The Ambuscade Affair

The Ambuscade Affair

By Jkkitty

She laid down the guitar that she had been strumming to help pass the time letting Napoleon’s subconscious know she was there when as her brother came into the room, offering her his shoulder. He held her tight as she leaned into him.

They looked at their pale friend with all the tubes running in and out of him knowing that only the best of luck would allow him to live. His broken and injured body fighting the best that it could, but his desire to fight seemed to be waning. His partner along with his lover watched over him adding their strength to his.

Josephina Nichovia Kuryakin loved this man; she had seen him taken but was unable to stop it. Exhaustion became too much as she fell asleep her head beside him on the bed holding his hand; even in sleep she wouldn’t abandon him.

Illya Nichovetch Kuryakin was angry with himself; he believed that he should have seen it sooner—his partner’s kidnapping, torture and now possible death. The details of the assignment ran through his mind as he tried to figure out how they could have handled it differently.

A Week Earlier

Once more Napoleon Solo UNCLE CEA and his partner and next in command Illya Nichovetch Kuryakin were sitting across the table from their boss, Alexander Waverly. They waited while he lit his pipe organizing the papers in front of him. Finally, he looked up acknowledging them.

“Gentlemen. I know you have been bored the last couple of weeks, but it seems that whatever Thrush is planning they’re keeping it a secret. Other than a few minor problems, they have been quiet; as we all know that usually means that they’re organizing something big.”

Both men knew that Waverly was correct. The quieter Thrush was, the more likely that they were about to launch a significant assault on someone or something.

“Today our agents, working from a tip, intercepted a message during a rendezvous between two Thrush agents,” he sent a piece of paper toward them. The paper had Thrush code on it with the translation below the cipher. It gave a time and place, and the words: Section 2 Number 1 but nothing more.

“Where did this come from? I know that I’ve never seen this particular code before, sir” Napoleon asked as he passed the sheet of paper to his partner.

Illya studied not only the code but the paper itself, “Neither have I sir,” he said as he passed it back to Waverly.

“The message was being passed in the little park near 40th Street when our men intercepted it.”

“Does this stink like a trap to anyone else? The park is only a few blocks from headquarters, why would Thrush pass it there? It sounds very suspicious to me.”

“That’s smell like a trap, Illya.”

“What? Oh okay, I do not the like the looks of this. It’s almost as if someone wanted to make sure we intercepted the message.”

“I agree Mr. Kuryakin., any ideas Mr. Solo?”

Napoleon looked at each of men before him, “Well sir, it seems like this invitation has been directed to me if we are to take this reference to Section 2 Number 1 seriously, otherwise why would they use my designation on the communication.”

“I tend to agree Mr. Solo; however, we’ve no idea as to what they are planning and why at this point.”

“Do we have someone watching the park sir?”

“Yes, two agents are there taking pictures of all the coming and going. Well gentlemen, check out the park yourself, and see if you can come up with any connections to what they are planning. According to this note we have two days before the stated date and time. Keep me informed.”

As the two men stood to leave, he continued, “And Mr. Solo, do be careful. I don’t believe Mr. Kuryakin is anxious for a promotion quite yet,” he then started to examine another folder in front of him indicating their dismissal.


The young adults, a male and female, sat in the middle of a group of youths in the small neighborhood park strumming their guitars and singing requested songs. The male’s British accent blending with the female’s unidentifiable one entertained those spending the day in the sun. The young woman was dressed in a flowered poncho top, bell bottom faded jeans with patches, sandals, and her waist long pale strawberry blonde hair held in place with a flowered head band. Her blue eyes were clear and smiling under her sunglasses that she would occasionally push back up.

The young man was dressed in tattered blue jeans also with patches on the knees, a white turtleneck covered with a leather vest lined with fringe, and wearing a worn green corduroy hat. He also wore sunglasses covering his green eyes which seemed to slide down his nose thereby needing to be pushed up frequently. Anyone looking at the others gathered would think the two were dressed in the uniform of the times.

Eyes scanning those passing by, the singers took pictures of all who were coming and going each time they pushed up their glasses. Mark Slate and Jo were the perfect choices for this assignment. Both were less known by the local Thrush agents so that a slight change in costume was all that was needed to fool those present. Only someone who they had personally faced would recognize them.

As the day went on, both noticed a number of UNCLE agents searching the park for further clues as to what Thrush was up to this time. When Napoleon and Illya entered, Mark poked his singing partner, “There’s our mates.”

Smiling Jo acknowledged their presence by leading the way into My Guy by Mary Wells.

The senior partners leaned against the fence surround the park listening to the music while watching people entering and leaving the park. A few of those present were lower level Thrush operatives, after a few hours the partners walked around checking out areas that could conceal threats to UNCLE and its personnel. It was then that they spotted a middle level Thrush agent who appeared to be avoiding someone.

“Trap?” Illya suggested.

“We’ll never know if I don’t let them spring it,” Napoleon suggested and then followed the man.


The two top UNCLE agents had followed the man into the woods at the end of the park where the attack took place. A few of the group attacking them went after Napoleon, while the majority of the group assaulted Illya using pipes, bats, and other items to create the most damage possible.

It seemed that every time the CEA could down his adversary another one would come after him, but at no time did the majority of combatants leave his partner. Napoleon was able to pull out his communicator, yelling into it for help from Mark, who came running, heading right toward the group who had Illya pinned down on ground battering him continuously. With the three agents now in the fight, the group of Thrush agents left as quickly as possible.

“Tovarisch, open your eyes,” Napoleon ordered as he held his partner’s head in his lap.

“Go away, I am just going to lay here until I decide is I am alive or not.”

Solo checked over his partner for broken bones or other injuries. “Nothing is broken that I can fell or see, but you’ll have some good bruises tomorrow.”

“Then I will live?”

“I’m afraid so, come on let’s get you checked out back at headquarter,” he helped his partner up with some assistance from Mark.

After the English agent left to help pack up his and Jo’s equipment, the two partners walked the block to the parking structure that was another entrance to UNCLE. Medical personnel met them at the door to accompany a complaining Kuryakin to the infirmary.

The CEA went to Waverly office to convey his oral report after dropping off the pictures taken by their agents in the park.

“Why Illya sir? They very specifically targeted him. They kept me just busy enough that I couldn’t help him but didn’t do any real damage. It was as if they were trying to put him out of commission.”

During the report, the injured agent was sitting in his customary seat, a headache threatening to rip off the top of his head, while the rest of his body wanted to defect from him.

“They did seem very interested in damaging me more than Napoleon.”

“This isn’t the first time this has happened today. In three other major cities, our Section 2 Number 2 have been attacked. Unfortunately two are in the hospital, one didn’t make it: Section 1 will be teleconferencing later this evening to discuss our concerns. For the time being, both of you be careful. Mr. Kuryakin, seeing you are not staying in Medical, go home for the night.”

The dismissal was clear, until Section 1 met later that evening; the next step was a waiting game.


Mark had taken the van back to UNCLE with their equipment when Jo had sensed the attack before it happened, turning to the confrontation, she was able to avoid the majority of the pipe. It was one of the policemen who she had seen earlier and identified him as a Thrush agent.

“I thought it was you, Kuryakin,” he said as he swung the weapon again.

She recognized him from a previous encounter, just as she jumped back out of his way, grabbing the end of it as it whisked pass. A yell from behind her brought more of the youth who had been listening to the music and soon police joined the disturbance. A shot in the air stopped the fighting causing many of the young adults to take off before they could be cuffed; Jo, being in the center of the activity, was one of the unfortunate ones—cuffed she was taken to jail.


When the phone rang, Illya had just laid down after a hot bath to help loosen the aching muscles from the fight. His side still was painful when he moved from the pipe that had connected with it.

“I need you to bail me out of jail,” on the other end of the line was his sister.

“Why are you in jail? Just show them you’re UNCLE card to be released,” he was tired, sore, and actually didn’t want to go out unless he really needed to.

“Mark has my ID, communicator, and gun; he was heading back with the van when all the trouble started. One of the policemen was Thrush, recognized me and started a small riot. I was arrested with about 10 other innocents. We need to get released; you are coming, right?”

About a half an hour later she heard, “Come on jailbird, your free to fly away.”

Napoleon stood in front of the cell with a grin on his face.

“Do not say one word, Napoleon or you will be sorry. Where is my brother?”

“His UNCLE needed him immediately so he asked me to do the honors. After all I am your boss; he just kept me updated on the status of my agents.”

Boss, vybolʹ v priklad, i eto ne smeshno. Kogda ya poluchu na nego ruki , ya istreblyu yee nakoleni.( Boss, you are a pain in my butt, and this is not funny. When I get my hands on him, I will cut him off at the knees).”

“Remember my love, I do understand Russian. Just wish I had a camera with me; this would be an excellent addition to UNCLE’s rouge gallery.”

Ryvok (jerk). Laugh all you want now, but remember payback is a not very nice,” she said as she pushed past him.

“Drop me off at home,” was the only thing she said to him once they were on their way.

As soon as she said that, Napoleon’s communication beeped. “Mr. Solo report immediately to headquarters, I assume that Miss Kuryakin is out of jail and with you.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded giving her CEA a look that was meant to send grown men running, why was she surprised that Waverly already knew about her.

“I want both of you here within 10 minutes,” he said just before clicking off.

Derʹmo. I cannot go through the halls like this,” she complained.

“No one will even notice,” Napoleon assured her, words that came come back to haunt him as they walked through the halls toward Waverly office.

The normally black clothed agent was met with grins and chuckles from personnel they passed as they traveled the halls who quickly turned away when her glance met the their eyes; Napoleon felt the daggers she was throwing into his back knowing that she would find a way to get even in the future.

Illya and Mark could see the anger in her eyes as she entered and were smart enough not to say anything but their grins couldn’t be hidden.

“Ah Mr. Solo, Miss Kuryakin,” looking up at them, “No time to change,” he asked glancing at her clothes.

“Sorry sir,” she said sliding into her seat trying to look as small as possible.

“Well, all right. The problem has expanded; all other headquarters where there are CEA have also received information with the same date and time on it. It seems gentlemen, Miss Kuryakin, our top enforcement agents are being threatened. Section 1 has therefore decided that all these men will be put under protective custody.”

“WHAT?” Napoleon shouted, “I can’t be efficient if I’m being protected, besides if I’m the target why did they so clearly go after Illya when we were in the park before instead of me.”

Chapter 2