Ethan stealthily ran down the first corridor he found that seemed to be heading toward a red blip on his scanner and ducked into the first empty room he found, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
Hunt to Phelps, Jim, come in, Ethan said quietly, holding the filed scanner that doubled as a radio transciever close to his mouth. Ah, the wonders of technology.
Jim here, reading you loud and clear, came the familiar voice of their IMF team's fearless leader. I assume you have broken with the pack?
That is a big affirmative, Ethan replied. You are sure this frequency is secure?
Yes I am, came the voice of Jack Harmon, the team's computer expert. I am transmitting a nominal scrambler signal, so you can rest assured none of these pinkos will be listening in.
Thanks Jack, Ethan replied. Where did they put you up this time? Elevator shaft? Bathroom stall?
Hacking away in a supply closet on the roof, for your information, Jack replied, sounding sarcastically offended. I have located my friend and your's location, tagged him with 700 nanometers.
I see the red blip, Ethan said, luckily understanding what Hacker Harmon' was saying. That is our man Taretchnakov?
Yes sir, Jack said hastily. I hope you enjoy my choice for tagging color, for as they say around here, better red than dead.
Let's hope Vladimir winds up as neither, Jim cut in, anxious to get on with the mission. Jack, have you got a map yet?
Working on it, Jack replied. Oh, and by the way Ethan, Anna lost' a silenced nine millimeter that was blessedly tagged, as well as a janitor suit she was somehow in possession of. Putting them through to you now.
A white blip appeared close to the red one on Ethan's field scanner indicating the relative location of Anna's abandoned weapon and clothing.
She figured they might come in handy for ya Ethan, Jack continued. I have the entrance to the cellblock now, but it will take some work to get there. You will want to head toward the blue dot on your scanner. Harmon out.
Ethan checked his scanner, orienting himself properly, before setting out for the white dot. It inched closer as he approached it down the surprisingly straight corridors. Within a few moments, Ethan reached a small service closet. The white dot was practically in the center of his round, radar-screen like scanner, meaning he was less than a meter from the tagged object. Ethan checked to see that no one was in the corridor and flung the door open.
Among cleaning chemicals and mop pails was a blue janitorial smock, and beneath its crumpled form rested a small black pistol. Ethan closed the door behind him, standing now in the relatively large supply closet, and pulled the blue jumpsuit over his black tuxedo for the meeting. Several white, Cyrillic letters were imprinted on the front of the cheap clothing article, one of which was awkwardly cut in half by the black zipper running up along the front.
Okay guys, I am in the lovely blue number Anna left for me, Ethan said. Got me a map yet?
Sorry Ethan, Jack said after a few seconds' silence. You are gonna have to find your own way. I've got you two landmarks though. Have fun, and don't get lost.
Will do there Jack, Ethan replied in his best Canadian accent. Thanks for the help, but try and find a map, eh?
Sure Ethan, Jack said warmly. Harmon out... again.
Ethan opened the door again, tacking the silenced pistol into his jumpsuit as discreetly as possible. Deciding at last that there was no discreet way about it, Ethan decided to keep the gun in a wheeled mop pail. Luckily there was no water in the pail, so it wouldn't get wet.
Ethan said as he left the closet. He quickly pulled the mask of Goldystein off his face and threw it in with his 9mm.
Checking his scanner every few meters as he walked, the janitor Ethan made his way slowly toward the blue dot that was the entrance to the holding place of Taretchnakov. He bowed his head in typical, lowly-janitor style whenever someone walked by. The last thing he needed now was for someone to notice his distinctly American characteristics in the KGB stronghold.
The corridors were lined with a dark oak, and the floors were all carpeted with the same boring beige color. Coupled with the subdued lighting, the building had a forbidding feel. Ethan never doubted he was in the Russian Little Shop of Horrors and he would be glad when he was done with this mission.
At last Ethan turned a corridor that led directly to the detention wing of the building. The blue dot grew steadily closer until it was in the center of Ethan's scanner. Sure enough, a large metal door stood before him, which appeared to require a card key for access.
Hey, Jack, it appears that my disguise is somewhat incomplete. I am at your much alluded entrance, but I need a card key to get in.
Two steps ahead of you Ethan, came Jack's reply, much to Ethan's relief. I am gonna force open the door in a few seconds here. I would guess it is not uncommon to have janitors going into even the detention wing. After all, floors in the slammer are no cleaner than anywhere else. But just to be sure, better have your weapon of choice ready.
Weapon of choice? Ethan asked incredulously. I have a mop and a gun.
Are you any good with a mop? Jack asked, suppressing a chuckle.
Open door, Ethan demanded, unamused.
Opening door, Jack replied.
The metal door made a hissing sound, causing Ethan to tense involuntarily. Within a second, it began to slide open slowly. Ethan didn't know what to expect, but now was his time to shine. The floors anyway.