Harry Kincaid is a good guy. Well, I guess that depends on your point of view. He’s one that you would want on your side in a bar fight, a street fight, a dog fight, a… you get the idea.
He was raised in a tough neighborhood in the East Bay area of northern California. His father was an academic at Berkeley and was more likely immersed in some inane study of the dietary patterns of wood beetles than paying any attention to Harry or his younger brother Sam. His mother, to whom the boys were close, worked as a pharmacist at Oakland General Hospital. When Harry was seventeen, his mother was gunned down by a drug crazed addict while working a night shift in the hospital pharmacy. Two days after burying his mother, Harry joined the Marine Corps. He knew that he was burning with hostility and thought it best to join some outfit where he could channel it in some meaningful way.
Once in the Corps, Kincaid excelled at anything involving individual performance or competition. Whether it was an obstacle course, the hand-to-hand combat pit, or a rifle range, he was a star. When it came to teamwork, he was a miserable failure. He soon became known as a loner. He signed up for advanced training in anything having to do with skills in dealing with an enemy at close range. When given the chance, he applied and was admitted to SEAL school, the Navy’s elite group dealing in special operations.
The training course given by the U. S. Naval Special Warfare Command is intense. It is estimated that as many as 90% of a single class may not finish. Harry Kincaid was one of them. The physical, mental and emotional stress is almost beyond description. So, it is understandable why the attrition is so high. But, in the case of Marine Lance Corporal Harry Kincaid, this was not the case. In fact, just as with previous training, on the individual level, he excelled. He would come in first in forced marches, icy cold three mile swims, or down and dirty hand to hand combat. But when placed in a team environment, when each man’s life depended on the help of others, Kincaid was noticeably absent. He was washed out by the cadre of the school within days of completion.
From there, with the help of a sympathetic Commander, he was able to wrangle a cross service assignment to the U. S. Army’s Delta Force. Here he met with the same fate, for the same reasons. His next career stop was Langley, Virginia, where he found a home with the C.I.A. Kincaid flourished in the environment of a lone CIA operative. He went through all of their training like a knife through hot butter. He learned to kill in as many ways as can be imagined. Up close with his hands, or at a distance with whatever was available to him, he mastered the skills of taking another human life. He became fluent in languages such as Arabic and Farsi. These, he added to his street Spanish he had learned growing up. After ten successful years working wherever he was sent and accomplishing anything he was asked, Harry Kincaid resigned when he heard the call: “Tired of playing by the rules? Come on over.” That’s when he joined Oceanic Import-Export, a firm headquartered in Fairfax, Virginia. It was founded by a trio of former employees of various governmental services and agencies. Veterans from the alphabet soup including the CIA, FBI, NSA, SEALs and others found their recruiting slogan appealing.
His stint with the country’s most clandestine organization won him friends in high places. Before leaving the CIA, he was called into the Director’s Office for a meeting with the ‘old man’ himself. The Director, who was one of the most ‘untouchable’ non-politicians in a totally political town, told Harry to keep his personal phone number. He told him not to hesitate if he felt he could use the Director’s help.
In the coming years, Harry Kincaid had done so more than a few times. The Director, a forty year veteran of ‘dark ops’ realized that there were times and circumstances that called for the talents of a Harry Kincaid. And no one else need know about it.
You can read more about Harry Kincaid and some of those special “times and circumstances” in any of my three novels.
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