Safe House

I’m a writer. I’m not built for this.

You’ve seen Lethal Weapon. The film, that is. Where Murtaugh says “I’m getting too old for this s###”?

Well, it’s like that. Only I was never young or ready enough in the first place. I’m a writer. I’m supposed to be sitting on my arse writing about car chases and people getting shot and maimed and killed – it’s not supposed to happen to me.

But here I am, sitting in a safe house, which belongs to a twelve-year-old spy. Yep, a twelve year old spy – who carries a gun and who knows how many other weapons as well. I’m pretty sure he’s killed before. To look at us you’d think I was looking after him, but he’s the one protecting me and I’m really glad he’s on my side. But that’s only the start of it. I’ve been chased and shot at. I’ve been stalked, followed and attacked by people who have powers and abilities that belong in fantasy films, not in this bizarre, terrifyingly dangerous world I now find myself in. Strangest of all, I’ve written about all this – or I’m planning to. I really wish someone had told me the stuff I write is real and preferably before publishing. And that someone knows who he is and for some reason, is not responding to my demands to speak. I know he can hear me.

Still, I have some help. Silas, a faceless entity on the other end of a text or email who seems to be some reclusive genius who can do anything with a laptop and an internet connection has been pretty good as faceless allies go. The twelve year old spy is called Six – after the tattoo on his arm – the only name he knows. Then there’s the most unbelievable one. ShadowAspect – a man-sized three dimensional, tangible shadow, who once floored me when I tried to jump him, thinking he was going to attack me. That brings up a whole other layer of complications I won’t go into now.

We’ve been here in this safe house for a few weeks now. I’ve done some writing. I’m also supposed to be hunting down a stash of information hidden by a murdered detective. A hitman appeared in my hotel room and told me he’d kill me if I didn’t. But mostly, I’ve been sat here on the sofa, watching TV, catching up on loads of series and films I’ve missed and pretty much been unaware of thanks to being on the run for so long.

And it’s been GREAT.

Will he kill me, really? I’m a writer, not a detective. And it’s been so relaxing in front of the TV, I think it might be worth it if he does. At least I can get some rest. I’d eat more crisps and snacks, but Six, who is always switched on and ready for the next fight, won’t allow it. He insists I exercise as well. An exercise bike and weights arrived in the post. I go for walks sometimes. But the inside stuff I can do in front of the TV – watching the less compelling series that don’t demand either my full attention or cups of tea and the snacks I am allowed. I’m pretty sure Silas is in on it too.

I’ve spent so long tying myself in knots, dealing with this stuff, being a grownup who can handle anything and I’ve had enough. TV is GOOD!

The things I’ve seen still come back to me. I still write and go back to the case of the murdered detective, but I don’t have any new ideas. Deep down I know there is only one way we solve this – and that involves leaving this safe house and going after the answers ourselves.

Sometimes, staring at the screen, my mind drifts. I wonder what other stories are happening right now. I have some idea of how many there are – I’ve seen it.

Then I think back to that conversation between two men. Two dangerous, powerful men who both want me dead and have the resources to get it done.

Well, they haven’t yet. Looks like I’m safe staying here anyway.

The Boss

A man climbed out of the backseat of the Jaguar parked up the street. There was nothing special about him as far as ShadowAspect could see – just some normal-looking guy in jeans and a blazer – but he strode down the middle of the road like he owned it.

Two men jumped out of the front of the car and followed him. They were bigger and more imposing. I could tell by watching them in the Infinistra that they were both wearing body armour and hiding guns under their jackets.

Their boss strode past ShadowAspect and up to a darkened shop front. He gave a quiet knock. A few seconds later the door opened. All three men marched in.

The Secret Identity of Annie Banks

The Secret Identity of Annie Banks is now available in paperback on Amazon. The ebook is still just 99p /$0.99/ EUR 0,99 or FREE to download with Kindle Unlimited.

After uncovering secret rooms, a stash of weapons and evidence of her parents’ dangerous past life, Annie Banks discovers a bigger secret buried in her own brain – codes, files and deadly martial arts skills, which snap into life when she needs them.

When their parents disappear, Annie and her brother Pete work together to unlock the clues left behind. Pursued by trained killers, they use all their hidden talents to search for their parents and survive a deadly chase in a dangerous world of spies and organised crime.

The Secret Identity of Annie Banks is the second instalment in the Mondial Series, the follow up to Atticus Crayle: The Accidental Spy.

Amazon US: www.amazon.com/author/jasonrybak

Amazon UK: www.amazon.co.uk/Jason-Rybak/e/B0177V508Q

 

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Escape

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Six turned and ran for it. I scrambled to my feet and followed. I felt dazed and a little delicate from being hit, but I just shook it off as I ran.

The farm was further away than it looked. Running in the darkness towards the shape of a group of buildings, I didn’t dare slow down. Glancing over my shoulder, it didn’t look like anyone was following.

Eventually we reached the farm and hid behind the wall of a barn. I collapsed to the ground, my lungs burning. My legs screamed in pain.

“Who the hell were they?” Six uttered. He wasn’t even breathing heavily.

“Dunno,” I gasped.

“They weren’t like ShadowAspect,” he thought out loud. “They were more like the woman who dodged my bullets.” He peered around the corner. “We need to get out of here before any of them see what car we’re driving.”

Six led the way and I staggered after him. He found a barn by the lane leading out of the farm and hauled the door open.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Car doors unlocked in front of me. The lights came on inside the Ford Focus sitting in the barn.

Six jumped in the driver’s seat. I sank into the passenger seat. He accelerated and drove at breakneck sped out of the farm.

Floored

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I landed on my back. Six jumped in front of me and fired a volley of bullets at the shield. None of them got through.

Our attackers inside the shield ran right at us. Six didn’t move. He kept firing. The shield was going to hit him.

A shadowy figure shot past Six and through the shimmering shield like it wasn’t there. The shield vanished. The new arrival punched the shield carrier to the ground. He leapt and grabbed the flyer’s leg, yanked him down, then kicked him, sending him flying back into the graveyard.

He turned and waved at us, then pointed to the farm, ordering us to run for it.

ShadowAspect.

It was really good to see him again.

He couldn’t have timed his intervention any better.

Six’s Driving Skills

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Bullets bombarded the windscreen and the bodywork of the Audi Six was driving.

They clanged and bounced off the car like it was bulletproof. The muzzle flashed. But Six ignored it and drove straight at the SUV. The gunman’s eyes widened in alarm, he ducked back in the SUV.

“Hang on,” Six uttered.

He accelerated. Then he heaved up the handbrake and hauled the steering wheel to the right. The car spun around. I clung on. As the SUV was about to hit us, the front of our Audi swung out of reach.

Then I was facing the opposite direction.

The car and the van had skidded to a halt behind us. It looked like they had just avoided crashing into each other. Then they turned around and set off after us.

We kept spinning until we faced the front again. The SUV screeched to a halt. It had just missed us.

Six accelerated and we sped away. My stomach lurched back into my spne. But for now, I was still alive.