Entry Point: A Carrie Chronicles Spy Thriller: Carrie Chronicles, #3

By Ethan Jones

Why would a Taliban commander ask for her?

Elite operative Carrie O'Connor survived Afghanistan twice and swore she would never go back.

 

Then, a known terrorist mastermind attacks a police station and shockingly turns his gun on his own men. When the smoke clears, he surrenders, but will only speak with Carrie…

 

Soon after arriving, as Carrie tries to uncover his motive, she discovers a treacherous conspiracy involving the Taliban and the Russians to assassinate the US president. But a cloud of doubt remains: Is the president really the terrorists' target? Or is he simply a diversion for something more sinister?

 

Find out how Carrie will have to work both sides of evil to gain an Entry Point…

 

Reviews

 

★★★★★ "As always, the well written events and dialog, combined with fascinating characters, create a vivid, fast paced story you'll find hard to put down and wanting more! Another big win for Ethan Jones!"

★★★★★ "A very engaging cast of characters with an extremely well written story line makes this a book you won't be able to put down!"

★★★★★ "Entry Point is a fast paced, action packed spy thriller that had me roped in from the first page and full of suspense, drama and an excellent storyline, strong characters and unexpected twists."

★★★★★ "Another brilliant story by Ethan that kept me reading when I should have been sleeping … A great read."

The Carrie Chronicles Spy Thriller Series

 

With hundreds of five-star reviews and thousands of sales and downloads. Each book is a clean, self-contained story without cliffhangers and can be enjoyed on its own.

Entry Point is the heart-pounding spy thriller that will satisfy, with well-crafted characters, captivating storylines, and pulse-pounding plots. If Daniel Silva, David Baldacci, or Lee Child is one of your favorite authors, you'll love Entry Point by Ethan Jones, the undisputed master of spy thrillers.

Scroll up, click, and enjoy your heart-pounding new adventure with agent O'Connor now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Knightsville Books
• Release date: Oct 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386210573

Ethan Jones

Ethan Jones is an international bestselling author of over thirty-five spy thriller and suspense novels. His books have sold over one hundred thousand copies in over seventy countries. Ethan has lived in Europe and Canada. He has worked for the American Embassy and did missionary work in Albania. He’s a lawyer by trade, and his research has taken him to many parts of the world. His goal is to provide clean, clever, and white-knuckle entertainment for his valued readers. Ethan’s thrillers are fast-paced, action-packed, and full of unsuspecting twists and turns. When he’s not writing or researching, you can find Ethan hiking, snorkeling, hanging out with family/friends, or traveling the world. Check out Ethan's website ethanjonesbooks.com to learn more and to sign up to Ethan's Exclusives which includes updates, deals, and a free starter pack.

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The Story

Why would a Taliban commander ask for her?

Elite operative Carrie O’Connor survived Afghanistan twice and swore she would never go back.

Then, a known terrorist mastermind attacks a police station and shockingly turns his gun on his own men. When the smoke clears, he surrenders, but will only speak with Carrie…

Soon after arriving, as Carrie tries to uncover his motive, she discovers a treacherous conspiracy involving the Taliban and the Russians to assassinate the US president. But a cloud of doubt remains: Is the president really the terrorists' target? Or is he simply a diversion for something more sinister?

Find out how Carrie will have to work both sides of evil to gain an Entry Point…

ENTRY

POINT

THE CARRIE CHRONICLES -

BOOK THREE

ETHAN JONES

To my wife.

Thank you for your incredible love.

Table of Contents

Front Page

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Epilogue

Bonus - Unknown Operative Chapter One

Bonus - Unknown Operative Chapter Two

Acknowledgments

Copyright

Chapter One

Kunduz City

Kunduz Province, Afghanistan

The first few bullets hammered the front entrance of the police station in a poor and dusty neighborhood in the north part of Kunduz City. From behind the bulletproof glass of the tank—as Talibans called the armored Humvees wrestled from the local police or military units—Gul Wahidi peered at the mayhem the machine gunner was causing. He was firing an M2 mounted atop the tank, pounding the building with .50 caliber rounds. The gunner was not the greatest shot among the Taliban unit that Wahidi commanded, and many were surprised when Wahidi picked him for this mission. At that time, Wahidi had said that everyone deserved a chance to kill the slaves of the infidels, the Afghanis who had cast their lots with the occupiers.

The M2, a beast of a weapon, was unforgiving even in untrained hands. Bullets were shattering windows, piercing holes in the cinderblock, shredding the thin metal gate cordoning off the building from the street. The Taliban’s goal was to gain entrance inside the police station and kill or maim everyone—commanders, officers, recruits.

Weak return fire came from a couple of the windows at the far end of the building. The shooters were about a hundred yards away. Their small-caliber rounds thumped against the Humvee. Wahidi did not even flinch. Inside the Humvee, they were safe from most of the police weapons. He rubbed his long beard and mopped sweat from his broad forehead with the back of his hand. Wahidi looked up at the gunner, then cocked his head toward the driver, a young man wearing a black-and-white headdress. Drive toward the gate. We should be able to blast through.

The young man nodded. He stepped on the gas and turned the steering wheel. The Humvee covered the short distance separating them from the police station. Then it plowed through the metal gate, crumpling it and tossing it to the side as if made of cardboard.

The Humvee entered the yard, but the gunner did not thunder his weapon. The barrel had gotten very hot and some of the smoke coming from it was seeping into the Humvee. Instead, the gunner switched to firing an MK48 machine gun, light and portable.

Park there. Wahidi pointed at the furthermost corner from the building’s entrance.

The driver frowned and returned a look of confusion. Why? Closer to the door is better.

Wahidi shook his head. Follow my order! he shouted.

The driver opened his mouth, then shrugged and yanked at the wheel.

Bullets struck the side of the Humvee. Muzzle flashes flickered from four windows on this side of the L-shaped building—the locations of the return fire.

Wahidi cursed the shooters and thought about his assault tactic. He was attacking with only one vehicle, heavily armored, but still vulnerable to rocket-propelled grenades. The team had not exploded any improvised explosive devices, although three of the fighters had strapped on suicide vests. Taliban forces had been decimated by the recent government forces’ attempt to recapture the city, which had been in Taliban hands for the previous two months. So Wahidi could not count on too many fighters for his attack. Besides, the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria was spreading across Afghanistan and contesting many areas in Taliban control. Wahidi and his men did not have a choice when it came to asserting their authority.

He also had a personal reason for the police station attack. A reason he had kept hidden from everyone around him. A reason Wahidi hoped he could keep a secret until the end of his mission.

The driver stopped the Humvee and glanced at Wahidi. "Allahu akbar!" he shouted. God is greater.

Allahu akbar, Wahidi replied, although a tone of uncertainty crept into his voice.

Go, run, run! The gunner shouted and began to pound away with his weapon.

Just as Wahidi pushed open the front passenger door, a police officer stepped out of the station’s door. He was shouldering a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, which he pointed at the Humvee. RPG, RPG! Wahidi shouted.

He pulled the door shut and dropped down on the seat.

The gunner squeezed off a quick burst.

The bullets kicked up dirt around the police officer, and a couple struck him. But he was able to fire his weapon. The RPG sliced through the air, flying toward the Humvee. It struck the hood and produced a flash of bright orange light. The explosion rocked the vehicle, which was engulfed in gray smoke.

Wahidi coughed and spat out blood. He looked at the driver, who seemed unhurt. The windshield had caved in, but no shrapnel had punctured it. The machine gun went silent, and the gunner fell from the turret. A quick glance told Wahidi that the gunner was dead, bleeding from his face and neck because of shrapnel. Wahidi cursed the policeman but was not upset about losing the gunner. He probably did enough damage already.

Get out, out, before they fire again, Wahidi shouted.

Bullets clobbered the door and the window as the smoke began to thin out. Incoming fire from at least three positions had Wahidi’s team pinned down. He gestured at the driver, who seemed paralyzed with panic. Open the door. Now!

The young man nodded and moved his hands almost mechanically.

Wahidi followed behind him carrying his AK-74 assault rifle in his right hand. He dropped to one knee with his back against the Humvee. Then he pivoted on his knee and fired a long barrage, emptying almost half his 30-round magazine.

The other two team members were also squeezing off round after round from their rifles. Incoming rounds thumped against the other side of the Humvee. A couple of bullets whizzed above their heads. Others ricocheted off a nearby wall.

What do we do now? the driver asked.

Wahidi looked at the driver’s trembling hands and at the suicide vest he was wearing. I’ll cover you and the others, while you advance. He glanced at the other two Taliban fighters.

One of them nodded.

The other one shouted, Allahu akbar, then fired a quick burst.

All right, get ready, Wahidi said.

He made his way to the front of the Humvee and double-tapped the AK’s trigger. Then he peered over the mangled hood. Two officers appeared at a second-story window. Wahidi aimed his gun away from them and fired a few rounds. Of course, he missed them, and they disappeared inside the station.

Reloading, Wahidi said.

The driver had found his rifle and had mustered a certain amount of courage. He stood up and let off a long volley. The AK bounced wildly in his hands.

Wahidi doubted the driver had hit any of the police officers, let alone killed them. It doesn’t matter. This will all be over soon.

He slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle and then nodded toward the driver. You ready?

Yes, yes, the driver said, but his voice trembled along with his head.

Wahidi thought about encouraging him, but decided against it. At this point, it was meaningless. Remember, don’t blow the vests until you’re inside the building.

The driver nodded and began to mutter a prayer.

Wahidi looked at the other fighters. Move forward, advance.

Allahu akbar! shouted one of them.

See you in Paradise, brother, said the second.

Wahidi nodded. Well, maybe, brother, but not today.

He pointed his rifle at the station and blindly fired a few rounds.

The driver and the two fighters dashed toward the building.

Wahidi stopped firing, even though he was supposed to cover his teammates’ advance.

A police officer appeared at the door. He pointed his rifle at the three Taliban and squeezed off a few rounds. He was probably the worst shot Wahidi had ever seen. The officer’s bullets hit none of the targets, even though they were no further than seventy yards from the officer. And they were moving closer, toward him.

Wahidi shook his head. Time to put an end to this game.

He stood up near the back of the Humvee. Ignoring a couple of bullets that struck inches away from his face, he aimed his rifle at the driver. Wahidi fired a single round that struck the man in the back. The impact of the bullet spun the driver around. He glanced incredulously at Wahidi, then collapsed onto his stomach.

One of the Taliban fighters turned his head.

Wahidi fired again, this time a quick burst. Three bullets struck the Taliban in his chest and head.

The other fighter had turned around. What’s the matter? he shouted at Wahidi. Why are you kill—

A bullet cut off his words and blood came out of his mouth.

The fighter fell to his knees. He shook his head, then with his quivering hand he reached inside his robe.

Wahidi fell to the ground as the fighter blew up his explosive vest.

A large yellow fireball erupted not too far from Wahidi. The blast wave shattered the Humvee’s windows. A hail of shrapnel and debris struck the vehicle, and one of the fragments cut into Wahidi’s right leg. He cursed the fighter and slowly climbed to his feet, using the side of the Humvee for support.

Wahidi kept his rifle muzzle down, so the police officers would not misunderstand his intention. But he thought for a moment and dropped the rifle to the ground. After the explosion, the officers would be even more likely to fire as soon as they saw a weapon. Wahidi also unholstered his Beretta 9mm pistol. He weighed it for a moment in his hand, as he reconsidered the consequences of his actions. But it was too late. He could not change his mind, even if he wanted to.

He waited until there was a pause in the gunfire. Wahidi tossed the pistol by the rifle, then raised his hands in the air and stepped around the Humvee. A spiral of smoke and dust was curling up from the site of the explosion, which had formed a foot-deep crater on the ground. Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! I’m surrendering, he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Someone fired a quick burst. Bullets punched the vehicle. Others kicked up dirt around his feet.

Don’t shoot! No shooting. I’m unarmed. Surrendering, Wahidi shouted again. He was leaning against the Humvee.

No one fired at him.

Loud shouts came from the police station. Wahidi could not tell what they were saying. He hoped they had heard him and would listen. He dropped down to his knees and kept his hands up in the air. Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!

Two police officers burst out of the station’s front door. They kept their rifles pointed at Wahidi. One of them said something indistinct. They both advanced toward Wahidi at a quick pace.

I’m surrendering. Don’t kill me. I have information, important information, he cried out at them.

More officers appeared at the station’s windows.

The two police officers stopped when they were about twenty yards away from Wahidi. One of them said, Open your vest. Slowly.

Wahidi nodded and moved his right hand slowly along his flak jacket, showing the officers there were no explosives underneath it. I don’t have a bomb. I’m surrendering—

Shut up! Don’t talk, the second police officer yelled. And get down, down! He gestured for Wahidi to lie on the ground.

Wahidi nodded and did as ordered. He placed his face on the coarse sand, some of which got into his mouth. He spat it out and glanced at the boots of the officers approaching him.

I need to talk to—

What did I tell you about shutting up? One of the police officers kicked him in his side. Then he slapped Wahidi on the back of his head.

Wahidi spat out sand and blood. He looked up and met the small, dark, vengeful eyes of the policeman. I . . . I need to talk to . . . to Carrie.

The officer kicked him again.

The second officer said, Stop it. Let’s hear him. He crouched near Wahidi and asked, What did you say?

Wahidi groaned in pain. I have . . . crucial information about an attack.

The officer nodded. Our commander will hear you—

Wahidi shook his head. I will talk only to Carrie, Carrie O’Connor.

The officer shook his head. There is no Carrie here.

I know, I know. She’s not an Afghan. Carrie is with the Canadian Army.

Canadian Army? The officer peered at Wahidi. How do you know her?

I will talk only to Carrie. Tell your commander.

The other officer cursed Wahidi. I will kill you. He kicked him again, this time on his leg.

Wahidi clenched his teeth. He shook his head and raised his eyes toward the door. More officers had poured out into the yard now that the attack was over. Near the back, there was an older man Wahidi recognized as the police station chief. Commander, chief, I need to talk to you. Wahidi lifted his body onto his elbows.

Stay down, you dog! The officer struck Wahidi on the head with the butt of his rifle.

Wahidi’s head hit the ground, and everything around him went black.

Chapter Two

North of Baghlan City

Baghlan Province, Afghanistan

Carrie O’Connor peered from behind her binoculars through the windshield, and she leaned forward in her seat. She glanced at the driver, Paryan, a full-bearded man with close-cropped hair dressed in brown shalwar kameez, the comfortable robe worn by most men, and a long black jacket. He had pointed out to her a sun-soaked ridge to his left on the other side of the Kunduz River, informing her of a potential Taliban position. Paryan, I don’t see anything.

Maybe they’ve cleared out of this area, said Fazlullah from the back seat.

Paryan shook his head. He looked at Carrie and gestured over her shoulders. Most likely, they moved to new, better positions.

She looked in that direction. A tall ridge, similar to the one on the left, stretched for a mile. A cluster of cinderblock shacks lay at the bottom. Carrie studied the ridge and found similar shacks at two other locations, about halfway up the ridge. She judged the distance from the road to those locations to be about a mile and a half.

Fazlullah said, There hasn’t been a Taliban attack in over a week, since the assault against the police station in Kunduz City. They’re losing ground and are in retreat.

Paryan shook his head again. I wouldn’t be so sure. These so-called ‘retreats’ happen every year—well, more than that. The truth is that the Taliban never die.

Carrie looked at Paryan, her guide in this mission and trusted contact. Who’s right? Probably both. Fazlullah is the voice of youth and hope. Paryan brings the pessimistic view of experience. He had been working as an asset for the Canadian Intelligence Service over the last ten years. Paryan had provided more than actionable intelligence. He routinely guided or escorted CIS teams to their destinations and was often involved in fierce firefights against the Taliban, ISIS, or tribal warlords. Ever since Paryan had saved the lives of two wounded Canadian Army soldiers who had been separated from their platoon, he had become almost irreplaceable.

Carrie was not sure about Fazlullah. The twenty-three-year-old man had been introduced to the CIS Kabul Station by Paryan. He had described the young man as brave, smart, and above all, well-connected among the northern Afghanistan tribes. He was the son of a powerful and well-respected tribal leader, a relationship that came in very handy to Canadian covert operatives traveling in these deadly deserts. But Carrie did not fully trust Fazlullah. She had not seen him in action and had only met him yesterday in Kabul when planning this insertion. While Paryan was privy to most details of Carrie’s operation, all Fazlullah knew was that the foreign operative needed safe passage to Kunduz City.

Paryan turned the steering wheel gently, and the battered-looking grayish Toyota SUV followed the road twisting alongside the meandering of the Kunduz River.

Fazlullah shifted in his seat. There was a time when we lived without the Taliban plague. That time will come again.

Paryan shrugged. Maybe, but not while we draw breath.

Carrie thought about jumping in with her thoughts, but decided against it. She listened for a couple of minutes as Paryan and Fazlullah debated the merits of different tactics and strategies on how to eradicate the Taliban plague from the land. Then she shrugged and closed her eyes, resting them and her mind for a moment. She thought about the last time she had been in this area. It was in June nine years ago. Carrie was on her second tour of duty in the country, before she had signed with the CIS. She was a part of Joint Task Force Two, the elite counter-terrorism unit of the Special Operation Forces. As one of their best snipers, she was assigned to operations to eliminate warlords or Taliban commanders.

That fateful day, she was traveling in the lead Humvee in a four-vehicle convoy, when they had come under attack by a horde of Taliban. The enemy had engaged the small Canadian force with heavy machine guns and rocket-propelled grenades. Although outnumbered, Carrie and her teammates had withstood the Taliban, then pushed them back to the hills. The Canadians had suffered only two casualties, while the enemy had left more than twenty dead bodies on the battleground.

Carrie drew in a deep breath and glanced through the window. She peered again through the binoculars, trying to stifle an eerie feeling that had begun to simmer in her stomach. Is it my gloomy memories? Or are there Taliban hiding among those hills? This area had seen some violent fighting about a month ago between the Afghan National Army and ISIS fighters. Carrie cursed the recent developments. ISIS had spread its tentacles and was fighting the Taliban to control many areas that had always been the latter’s strongholds. While Carrie did not mind the two monsters tearing at each other’s throats, she worried about the aftermath. The winner would turn its sights against the Afghan government

Reviews for Entry Point

[Chris · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I’ve read a lot of Ethan Jones books, including many from this series, and this one is my (current!) favourite. The author knows how to write a tense story full of action and excitement and does so each and every time he gives us a new book. This time the story is as good as anything he’s written before. We have a story featuring some unpleasant people and some dangerous action scenes but somehow the author manages to keep things ‘clean’ without profanity and gratuitous violence, which I know is important to a lot of readers. This story flies by and I was hooked from page one. Another excellent action thriller from an author at the top of his game.