The van in which Uder, driving, and the two T.H.R.U.S.H. thugs rode, along with the dirty bomb, careened out onto a highway leading away from Dulles. The sole goal of which was to lose the quite obvious tail in the form of a dark-colored sedan, also now careening out onto the highway.

"I don't think there's any doubt now, Illya," Napoleon Solo stated quite succinctly, as Illya Kuryakin handled the wheel well enough to keep them on target. All the while, the half-set communication pens, in their respective breast pockets, were clicking wildly. Letting them know, even before the wild driving of the van being driven by Uder Hoffmann made it a certainty, that this vehicle carried radioactive material surrounded by enough explosives to set it loose upon the winds.

"No, Napoleon," replyed Illya immediately after, his hands expertly handling the steering wheel, "no doubt whatsoever. Just as there's no doubt that the T.H.R.U.S.H. operative at the wheel knows what the hell he is doing."

"Get us closer," urged Napoleon, even as he slipped his P-38 from its soft leather shoulder holster in which it had been so securely nestled. "I'll try to flatten one or more tires. That'll bring him to a halt quick enough."

"I'll do my best, old friend."

Even as Illya Kuryakin attempted to do as he promised, Uder Hoffmann managed to make that promise exceedingly hard to fulfill, by purposely steering wildly in and around other cars on the highway.

"I believe we have our U.N.C.L.E. agents," he pronounced to the two jumpsuit-wearing, T.H.R.U.S.H. rifle toting goons who'd been sent with him on this mission of Death for the express purpose of offering offensive acts against agents of U.N.C.L.E. "Be so good as to show them what happens whenever opposition to a T.H.R.U.S.H. sanctioned act is encountered."

Without a word, both thugs smashed out the rear doors windows, with the business ends of their rifles, in order to take aim via night-vision capable scopes in order to open fire upon the rapidly closing sedan.

Of course, the careening still be carried out by Uder, combined with the matched careening counter-carried out by Illya, made taking an exact aim upon the U.N.C.L.E. agents all but impossible. Still, there were other points of interest upon which to take aim. Points of interest that could accomplish the same thing, even though the two agents inside the sedan would not be killed by directly-fired bullets.

"Look out!"

No sooner shouted by Napoleon, than Illya quickly spun the steering wheel in the opposite direction, causing the tires to squeal, and the rear of the car began to fish-tail. The bullets fired by the T.H.R.U.S.H. thugs impacted with the side of the sedan's rear doors. Easily burrowing through one side and exiting out the other side.

"Don't lose them, Illya!"

"Just keep your aim on the tires, Napoleon!"

"That's easier said than done, my friend," mummured Napoleon Solo, as he again brought his P-38 to bear upon the rear tires of the swerving van.

"Kill them, dammit!"

No sooner shouted by Uder Hoffmann, than the two jumpsuited operatives of T.H.R.U.S.H. attempted to reacquire the two well-dressed men in the sedan.

This time their bullets found very useful homes in the radiator of the dark-colored sedan, causing steam and hot liquid to spew forth.

Bringing the car to an abrupt halt on the semi-busy highway leading away from Dulles. Bringing two U.N.C.L.E. agents to a stop, whilst in pursuit of the fleeing, careening van carrying a very dirty bomb as its payload.

"Dammit!" shouted Napoleon out of intense frustration over having not succeeded in stopping, with his P-38, the as-yet-unknown agent of T.H.R.U.S.H. and, with him, the plans to unleash lingering hell over Washington, D.D.

But it would be Illya who, having pulled his own P-38 from his own shoulder holster at the same time as the sedan went skidding sideways, fully letting him take aim out his own quickly rolled-down window...

Pft-pow! Pft-pow!

Two hastily aimed shots succeeded in putting two 9-millimeter bullets through the foreheads of two armed-with-T.H.R.U.S.H.-sniper rifle toting thugs...

Allowing two suddenly lifeless bodies to drop out the back, as the doors flew open in response to the twin killing, combined with the suddeness of a swerving, careening van.

Causing, in turn, several cars skidding to stops so as not to run over the two jumpsuit-wearing killers.

"Good shooting, Illya, old friend," begrudgingly grumbled Napoleon, even as the two of them sprang forth from their "dead" sedan. "Now how do we catch this guy?"

"Good question, Napoleon. Very good question."