4

In Hot Pursuit

The plane touched down on the runway at LAX. Ethan unbuckled his seat belt.

"Y'know, you're not supposed to do that until the little light goes off," said a voice to his right.

Ethan grinned. "You never even put yours on the whole flight, Luther."

Luther Stickell grinned back. He was a bald black man, sitting in the corner of the jet with his laptop. He had worked with Ethan on a number of occasions already, and they were good friends.

"We're here," came a voice from the cockpit. This one had an unmistakeable Scottish accent.

"Thanks, Sean. I hadn't noticed," Ethan replied sarcastically.

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm just doin' my job," Sean protested. He came into the cabin.

Sean Crain was born and bred in Scotland, as could be heard. He was taller than Ethan, but he was quite gangly. He had very pale skin and a nest of curly red hair on his head. He had transferred to IMF from the Royal Air Force, and became their foremost pilot. He had a blunt, but easy-going attitude, and even though he could be a little abrasive at times, he was immensely likeable.

He opened the door, and the three agents stepped down onto the hot tarmac. It was a swelteringly hot day in Los Angeles, and within five minutes of walking, all three of them were drenched in sweat. They made their way to a car, and got in.

It was like an oven inside the car. Sean yelped when he put his hand on the leather seat. "It's too hot!" he complained.

Ethan shrugged. "Could we walk?"

"Where do you wanna go?" asked Sean.

"I'd like to have a look at the remains of the Pyrostar building. Then, I want to talk to that guard who saw Vane and Darter leaving the building, if he's still around."

Luther consulted his laptop. "Pyrostar's not too far away. We could walk there easily enough. But the security guard, Chris Peterson, lives on the other side of the city. There's no way I'm walking that distance in this heat."

Eventually, after some debate, they came up with a plan. By leaning into the car and releasing the handbrake, and putting it into neutral, they were able to wheel the car into a shaded area. "There," said Ethan. "By the time we get back, it should be tolerable."

They set off for Pyrostar.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city, Morgan Darter picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Darter, it's me," said the voice. It was a little distorted, but there was no doubt who the voice belonged to. It was his boss.

"Is he here, then?" asked Darter.

The voice laughed. "Yes, Darter. Hunt has arrived in Los Angeles. As far as I know, he wants to see the ruins of Pyrostar first, and then he'll talk to the guard. It's what I would do. Now, you know what to do."

"Yes."

"And when they're dead, go and meet Vane at Archangel. Carry out your mission there. Then head to the island and wait for me."

"What about the farmhouse? Don't you need me there?" said Darter, puzzled.

"I only need one person with me, and I'm not expecting any trouble from the delegates. Vane will suffice."

"Very well. Consider it done, sir."

The car was cool now, and they made slow progress through the city. None of them were speaking. They had all seen what was left of Pyrostar.

It was a terrible sight. Even though it had been a week since it had burned down, the authorities had made little effort to clean it up. Most of the steel was still lying in a mangled mess on the road. The whole area had been closed down to vehicles, so it turned out that leaving the car was a good idea.

After a protracted silence, Luther spoke. "What sort of person does something like that?"

Sean, who was driving, shook his head. "I don't know. A psychopath."

"Either that," said Ethan, "or someone who wanted Firestorm so much that the lives of the people in the building became insignificant to them."

"So did Firestorm do that?" asked Sean.

"I don't know," replied Ethan. "To be honest, we don't really know what Firestorm is, apart from dangerous."

Luther was looking at his laptop again. "According to the computer, Peterson lives in this street."

Sean nodded, and pulled into the side of the road. Ethan got out.

"Ethan, wait!" said Luther. He handed Ethan a watch.

"I've already got one, thanks," said Ethan, holding up his wrist to prove it.

"Not like this one. It's got a small tracking device in it, so we don't lose you." Luther handed it to him.

"You think there'll be trouble?" Ethan asked him.

Luther grinned. "You're going to be there. Of course there will."

Ethan laughed, and headed off down the street. He had figured that Chris Peterson would be nervous, and so had decided to go alone.

He got to within ten feet of Peterson's house without mishap. Sadly, things suddenly and violently changed for the worst.

A car pulled up beside Ethan. Glancing at it, Ethan recognised Peterson. He took a step towards the car, wearing what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

The car exploded. Ethan threw himself to the ground and covered his face. He looked up. The car had been completely destroyed. Looking beyond it, through the flames, Ethan saw that a man had emerged from a nearby alley.

It was Morgan Darter.

And he was carrying a rocket launcher.

Ethan couldn't believe it. How had he known that Ethan and his team were in LA?

"Damn!" muttered Darter. He had killed Chris Peterson, but Hunt was still alive. There was no time to reload; Hunt was already on his feet. Darter turned and ran for it.

Ethan gave chase. It was all he could do at the moment. Darter ran down the street, and seemed to be trying to put another rocket in the bazooka. Ethan was prepared to duck if Darter turned.

Then Darter saw a small café with a few motorbikes sitting outside it. Without hesitation, he fired a rocket into the café, and leapt onto a bike. Even as Ethan caught up to him, he sped away.

But Ethan wasn't giving up easily. He too leapt onto a bike, and tore off after Darter, who had fortunately abandoned his rocket launcher.

Darter wove this way and that through the traffic, amidst blaring horns. He seemed to have a fixed destination in mind, but Ethan didn't bother working out where it was. It was all he could do to keep the assassin in sight.

It was only when he passed a sign reading LAX that it dawned on him.

Darter was flying out of the city.

Sure enough, the African turned into the gate Ethan had left by earlier, and roared across the tarmac to a waiting plane. But unlike the small private jet Ethan had flown in on, this was a big cargo plane, with the word ARCHANGEL on its side. What did that mean?

There was no time to contemplate it. Darter was already running up the steps to the plane, shouting something to his men. His disappeared into the cabin, but quickly reappeared with a machine gun. Ethan hadn't been prepared for this!

He pulled the bike to a screeching halt, and dropped down beside it, using it for cover. Darter went back inside, and the steps were removed.

The plane's engines started up.

Ethan knew he had to be on that plane. But how? The door was closed. There was no way…

Ethan saw it. He leapt up and ran to the plane, before it built up too much speed for him to catch up with it.

He grabbed onto the metal frame that held the wheels in place, and pulled himself in.

The plane took off. The wheels folded up and the door closed.

Ethan was onboard the plane, but he was weaponless, trapped, and had no idea where they were going.