It all happened so fast; the car in which Illya Kuryakin was driving down a side street in Manhattan was rear ended, sending him lurching forward.
It wasn't severe enough to send him through the windshield and luckily he had both hands firmly on the steering wheel, which kept his head from hitting it as it snapped forward.
Unfortunately Newton's law held true, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
His head whipped backwards, sending a sharp pain down his neck.
As Illya grimaced, he failed to see a figure approaching his driver side door.
When he did notice the man his first thought was not to exchange insurance information; his instincts told him to get his gun from its holster.
It was too late as the door opened and a fist slammed into Kuryakin's face. He was snatched from the car and pulled out to the street.
His head was reeling as all he could feel was the excruciating pain in his neck and now most likely a broken nose.
Though he tried to swing with his fists he was completely off in hitting his target. His eyes blurred and he was seeing double. He felt for his gun, but it was gone.
There was a second man, and now the two of them shoved Kuryakin against his car. They were all wearing what looked like rubber Halloween masks resembling President Kennedy.
"If you wanted insurance details you could have just asked," Illya mumbled, ever the smart ass.
"Get him in the boot or do him."
"No, I say take the Russkie for a ride and dump him somewhere in Jersey. It'll be a long walk back to headquarters to get the message he's not welcome here.'
Will you watch your mouth? No, I say do him! The other said. A third man appeared from their car and they encircled the dazed Russian.
They spun him around up against his car with his back to them when Illya felt a harder, more aggressive shove.
"Poke him, poke him!"
Illya didn't feel anything other than the pain in his neck and nose and had no idea he'd just been stabbed in his lower back.
"You idiot!" The one who wanted to drop him off in New Jersey snarled. "Why'd you have to do that?"
They left him as he slipped down to the sidewalk and sped off in their car.
Illya reached into his jacket pocket, feeling for his communicator. He grabbed hold of the cigarette lighter and managed to open it with trembling hands.
Turning the dial to the right frequency, he spoke into the tiny microphone, "Open channel K- Emergency. Agent down, agent dow…"
He passed out.
When Illya awoke he was in a bed in the Medical Suite at headquarters.
"Hello young man," a nurse greeted him. I have to say you had a guardian angel watching over you yesterday. You lost nearly six pints of blood. The doctors thought you had a perforated liver and had one of your major arteries nicked, but miraculously you didn't. You were stabbed twice in the same spot but the knife blade didn't hit your spinal cord or arteries. It all came down to angles and millimetres so you were one lucky guy."
He was about to say he didn't believe in guardian angels or luck for that matter, when he reached up to his neck, feeling something wrapped around it.
"Oh and you have a slight case of whiplash as well as a broken nose. So leave that collar alone please."
She held up a hand mirror for him to see.
"Looks like you've got a couple of black eyes too."
He said nothing, and though he looked quite annoyed she continued preparing to perform her duties. She'd heard about this one being a bit volatile, but Nurse Nancy Collins had been with the UNCLE for a few years now and nothing, when it came to these agent's behavior, surprised her.
She was about to check the patient's blood pressure when John Reinking, the head of Section V Security, entered the room.
"The doctor cleared me to speak to him." He knew that she was aware of who he was, though it was rare that he appeared in Medical.
"Now if you'll excuse us Nurse, this conversation is classified."
She looked at Illya and back to Reinking. She didn't like leaving a patient before checking him over and she planned to go see the doctor about it.
The Section Chief closed the door and pulled over one of those molded plastic chairs, this one happened to be orange, and placed it next to Kuryakin's bed.
"How you feeling Illya?"
He gave the man a sneer.
John didn't react to it as he was well aware that the Russian could be a bit testy even without saying a word.
"So what happened to you?"
"Car rear ended, stabbed."
Reinking also knew their new Soviet transplant could be a man of few words as well. He was already aware Illya had been in a car accident and stabbed, but he needed details.
"This is not an interrogation. How many were there? Did you know them?'
"Three. Never saw their faces. Wearing rubber masks... looked like JFK. One said to toss me in the boot of their car. Boot is a term used in the United Kingdom, though all of them had American accents."
Illya closed his eyes with a sigh. He was tiring already and he found that annoying. He did not like being confined to a hospital bed and the old memories came flooding back.
The torture he was put through in the hospital ward of the concentration camp outside Kyiv during the dirty wards he was confined to as a child when he was rescued from near starvation after escaping the camp. Then later on there were the beatings he took in the orphanage, those put him in hospital as well.
He remembered the filthy mattress on his bed; the metal frame and headboards had once been painted white, but the paint was chipped away, and the exposed metal rusted.
Then as an adult...GRU tests, more hospital beds, pain, torture, drugs; all done to condition him to be ready for his life as a spy for his country.
Reinking let Illya stare out for a few minutes as he was clearly lost in thought. Finally Kuryakin quietly spoke again.
"They argued about killing me, but one said and I quote, 'take the Russkie for a ride and dump him somewhere in Jersey. It will be a long walk back to headquarters for him to think about not being welcome here."
"Hmm, that sounds like someone who knows you"
Illya grunted his agreement.
"You didn't recognize the voices?"
"They were muffled by the masks, so not exactly. There was something familiar for a brief moment but the pain from the accident was distracting me. It all happened very quickly. Do you mind Mr. Reinking I am growing fatigued. Might we finish later?"
"Oh I think I've heard enough, and please call me John? I'm going to investigate this, you can count on it."
"Do as you wish." Illya closed his eyes.
Reinking waited, watching Kuryakin as he quickly fell asleep. He left the Medical Suite, heading back to his office in Security.
Kuryakin hadn't been here very long, and of course he'd heard the rumors about him being rude, standoffish as well as a bit of a know-it-all. As far as Reinking knew, the Russian kept to himself and didn't fraternize with anyone.
It was obvious the three who'd done this to Kuryakin had taken a dislike to him because he was a Soviet and a communist. Clearly they worked for UNCLE too, they gave that away when slipped up opened the opened their mouths.
John Reinking was a handsome man, with dirty blond hair and brown eyes. His grandparents haled from Bavaria in Germany, and he had that fair skin just like his ancestors. He had a strong square chin, and a nose that was just the right size for the shape of his face.
The women at headquarters all sighed when he walked past because in plain fact of the matter he was a good looking man, well built with broad shoulders and a nice tight butt.
Unlike a number of the agents stationed here in New York, he avoided any entanglements with the women at headquarters. He was the head of Security and couldn't risk involving himself with someone he'd potentially have to investigate. It was better that way.
He had a good social life outside of work, but there wasn't anyone special in his life. His job was his life right now. He'd worry about anything else once he got closer to retirement age, which wasn't for another ten years.
He could have a girlfriend as there weren't any rules against that, just no wife. Girlfriends could complicate matters though; how could he explain that he worked for a clandestine organization like the U.N.C.L.E. He couldn't, so that as they say was the end of that.
He quickly moved up through the ranks to the head of Security after working in the field for several years, that was until Alexander Waverly hand picked him for the job.
His background with the military police, and work with NIS made him an excellent candidate for the position. The one single thing that he was known for however, was the fact that he was relentless.
He had a talent for ferreting out moles and undesirables among the employees at headquarters. Even after vetting some people managed to slip through the cracks and get hired.
It was bad enough to have to worry about enemy agents infiltrating headquarters, but to have employees with bad attitudes and work ethics was something different all together. He was determined to find out who the guilty parties were; he could just imagine what Waverly had in store for them.
Those working for the Command were supposed to be apolitical, but coming from different countries and backgrounds, keeping to that lofty ideal wasn't always easily done. Some Americans didn't take well to foreigners, and vice versa. Still, there was no place for Xenophobia in UNCLE, or haters for that matter.
Reinking was sure Kuryakin had been targeted by some of those haters who worked here in headquarters.
Figuring out who they were was going to be tough; Reinking knew he had his work cut out for himself. Before he did anything he needed to first tell the Old Man.
Waverly's bushy eyebrows came together as brow knitted upon hearing Reinking's report.
"I knew there'd be people here who might not be accepting of a Soviet addition to our staff. It's one thing to have words but whoever these three are, they most certainly stepped over the line. Do what you must John to find out who they are."
The Old Man paused; his eyes filled with concern. He reached out, taking his pipe in his hand, but not lighting it. Instead he sucked on the mouthpiece as he thought for a moment.
"I'll not have my people harassed by narrow minded fools. I went to a lot of trouble to arrange for a Soviet representative to the Command. Some were against it in Section I as they said trouble would come of it. I suppose they were correct in that assumption, but if not Kuryakin then agent from another foreign country might have fallen victim to misplaced patriotism and perhaps bigotry. I will have none of that here. Bad enough I have to send my people into harm's way everyday, but to have them assaulted here by one of their own…"
Reinking could see that Waverly was now fuming. It was rare for the man even hint at such emotions.
"When I find out who they are, standard deprogramming?"
"No, not in this case. They tried to kill my Russian. Once you discover who they are, I'll determine their fate myself."
"Yes sir." John nodded; he didn't wait for Waverly to dismiss him as he already had his orders and left the conference room without another word needing to be said.