Mission: Impossible [antikvár]

mm mssiBU Alexander Golitsyn, the stolen NOC list safely stored in his inside breast pocket, quickly navigated through a throng of people. Ethan checked his Visco monitor, and saw that Jim Phelps was at the other side of the bridge, peering over his shoulder through the rising fog. Suddenly, the barrel of a gun aimed point-blank at Jim became perfectly visible on Ethan's tiny screen. A static-filled pop burst from the microspeaker, and the transmission went momentarily crazy. When the image resolved, there was a bloody hole in the center of Jim's chest. Ethan heard sounds along the promenade. He ran toward the end of the bridge and saw Golitsyn walking briskly. Ethan started to give chase, glancing back at the transport vehicle, where he saw Claire's outline in the driver's seat. And in the instant while Ethan thought about what he was going to say to her, the car blew twenty feet into the air and turnéd into a rolling fireball. "Claire!" Ethan screamed, covering up from raining glass and debris, Ahead, Golitsyn finally slowed down, reaching somé kind of marker or rendezvous point. He edged toward an archway and seemed to speak with another person hiding in the alley. Suddenly, Golitsyn straightened up, then crumpled to the ground. As Golitsyn's body feli, an arm reached from behind the archway and pulled something from Golitsyn's jacket. Ethan burst out of the fog and moved to Golitsyn's body. Blood was soaking his clothes. A quick inspection of his pockets turnéd up nothing. Not a key, a coin, or even a piece of lint. There was nothing else for Ethan to do. No transport. No backup. Ethan whirled around to see policemen charging through the fog. It was time to run.