Atticus Crayle: The accidental spy book cover

Atticus Crayle: The Accidental Spy – Free on Kindle for a limited time

FREE on Kindle til Friday 8th November 2019. FREE on Kindle Unlimited.

Atticus Crayle: The Accidental Spy is a YA action thriller adventure.

Teenager Atticus Crayle sets off on holiday with some new friends – only to be attacked by gunmen and drawn into a deadly kidnapping plot. Atticus finds himself in an explosive car chase, a perilous train journey and one hail of bullets after another. He’s caught in a dangerous world of spies and organised crime. But Atticus Crayle is no ordinary teenage genius.

UK 

US 

CA 

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IN 

The Diary of the Writer on the Run

The Blade

There was no running. I couldn’t move quickly enough to dive behind the nearest tree.

The eight gun-wielding mercenaries advanced on me.

Maybe I should have stayed inside.

A dark shape swept past me.

Muzzles flared in the darkness. Guns fired. The attackers reeled off streams of silenced rounds – which ricocheted away from the dark figure flying over the ground toward them.

Then they recoiled in alarm at the tall, muscular figure – who wore jet black armour under a black hooded cloak and ripped a sword with a narrow, gleaming blade from its sheath.

His boot kicked one attacker in the chest, sending him crashing into the guy behind. He punched one to the ground. Then his blade slashed, stabbed and sliced. Five attackers lay dead. The other three retreated and ran into the woods. The hitman tore after them. The hitman who had threatened to kill me was now saving my life. Apparently, if he couldn’t kill me, no one else was allowed to either.

Loud, agonising screams rang out – from where the hitman had chased them down. He’d hunted them down and shown no mercy.

I didn’t wait for him to come back. I scrambled to my feet, shoved the Glock in my belt, grabbed a couple of assault rifles, slung the straps over my shoulders and ran for it. My eyes swept the trees in front of me, scanning for any signs of more attackers lying in wait as my feet pounded over the ground.

I reached the back garden fence bordering the house and leaned against it, bowing over to catch my breath. Then I edged slowly around the side. I peered around the corner to survey the street in front of the house. It all looked quiet. There was no sign of anyone.

Then an engine sounded somewhere close by, followed by another.

Dark shapes with no headlights roared up the street. Three black Mercedes SUVs sped towards the house and screeched to a halt in front of it. Out jumped seven figures in body armour, who carried handguns and rifles with sights and suppressors. They trained their weapons on me and motioned to me to get down on the ground.

My instincts told me it was so dark they probably hadn’t seen what I was carrying.

They were moving like they knew they’d cornered me.

I couldn’t get caught.

My heart pounded as I came to a sudden decision.

I did the one thing I could think of.

I grabbed one of the assault rifles – and opened fire.

Sitting Duck

We’d been found. The house wasn’t safe. Just sitting there, I felt like a sitting duck. I wished we had more cameras. By the time any attackers got to where the cameras were positioned, it was going to be too late for me anyway.

I pulled everything out of the go-bag and examined it all.

There was a map and a programmed SatNav showing the route to the address in North London I was to head to next. A set of instructions to destroy all the computers and hard drives upstairs. A bulletproof vest. A loaded Glock 17 with suppressor. Night vision goggles. Some smoke and flash bang grenades.

In my hands, most of it was an accident waiting to happen. Fat chance it was going to save my life in the face of a team of professional killers.

It occurred to me then that the person who left the manuscript had nothing to do with those coming to kill me. Funny. Right then, someone who had broken into the house without us knowing was the least of my problems.

I put some stuff in the boot of the car and got things ready for a quick getaway.

I paced.

I ate.

I peered through every window.

I watched the security cameras.

I had to see what was out there.

Leaving the lights on and making sure everything was locked, I slipped out the front door with the bulletproof vest on under my jacket and wandered along the same route as before – down the street running across the front of the house, down the narrow track, over the fence and into the woods behind the back garden.

In a way, I was probably safer outside, because the attackers would be drawn to the house.

I kept going, trudging through the trees, heading away from the house. I followed a well-trodden path I had used plenty of times before, where I knew I could walk quietly without a load of noise from cracking twigs and rustling leaves underfoot.

My skin prickled suddenly.

I stopped dead. I glanced around me – then darted behind the nearest tree.

My pulse hammered through my bones. My lungs wanted to gasp for breath. But I held it all in and breathed as quietly as I could. There was no sign of anyone about. But something felt wrong.

I’ve developed this sixth sense. I can feel when someone is watching me. Now I was experiencing something else – a sense of danger. My newfound ability was evolving.

I ventured forward, moving from tree to tree, stopping and looking around me before moving on – until my sense of danger throbbed through my skull like silent alarm.

The night vision glasses Six had left me were in my jacket pocket. The Glock 17 was shoved in my belt, pressing against my lower back. I put on the night vision goggles. I waited. I listened, straining to catch the slightest sound.

A twig cracked, making me jump out of my skin.

I ducked down to a crouching position and peered around the tree.

My eyes caught a movement at the far edge of my vision.

And another.

And another.

Then there were five figures moving in my direction, picking their way through the undergrowth and the trees. Three of them carried guns – not 9mm handguns like mine, but automatic assault rifles. Not a fair fight.

 

 

Suspected Existence

“Members of the security services are already beginning to suspect your existence and the work of your organisation,” Wolsingham said. He gave a sneering laugh. “Mondial. But they are unaware of mine and I need it to stay that way.”

“It is my understanding that there is a specialised agency dedicated to bringing you down.”

“Not for much longer,” Wolsingham replied. “As no one else knows about them, their demise won’t even make page 11 of the Evening Standard.” Wolsingham finished his tea, dabbed his mouth with a serviette and got to his feet. “I need the writer taken care of. In return, my people will provide assistance when you need it. I hope you gleaned everything you needed to with this visit.”

“I did,” Hoyer smiled. “And Jason Rybak will be dead before his first book charting the exploits of your people hits the internet.”

Me

I slammed my laptop shut and bowed over in my chair, trying to suppress the urge to vomit. Two of the most dangerous men in the world, never mind just the UK, and I was their next topic of discussion.

I took a deep breath and read on.

“Jason Rybak,” Wolsingham said. “The second people start taking the content of his work more seriously, we will both be in trouble.”

“I attempted to have him killed,” Hoyer replied. “As I know you did.”

Wolsingham scowled.

“But he has help,” Hoyer continued. “I know nothing about this helper. None of my people have even seen his face. But their accounts suggest he belongs more to your world than mine.”

The Bulletproof woman

jason ryback bullet point for blog

The flyer couldn’t deflect our bullets himself. He had to stay behind the shimmering cloud to make sure he didn’t get shot.

Six and I turned and ran. Six looked over his shoulder every few steps and fired another shot. Then he reloaded so quickly I almost missed it.

We were getting away.

A second figure leapt in front of the flyer. I could tell it was a woman. Like the flyer, she wore a mask and was dressed in all black. The shimmering air burst out from between her hands. As she moved in front of the flyer, the shimmering air enveloped them both like a shield. Once they were both protected, she ran at us, the flyer hovering behind her.

Six gave up trying to shoot them and we ran for it. We reached the last rows of graves. I glanced over my shoulder. They were still right behind us. The one wielding the bulletproof shield pushed her hands together, making a bright burst of power. She flung a blast out of her shield. The force hit me in the shoulder and blew me off my feet.

The Bulletproof Flying Man

jason ryback bullet point for blog

Six and I backed away through the gravestones. The dark figure flew after us.

We changed direction, turned and ran, aiming for the back of the graveyard and the meadow beyond.

The dark figure veered in the air, sinking until his feet nearly touched the ground, then took off after us.

We ran hard, but the flying figure was catching us up with evey stride we made. Six pulled his gun, turned and fired two silenced shots at him.

The air shimmered in front of the flyer. The bullets zipped into the shimmering air and deflected into the night.

Six fired again.

The air concentrated into a glimmering, silvery cloud. The bullets ricocheted away. We backed away as Six kept firing. The bullets didn’t get near the flyer.

My eyes caught a shimmer to the flyer’s right. He wasn’t the one deflecting the bullets. Someone else was doing it for him.

Six Takes the Wheel

jason ryback bullet point for blog

I stared in wide-eyed horror at the van tearing right at us. The car behind moved right up until it was almost touching the back bumper. We were heading for a collision. The bars on the front of the van would crush us inside the car.

Gripping the wheel, I froze. I didn’t know what to do.

“Move over.”

Six grabbed the wheel. Before I knew it, he was driving and I was scrambling into the passenger seat.

He slowed right down. The car behind bumped into the back of us. Six swung left. The driver behind followed. The van altered its trajectory to charge right at us.

Then Six jammed his foot down and accelerated.

Ten-Digit Code

jason ryback bullet point for blog

The iron gate was floor to ceiling, stretching across the entrance and exit. There was no way of climbing over or breaking in.

“Now what?” Six demanded.

I stared helplessly at the gate. Did Silas think it would be open – or did he have some way to get us in?

My phone vibrated. A text from Silas.

“You’ll be needing this.”

His next text was a ten-digit number.

What was that for?

Then Six pointed to a keypad set in the wall. I typed in the number Silas had sent and the iron gate slid back.

I led the way inside the carpark, suddenly realising I had no idea what I was looking for. The text came.

“You’re looking for a grey Audi S3.”

Quick and Impossible

jason ryback bullet point for blog

“So it wasn’t you who pulled me out of the van?” I asked Six.

“I was on a rooftop,” Six replied. “It must have been the same person I’d shot at before.

One of them got mixed up in our first shootout. Didn’t end well for him. But I knew then that they were coming for you.” Six shook his head. “I saw him from the rooftop. So quick.” He shot me another look. “He could do things – things that should’ve been impossible. I tried shooting at him anyway and I still couldn’t hit him. He pulled you from the van without touching you.”

“Did you get a look at him?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t know him if he passed us on the street right now.”