The airport was small and it didn't take long for the agents to find their reserved car. They had hoped for a Jeep but ended up with an International Scout which also had four wheel drive capability. Illya climbed in behind the wheel leaving Napoleon to navigate. "We need to head up north on route 285 and then take New Mexico State highway 502 west," Napoleon advised as he studied the map. Putting the Scout into gear, Illya noticed the clutch was a little cranky and he had to coax the transmission into first gear as they left the parking lot.
"Napoleon, we appear to have company." They had traveled about thirty miles as they headed north and about three miles from the turn off onto to NM State highway 502 west. Napoleon looked up from his map and looked in the mirror. Approximately a half mile behind them were two vehicles.
"Are you sure?"
"Fairly. I have been varying our speed for the last ten miles and they have matched it every time."
"Let's see what happens when we make the turn off."
They slowed to make the turn off that would take them to Los Alamos and as anticipated the other two cars made the turn as well. "Speed up!" Illya kicked the speed up to 70 miles per hour. The two vehicles followed suit. Both agents pulled their firearms from their holsters and laid them on the seat. Illya maintained their speed.
Suddenly, as they approached a particularly isolated stretch of road, the two cars behind them sped up. "Shit, can you out run them?"
"There is no way, Napoleon. Those are unmarked Police Interceptors. They are designed for high speed chases. Our vehicle is already pushing the limit of its capabilities."
One car passed, pulled in from of them and slammed on the brakes. The other car came up behind the Scout and tailgated it. They were boxed in and had no choice but to pull over. They carefully covered their firearms with the unfolded map. "No need to rile the local gendarmes," Napoleon advised as they waited for the next move.
Four men poured out of each car. The four in the first car were uniformed state troopers who surrounded the Scout. The others in the second car were "suits". They stayed back by their car. No weapons were drawn. One of the troopers approached the driver's side. Illya had already rolled down his window.
"Good day, officer. May I help you?" As he greeted the trooper both agents heard the sound of a billy club breaking a headlight. Another one broke out a taillight.
"You are driving an unsafe vehicle! Driving with broken lights is against the law. License and registration, Sonny."
"Of course, Sir. Napoleon will you please get the registration out of the glove box?" Illya reached for his wallet in his breast pocket. As Napoleon reached for the registration, he accidentally moved the map causing the pistol grip of Illya's firearm to be exposed.
"Gun!" Immediately, the trooper jerked the door open and grabbed the Russian by the lapels dragging him out of the car and to the ground. One of the troopers on the passenger side drew his service revolver and pointed it at Napoleon.
"Easy, boy! I know it's hot out but I don't think you want me to air-condition your brain. I suggest you hold very still and keep your hands on the dashboard."
Napoleon could hear the sound of fists pummeling his partner and the sound of handcuffs ratcheting down on his wrists. "Officer, you are making a big mistake! We are enforcement officers on assignment."
"Do you have a license for that pea shooter? And just what is your assignment, buddy boy?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, but you'll find my credentials in my breast pocket. My partner has his as well!"
The trooper reached for Napoleon's wallet and opened it up. He pulled out the gold UNCLE ID card out as well as the concealed carry permit tossing them onto the hood of the car along with the wallet.
Napoleon watched as the other trooper pulled Illya, whose hands were cuffed behind him, from the ground and pushed his torso across the hood on the driver's side. The trooper picked up his wallet which had fallen to the ground and pulled out his credentials.
"Well, I'be damned! They really are agents. Hey, I'm sorry, son." He pointed his chin towards the second car. "The way those suits were talking we thought you guys were foreign spies!" He pulled out his handcuff key to release Kuryakin.
"Hold it, sergeant! Don't release that man!" One of the men from the second car walked up. "This man is a Soviet Citizen. We want to question him further. Give me the cuff's key. I'll return them to your district office when we're finished here."
"But Special Agent Galloway, this man's credentials are in order. Both of them are on the up and up! Why would the FBI have any interest in him?"
"It's okay. We have authorization to detain this man and question him. If you would like to radio our regional office feel free to do so."
The trooper hesitated before saying, "No, that's alright. I guess you guys know what you're doing."
"Thank you, sergeant. You and your boys can go ahead about your business. We appreciate your assistance. We'll carry on from here."
As the two were talking the other three FBI agents sauntered up. Two of them went to the passenger side making sure that Napoleon stayed in the car. Galloway and the remaining agent sidled up behind Kuryakin who had been allowed to stand upright. As soon as the troopers had driven out of sight Galloway punched Illya in the solar plexus and threw him roughly to the ground.
"Now just a damn minute!" protested Napoleon. "Leave him alone. Our agencies are supposed to cooperate together!" He started to climb out of the Scout but was pushed back in and he found a pistol aimed at his heart.
"Relax, Solo. Galloway and Bronson just want to have a chat with your partner."
Napoleon watched helplessly as the two men dragged Illya off to the side of the road and took behind some large boulders.
As soon as they were out of sight, Galloway and Bronson spun Kuryakin around and pushed his back up against one of the boulders. "Well, Kuryakin, you ain't nothing but a pipsqueak, for an UNCLE agent you barely cast a shadow. To hear the boys back in D.C, we thought you had to be at least 10 feet tall and breathed fire!" they mocked. "We want to know what you are up to, thinking you have the clearance to get into the Los Alamos labs. There's no way a Commie bastard would be allowed there. Who did you pay off?" Bronson punctuated the question with another savage blow to the gut knocking the wind out of the Russian.
Kuryakin struggled to stand up straight and gasped as he tried to regain his ability to breathe. He set his jaw in defiance but said nothing which only served to anger his interrogators more. "Listen you son of a bitch, we don't care what your orders are, stay away from the lab, or else…"
"Or else what?" The words were spoken through gritted teeth.
"Try us and you'll find out." With those words Bronson delivered a punch across the face. Galloway not wanting to be left out of the fun directed a well aimed kick to Kuryakin's crotch. Unable to protect himself with his hands Kuryakin shouted in pain as he collapsed to the ground drawing his knees up to his chest. Galloway pulled the man back to his feet. "Do you understand?" Bronson asked.
Drawing himself up, despite the pain, Illya turned his cold, ice blue eyes to the agent. "Go to Hell!"
With those words, Galloway struck the man one more time then pushed him face forward towards a large clump of prickly pear cactus eliciting another cry of pain from Illya. Both men turned their backs on him and walked back to the cars.
Napoleon stopped the nervous drumming his fingers on the dashboard when he saw Galloway and Bronson coming back to the car with out Illya. He had heard his partner's cries of pain. "You sons of bitches! What did you do to him?"
"Relax, Solo. Your pretty partner is just fine. Although he may have fallen. Maybe you should go check on him. Marty, let him out of the car so he can check on the Ruskie." Napoleon opened the door and pushed his way through the group of men to see about Illya. Worried for his friend he foolishly turned his back on them. In an instant he felt a the back of his head being pistol whipped. Darkness took over as he lost consciousness and fell hard onto the asphalt.
Galloway and Bronson laughed at the sight of the incapacitated man and started back to the car. The agent named Marty was horrified that the UNCLE agents had been treated so badly. He didn't much care for his two superiors and now his opinion of them reached a new low. Casting a furtive look back to his superiors, Marty knelt down and placed the handcuff's key into to Solo's palm. "I'm so sorry!" he whispered before walking back to the car.