5

Archangel

Everything was black. Ethan had no idea how long he had been here. The plane droned on through the sky, heading, presumably, for "Archangel", wherever that was.

Ethan shifted around a bit. He had been unable to get comfortable since the flight began, and he didn't dare try to get up into the main body of the plane. Worse, he needed to go to the toilet. There was no opportunity to do so here.

He just hoped that the watch Luther had given him would help them follow him. Ethan shivered. It had grown distinctly colder as the flight progressed, implying that they were heading north.

At least he wasn't hungry. He had eaten a huge meal on the flight here, mainly because of Sean Crain. Sean's explanation was, "Well, I thought Luther would have eaten a lot… he's a big guy, y'know?". Ethan had made sure Luther didn't hear him.

He noticed a change in the sound of the engines. At the same time, the floor tilted downwards. Finally, they were on their descent.

It only occurred to Ethan what was about to happen at the last moment. He quickly grabbed the wheel strut, just as the landing gear opened.

He was greeted by a blast of freezing air that knocked him off balance. With a small gasp, he stumbled and fell out of the plane. He had an impression of whiteness, rushing towards him, and then he landed face down.

Ethan wasn't sure if he was conscious, or even still alive. He was icy cold, and wet, and hurt all over. That seemed to indicate that he was still alive, at any rate. Slowly, he raised his head.

Snow. That was all he saw, stretching out in all directions. Except for to his left, where he saw a large concrete structure surrounded by a wire mesh fence. A large placard near the entrance read: ARCHANGEL RESEARCH FACILITY. NO UNAUTHORISED ACCESS.

They had arrived.

He watched the cargo plane land on a small airstrip. He had to get in there, and find out what was going on. But first things first. There were a few trees dotted around the place, and he hurried behind one to relieve himself. That taken care of, he began to examine the perimeter fence.

It took him a few minutes to realise that there was a large hole in it.

He hadn't noticed it, naturally, because he had assumed that such a thing couldn't exist. But there it was. Wary that it might be a trap, Ethan stole towards it, keeping behind available trees.

Something beeped. Ethan realised it was the watch. Holding it up, he was surprised to hear a tinny voice emanating from a small speaker. "Ethan?"

"Luther?"

"We're tracking you, Ethan. What are you doing in Russia?"

"Russia?" Ethan looked around. It did look like Russia. Something occurred to him. "Am I anywhere near the place I had the disastrous meeting with Petravich?"

"Yes. You're only three kilometres north of it. Is that important?"

"Maybe. I have the feeling I'm going to find Petravich in Archangel. If he really is behind it, then perhaps I can get some answers."

"Okay. Well, judging by the fact that you probably are stranded, Sean and I are going to fly to you and pick you up."

"Right. Just be prepared for trouble."

"Always am, Ethan, always am. Good luck."

The watch fell silent. Ethan considered what Luther had told him. This was only three kilometres away from the previous rendezvous? It was too much of a coincidence. Petravich had to be here. And now Darter, who had stolen Firestorm in the first place, was also here. This was Ethan's chance to find out what the Mafiya intended to do with the weapon. And maybe he could work out what exactly Firestorm was.

He looked back at the hole in the fence. It was too good to be true, surely –

Then he saw a guard walk past. He looked dead on his feet. Pale skin, smoking a cigarette, he was shuffling as though he had only just got out of bed. And then it dawned on Ethan. Security was practically non-existent here, because they were so far out in the middle of nowhere. The facility's safety lay in the fact that no one could find it. The flat roof was covered in a layer of snow, meaning it would be almost invisible from above. They obviously felt they were safe.

This was good news for Ethan. He was able to sneak in through the fence, and he began looking around.

He made his way to the airstrip he had seen, just in time to watch Darter carrying a crate of something off the plane. Suspecting that it might be Firestorm, Ethan followed him.

Darter took the crate into a large, open-fronted building. Most of it was open to the air, allowing Ethan to see inside.

It was a laboratory. Dozens of people in white coats were scurrying all over the place, carrying test tubes, beakers, equipment…

There was no doubt about it. This was where Firestorm was being made. Darter must have given the sample he stole to these men, and that allowed them to make more of it. As Ethan watched, a man with grey hair and thick spectacles approached Darter.

"Ah, mmh, Mr Darter, mmh, sir. Just in, mmh, time."

"Uh, yeah," said Darter, clearly uncomfortable. "Is he here?"

"I'm here, Darter," said Maxwell Vane, emerging from a doorway. It was clear from the way he walked who was in charge here. Darter immediately ceased being a tough guy, and was now acting like a servant.

Vane had changed since the previous week. Burning down your workplace and killing most of your colleagues can affect a person. He was weaker, but put on a tough attitude to cover the fact. It worked quite well, since he now had Darter at his beck and call.

"Okay, Darter, the last batch of Firestorm is ready. Here, I'll take it," he said, turned to a woman who was carrying…

Ethan couldn't believe his eyes. It must be a joke.

She was holding a basket that was loaded with bottles of red wines. It must be some sort of hoax. But then Ethan remembered the meeting with Petravich. Firestorm was a red liquid. And putting it in wine bottles made it easy to get through Customs.

That reminded Ethan, he still hadn't seen Petravich. Where was he?

Vane took the basket, and walked in the direction of the plane. "And, mmh, our, mmh, payment?" the old man asked.

Vane nodded. "Darter, give them what is due to them."

Darter smiled, and opened the crate. From here, Ethan could see that it was full of machine guns.

Darter came up firing. He sprayed bullets all around the room, smashing glassware and killing people in all directions. Vane watched with a slight smile in his face. Ethan was horrified.

When the massacre was over, Darter grabbed the crate and the two of them ran to the plane. Ethan didn't stand a chance of getting back on it, but he had the presence of mind to throw the watch at Darter. It landed in the crate without being noticed, thankfully.

As the plane roared off into the sky, Ethan went back to the lab. It was a mess. Blood and broken glass was everywhere. There were no survivors.

But as Ethan turned to leave, he heard a groan. He quickly looked around. Suddenly, a fallen table was kicked away. There was a young man under it. He was in pain, with blood seeping through his white coat, but he was alive. Ethan ran over to him.

"Listen," he said. "This is important. We need to hurry. Where are they taking Firestorm?"

"Don't know," the man mumbled. "We made it, that's all. Our contract was: no questions asked."

"That's fine. Question two: what exactly is Firestorm?"

The man laughed, but then choked and coughed up a little blood. He was dying, and Ethan needed more answers.

Finally, the wounded scientist explained: "Think of it as the most volatile, combustible chemical in existence. A tiny spark will turn it into a huge fireball. That's all I can say. You'd need to see it for yourself."

"Okay, then, what about Petravich? Is he here?"

The man stared at him. "How did you know?"

"Believe me, it was fairly obvious this was a Mafiya job."

"Was it?" The man looked confused. "The Mafiya have nothing to do with it, as far as I know. Darter and Vane work for some American guy."

Ethan was stunned. He had been wrong all along. "Who?"

"Don't know," the man muttered again.

"Alright. Can I talk to Petravich? Is he here?"

The man regarded him with suspicion. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Vladimir Petravich is dead. He died three days ago in an accident. He was our friend, the one who kept the Mafiya away from our secrets. And then he goes and falls down a mountain!" The man coughed, and died.

Ethan moved away from him. He seemed to be a little mad.

Just then, he heard the thudathudathud of a helicopter. He ran out. To his immense surprise, it was Luther and Sean.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" he asked, once he had climbed onboard.

Luther grinned, and patted his laptop. "I had you on the satellite. I was watching you, and saw that you didn't follow your watch onto the plane."

"How long were you watching me?" asked Ethan, suspiciously.

"Since you made that majestic dive off the plane."

"You mean you were watching me when I was… you know… behind the tree…?"

Luther cleared his throat, and changed the subject. "I saw you going into the building, so we assumed you'd come out again."

"Doesn't the satellite have thermal something or other that lets you see through the roof?" asked Ethan, still looking a bit put out.

"Nope, never has."

"But that can't be… how did he know about the guard…?"

Luther looked at him. "Uh, Ethan? Did you find anything out about Petravich?"

Ethan looked up. "He's dead," he said, bluntly. "He died three… days… ago…" He faltered. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Because Vladimir Petravich had died three days ago.

But Ethan had confronted him two days ago.