprint match. Wily Fox. Turbo surfboard activated.”