Warriors Series Shorts Boxset Books 1-4 Read online

  The Warrior Series Shorts Boxset

  Books 1-4

  Zulu Hour

  The Watcher

  The Shadow

  The Man From Congo

  By

  Ty Patterson

  Contents

  Zulu Hour

  Background

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  The Watcher

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  The Shadow

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  The Man From Congo

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Author’s Message

  About the Author

  Zulu Hour

  Warriors Series Shorts, Book 1

  By

  Ty Patterson

  Copyright © 2016 by Ty Patterson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Books by Ty Patterson

  Warriors Series Shorts

  This is a series of novellas that link to the Warriors Series thrillers

  Zulu Hour, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 1 (set before The Warrior)

  The Watcher, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 2 (set between The Warrior and The Warrior Code)

  The Shadow, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 3 (set before The Warrior)

  The Man From Congo, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 4 (set before The Warrior’s Debt)

  The Warrior Series Shorts Boxset, Books 1-4

  Gemini Series

  Dividing Zero, Gemini Series, Book 1

  Defending Cain, Gemini Series, Book 2

  Warriors Series

  The Warrior, Warriors series, Book 1

  The Reluctant Warrior, Warriors series, Book 2

  The Warrior Code, Warriors series, Book 3

  The Warrior’s Debt, Warriors series, Book 4

  Warriors series Boxset, Books 1-4

  Flay, Warriors series, Book 5

  Behind You, Warriors series, Book 6

  Hunting You, Warriors series, Book 7

  Zero, Warriors series, Book 8

  Warriors series Boxset II, Books 5-8

  Warriors series Boxset, Books 1-8

  Death Club, Warriors series, Book 9

  Sign up to Ty Patterson’s mailing list, and get The Warrior, #1 in the USA Today Bestselling Warriors Series, free. Be the first to know about new releases and deals.

  Check out Ty on Amazon, on iTunes, on Kobo, on Google Play, and on Barnes and Noble

  Acknowledgements

  No book is a single person’s product. I am privileged that Zulu Hour has benefited from the inputs of several great people.

  Pete Bennett, Eric Blackburn, Margaret Harvey, David Hay, Jim Lambert, Terry Pellman , Jimmy Smith, Theresa, who are my beta readers and who helped shape my book, my launch team for supporting me, and Donna Rich for her proofreading.

  Dedications

  To my parents, who taught me the value of a good education. My wife for her patience, and my son for listening to my jokes. To all my beta readers, my launch team, and well-wishers.

  To all the men and women in uniform who make it possible for us to enjoy our freedoms.

  Background

  Somalia, 1992-1993

  In the summer of 1993, Somalia was a country torn apart by civil war; it didn’t have a president and had two major factions, one headed by Interim President Ali Mahdi Mohamed and the other by General Farah Aidid, warring with each other. The war and the resulting chaos had left millions of people starving; malnutrition and disease had killed hundreds of citizens including children, in the country.

  The Security Council of the United Nations had imposed an arms embargo in January 1992 and the Secretary General of the UN got the warring parties to agree to a ceasefire. The parties also agreed that UN security personnel would protect the aid convoys. In April of 1992, the Security Council established the United Nations Operations in Somalia, UNOSOM, to provide humanitarian aid in the country.

  The ceasefire didn’t last long and due to the continual infighting, the Security Council decided to send three thousand more troops to the country to protect the delivery of aid. Later that year, the United States offered to lead the delivery of aid and assistance; the Security Council accepted the offer and authorized the use of all necessary means for the relief effort. The United Task Force, UNITAF, comprised of contingents from twenty-four countries, led by the U.S., got aid moving again, by the end of the year.

  In the first half of 1993, UNITAF got transitioned to UNOSOM II, which would include a military mandate to monitor the warring factions, prevent the outbreak of violence, maintain security at ports and clear mines, among several other responsibilities.

  UNOSOM II had twenty thousand military personnel from several countries, including the US, the United Kingdom, Pakistan, and several European, Asian and Middle Eastern countries. The soldiers were supported by eight thousand support staff and more than two thousand civilians.

  In the June of 1993, twenty-five Pakistani soldiers were attacked by militants affiliated to General Aidid. Ten more soldiers went missing and fifty-four were injured. The United Nations reacted strongly and authorized the taking of any necessary action against those responsible. It ordered the general to surrender peacefully and directed the UNOSOM Force Commander to detain Aidid. UNOSOM II acted on these directives and Radio Mogadishu, which was a propaganda machine for Aidid, was wrested back from the general’s forces and several of his weapons storage sites were destroyed.

  The attacks on the UNOSOM II troops and the aid convoys didn’t cease however, and no progress was made in capturing the general. Early in August, the general’s forces blew up a U.S. Military Police vehicle, killing four MPs, and this led to the deployment of Task Force Ranger to Somalia.

  Task Force Ranger was a group of elite U.S. operatives sent to Somalia to capture General Aidid; this unit had operatives from 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment – Delta, 1st SFDOD-D, Rangers from the 75th Ranger Regiment, choppers from the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, Navy SEALs from DevGru, and Air Force Pararescuemen and combat controllers from the 24th Special Tactics Squadron.

  Zeb Carter was a Delta Force operative, deployed along with Task Force Ranger.

  Chapter 1

  The six-man team crept silently through the night, single file, and reached the outskirts of the village where they halted at a hand signal from the leader. All were dressed in camo gear, had darkened their faces, and carried their assault rifles, handguns, NVGs, knives, spare mags, and other equipment, with ease. That ease came from long practice, for they were an elite US Special Forces team, led by Zeb Carter.

  They were hunting Mohammed Jama, a commander in Aidid’s forces; Jama and his small band of men had attacked several aid convoys and had fired upon the UNOSOM II forces and the Task Force Ranger, TFR. His assaults had inflicted several casualties and killed three relief workers and two nurses. Capturing him had become a priority for Zeb’s team since Jama was fast acquiring a cult status among the militants, and his hit and run tactics were widely being adopted by the rest of Aidid’s forces.

  TFR had received intel that Jama was hiding in a village on the outskirts of Mogadishu, with a small band of men. The village, a collection of huts on the banks of the Shebelle, to the south west of the capital, had a population of less than three hundred. Most of the villagers were animal herders who sold meat in the city. A few of them fished in the river and less than a handful were farmers, since war had nearly destroyed that occupation in the village.

  A few of the huts were thatched, a couple of them were concrete, all of them arranged around a dusty track that ran through the settlement. Surrounding the village was dense undergrowth and trees, with the river flowing a quarter of a mile away.

  Zeb stood in the shadow of a tall tree and watched the village through his NVG. At two am, nothing moved in the village. Zeb didn’t move either, and neither did his team. The rest of his crew was hunkered down in the undergrowth, spaced out, their eyes on scopes, their fingers ready.

  The intel had been sketchy; to call it intel was stretching it, but TFR and UNOSOM II had to work with what they had. All that had been relayed to TFR were a few sightings of a tall, bearded, bald man who looked like Jama, in the vicinity of the village. The man was armed on the few occasions he had been spotted, and had been accompanied by other armed men.

  The reports had to be investigated since Jama had a penchant for hiding in small villages, using women and children to shield his murderous activities. Zeb
and his crew had set out in a Humvee, equipped with their automatic weapons, and had stashed the vehicle a mile away from the village. They had covered the distance on foot and, on nearing the village, had separated, in contact with one another via their radio links.

  Zeb stood for long moments as beads of sweat trickled down his neck and was absorbed in his combat suit. The night was warm, typical of an August night in and around Mogadishu, and the air barely stirred, adding to the heat. He was uneasy, not liking the stillness of the night. It’s the dead of the night, for chrissakes. What did you expect? This is Somalia, not New York.

  ‘I’m going in,’ he spoke softly and got acknowledging clicks from his crew. They knew the drill by now. He usually went in on a recon run, they provided cover. It was risky and ideally, they would have spent more time on surveillance, but the poor intelligence meant that there had to be eyes-on, before engaging.

  He crawled out of the shadows, keeping below the skyline, knowing that at least one in his unit would have him on scope. Before him was open ground, which at one point, long before the civil war broke out, had been lush fields. He crossed the ground as fast as he could, guided by instructions in his earpiece and reached the first line of houses.

  The houses were nothing more than shacks with crumbling walls and broken roofs. He counted fifteen of them, from where he was, on either side of the road. There will be more, maybe another twenty or thirty of them, since the village has three hundred people. He sniffed the air. No smells of cooking. He didn’t expect any, not this late in the night.

  It was dogs that he was wary of, dogs and other domestic animals. There didn’t seem to be any. His senses heightened. A village with no animals? That was unheard of.

  He crawled round the first house, thankful that it was dark in color, providing background for his combat suit to blend in. The house didn’t have a window, just a door, which was open a few inches. Maybe for air to circulate. The coast was clear on the left, as it was on the right. There were houses on the other side of the road, but no movement appeared in any of them.

  He strained his ears. No sounds of snoring either. His sense of unease deepened. This wasn’t normal. He peered down the line of houses as they petered out and the dusty track disappeared into the undergrowth. Might as well risk everything.

  He rose slowly, his weapon locked and loaded, ready to fire at the first sign of hostilities. No hostiles appeared. He got closer to the open door, poised on the balls of his feet and peered inside swiftly. It was empty. Clothing lay scattered on the floor and the stench of oil and grease assaulted his nose, but no human was inside the house.

  He went around the house and at a whispered go from his unit, darted across open space and approached the second hut. It turned out to be empty as well. He raised the barrel of his M16, looking around, but saw no one.

  ‘Sitrep?’

  ‘Clear.’

  ‘Clear.’

  More clears came into his earpiece.

  Zeb raced across the road and went to the opposite hut. Empty. He threw caution to the wind and raced down the track, checking each and every hut. All of them were empty.

  He returned to the first hut and went to its rear, knowing he was in his crew’s sights. ‘Watch your backs. Village is empty. This could be a trap.’

  Gunfire shattered the silence of the night, as if on cue.

  Chapter 2

  Zeb dove to the ground and rolled away, just in time, as rounds thumped the ground where he had been standing. He crawled desperately, seeking cover behind the hut, rounds whistling in the air and pinging off the corrugated sheets of metal that were on the hut.

  ‘It’s a trap,’ Mike, one of his team members, said laconically in his ear.

  ‘Casualties?’ Zeb demanded.

  ‘None. They are behind us. We are engaging.’

  ‘Engage carefully. And also retreat.’ Taking on a force of unknown size wasn’t a great idea, especially if they were outnumbered.

  ‘Roger. There are two or three hostiles at your two, pinning you down. I’ll flush them out. Gary will provide cover.’

  Zeb peered around the hut, cursing himself for not bringing his NVG, and saw nothing but the dark shadow of the tree line. Flashes of fire emerged from it and while he was tempted to return it, caution prevailed. It didn’t look like the hostiles had night vision. They had somehow spotted his silhouette against the hut and had opened the ball. Too early, from the looks of it, otherwise he would’ve been peppered with rounds.

  The firing increased in volume, indicating his unit had joined the fight. Zeb crawled as fast as he could, using all available cover, taking care not to rustle any undergrowth. The tree line was two hundred feet away; it felt like two miles. He zigged and zagged on the hard ground, perspiration streaming down his face and dripping to the ground.

  ‘We have you. Some of the unknowns are quiet. Maybe they’re down, or have run away. There are still others though,’ Mike told him.

  A flare arced through the sky suddenly and landed on one of the thatched roofs and set it ablaze. Another followed and yet another house went up in flames. The night turned to orange, firing increased from both sides as each side realized they had lost the cover of the dark.

  Zeb was fifteen feet away from much needed protection. He risked a quick glance but didn’t see anything. There were still rounds seeking him, but most of the action was between the hidden gunmen and his unit.

  He rose warily and set out on a desperate run, swerving randomly. A yell sounded from somewhere and bullets came his way, thankfully not close. He plunged into the thicket he had identified, raised his gun, and sought targets. He was some distance away from Mike and the rest of his unit

  The fire was at its peak and lit the tree line. His men seemed to be holding their own and Zeb knew they would be inching back to the rendezvous point from where they could hotfoot it back to their vehicle. He also knew they would take down as many hostiles as they could.

  Movement!

  Two shadows moved out from behind a tree, one murmured something and a torch flew into the sky. Zeb snapped up his M16 and let loose a short burst. The first one caught the flame thrower flush in his chest and he went down. The second man turned a startled look in Zeb’s direction, sprayed back in retaliation, and set off at a run.

  Tall, bald, bearded! Zeb ducked and caught a quick glimpse of the surviving man. Adrenaline surged through him. Jama! He loosed off another burst, but the warlord was swiftly making his way between trees and short bushes. Away from Zeb’s unit, and towards the river.

  Zeb set off in pursuit, ducking and darting through low hanging branches, his senses alert for another trap. There didn’t seem to be one; Jama, if that was him, seemed to be running in a straight line and when he reached open ground, Zeb could make him out clearly. Powerfully built, his legs were pumping as hard as they could, a rifle slung behind his back. That’s Jama for sure, Zeb confirmed when the fleeing man turned once to look back.

  He’s out of ammo, that’s why he’s fleeing. Zeb thought of bringing him down with his rifle, and rejected the idea as swiftly as it had entered his mind. TFR would like him alive.

  He could make out another tree line, three hundred feet away, on the banks of the river. Can’t let him get there. He’ll disappear into the darkness. He upped his pace, striding evenly, breathing easily despite the weight of his equipment.

  Twenty feet separated them. He could hear the man’s harsh breathing. Fifteen feet. He could make out sweat on Jama’s head.

  Ten feet. Zeb left the ground in a low dive and went for the warlord’s legs. Jama fell but twisted as quick as an eel, his rifle barrel coming up. Zeb slapped it away and punched the man hard in the stomach. Jama evaded and kicked out with a leg. It caught Zeb on the shoulder and its power numbed him for a moment.