Zeb Carter by Ty Patterson

Zeb Carter by Ty Patterson

Author:Ty Patterson [Patterson, Ty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-04T09:19:58+00:00


‘I do.’ Zeb meant it. He had started over in his life. More than once.

Bidar hugged him and patted him on the back.

A message from Kilmer was waiting for him at his Jeep.

I’ll talk to the catering team.

Zeb knew what that meant. Kilmer would let the American forces in Bagram and Kandahar know about the Delta operatives. A recovery team would be sent when possible.

The venue’s decorated badly, he typed. Which meant that the terrain was inhospitable.

It looked like the colonel was awake because the reply came swiftly.

Got it. Let’s cancel the party. No point in proceeding.

Zeb’s fingers hovered over the buttons. He knew his response. He was thinking of how best to express it.

I’ll let the other guests know.

No need. They’ll understand, Kilmer messaged promptly.

It’s courtesy, Zeb wrote back, knowing the officer would understand.

The sat phone buzzed. Number hidden.

Zeb didn’t answer, letting it vibrate.

He knew what he would do.

He had come to Badakshan to rescue the Delta operatives.

He would go home only after killing Atash Mohammed.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I could go back to Sori , Zeb thought as he drove the Jeep in his Sher disguise.

He was heading to the island bazaar to see if Mohammed’s men were around.

Having seen the village, it’ll be difficult to find Mohammed. I don’t know if that man I saw was the warlord.

No, he would have to draw the terrorist out and that meant the return of Sher, the buyer.

At the same time, I’ll hit these Taliban wherever I find them. I’ll stir trouble between Malek and Mohammed. Do anything I can … and Mohammed will come hunting.

Badakshan was large. Big enough for him to operate like a guerrilla fighter. He had to act fast, however.

Nine days left before the coalition attack .

The bazaar was bustling when he arrived. He surveyed it for a while, standing behind a group of old men who talked of weather and crops.

No armed men were visible.

He went deeper inside, past the stage, his senses sharpening when he spotted two men in front of the hut.

Both armed. Neither of them was from his previous encounter.

He approached them boldly, noting the way they stiffened and looked at each other.

He lowered his shemagh so they could see his face.

‘Whose men are you?’ he asked them roughly.

‘Who are you? Get out,’ one of them replied. Equally rudely.

‘I am Sher. You’ve heard of me?’

They shifted on their feet, looking uneasy. They had.

‘Whose men are you?’

‘Go away.’ The speaker summoned his courage and took a step forward, his hands clutching his AK.

Zeb backhanded him. A blow that looked casual but carried the full force of his body.

The Taliban man collapsed like a sack. His weapon clattered to hard concrete.

‘Whose men are you?’ Zeb repeated emotionlessly, drilling the second man with his eyes.

‘Hafiz,’ the gunman said, and licked his lips.

‘You have buyers coming?’

A nod.

Zeb picked up the fallen man’s AK and shoved the standing guard towards the hut.

‘Show me.’

‘You can’t …’

Zeb slapped his face. The guard staggered. His face turned red. He grabbed his weapon, but collapsed when Zeb’s fist landed in his belly.



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