The Child Taker & Slow Burn Read Online Free PDF

your unit.”
    “Roger that, are there any more details from the pictures on the souk?”
    “There are two men with a fifty calibre on a technical at the main gate. The others are either inside or on top of the walls.” The Major noticed a shadow moving at the rear of the building near the market wall. “Wait a minute.”
    Tank moved with his men through the dusty alleyways and empty streets. There wasn’t a single building intact, let alone occupied. This sector of Mogadishu was completely deserted. The families that once lived there, were born there, educated there, married there and ultimately kept the wheel of civilisation turning there, had long since fled the violence.
    “There is one x-ray on the north wall of the souk. I can’t see him fully, so I’m presuming that he’s in a doorway. He seems to be sheltering from the sun, but it looks like he’s a sentry,” the Major explained.
    “Roger that. That’s our way in.” Tank clicked the coms unit twice to signal that they were now approaching bandit country and he could no longer safely speak aloud. He could hear the familiar drumming of a helicopter engine in the far distance. He could also hear the distinctive rattle of AK-47 machineguns. The militias on the ground were emptying magazines of nine millimetre bullets into the sky, despite the fact that by the time they had realised what it was that was flying over them, it was too late to fire at it effectively. The task force man who was at point suddenly froze and held up an open hand, which was the signal to stop. Tank and his unit crouched low and tried to melt into the crumbling brick walls, which surrounded them. The heat was becoming unbearable and dust clung to their sweat covered skin. Tank checked his men visually, all elite agents, and the very best counter-terrorist operatives available. They had been trained to fight in extreme conditions and they couldn’t be more extreme than this. Flies buzzed around their heads looking for a quick meal. His men all made an okay sign with their fingers to let him know that they had no problems at this stage. The uneven ground and intense heat was putting incredible stress on their bodies. He had to check regularly that everyone was ‘a-okay’. Heat stroke could creep up on a man in this climate and affect his judgement.
    The point man was situated to the left hand side of a ragged doorway. Huge chunks of brick had been blasted away by stray munitions. The point man looked around the opening and then curled his index finger to summon Tank over to his position. The sun was beating down on them through a huge hole where the roof once was. Tank could feel beads of sweat trickling down his back as he slowed his breathing down to a minimum. Sweat tickled his neck and face as it ran from beneath his armoured helmet, and made its way south in tiny rivers across his skin. He reached the point man barely making a sound.
    The point man nodded to the left, and Tank slowly peered around a splintered doorframe. There were two pairs of feet dangling from a wooden platform fifty yards away. The feet wiggled gently and Tank could hear the voices of their owners chattering in Somali. They appeared to be two militiamen sitting on the remnants of a first-storey bedroom floor. The front elevation of the building had been destroyed, which had left the upper floor exposed. It offered the militiamen a good view of the surrounding streets and an excellent position from which to take out rival militias who ventured into their sector of the city.
    The militiamen were between the counter-terrorist unit and the market, and the clock was ticking. Tank pointed to the dangling feet on the left, and then he indicated that the agent who was on point should take care of their owner. He repeated the process with the second pair, indicating that he would deal with them personally. Silently the task force men advanced through the rubble of what was once someone’s kitchen. The air was stifling