Harm free, p.1
Harm Free, page 1
HARM FREE
KURT HARM THRILLER SERIES
BOOK 5
WES ALLEN
WES ALLEN
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Copyright © 2023 by Wes Allen
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All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
CONTENTS
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
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A Kind Request
About Wes Allen
1
The Pacific shimmered in the late-afternoon sunlight. Sarah and I stood on the edge of a worn dock desperately in need of repair. Strong easterly winds blew up through the Catalina port, making the southern California resort chillier than usual. She threw her line into the water one last time. We’d been fishing for the past two hours but didn’t get a bite. That was okay. We were together, and that was enough for us.
I looked down at my watch. “Time to reel it in. The boat is leaving in ten minutes.”
Sarah stared up at me and flashed a sheepish smile. “One more night. What do you say?”
I hugged her tight and whispered in her ear. “I’d love another night in Catalina with you. Shoot, I’d love one more night in a garbage dump as long as we’re together, but Lamai is expecting us back tonight.”
She laughed. “Do you really think she would mind spending another night at her best friend’s house?”
“You got me there,” I said.
It had been one year since I returned from Bangkok with Lamai. Neither Sarah nor I went on foreign assignments in that time. I even stopped doing any domestic contract work for the Agency. I was offered a number of small missions, but I had enough in savings to take the time off and used it to strengthen the bonds of our newly expanded family.
Sarah and I decided to do one more night on Catalina Island. We spent most of the early evening walking in and out of the local shops. She bought several knickknacks and a sailing painting from a local merchant. I tried warning her that she’d later regret doing so—she was a compulsive buyer, and most of the stuff she purchased on our trips ended up in the back corner of our garage, collecting dust—but I didn’t really care. As long as it put a smile on her face, I was happy.
We capped off our final night on the island at Luau Larry’s, the best place in Avalon for tropical cocktails. Sarah sipped on piña coladas, and I worked on a virgin margarita. I held her hand, and we sat in the bar with a cool evening breeze blowing through the open front door. We were listening to a young man strum his acoustic guitar, covering James Taylor songs.
“‘Fire and Rain,’” Sarah yelled playfully.
I spoke into her ear. “Honey, I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear you. Too many people.”
“Nah, he winked at me when I said it. He’ll be playing it in no time.” Sarah laughed. She often flexed a cute giggle when she’d been drinking.
I waited to see if the singer was going to play the song Sarah requested. He didn’t. When I walked back out of the restroom, he'd taken an intermission. He walked past me in the hall on his way to the restroom.
I stopped him and smiled. “Wow! You’ve got Taylor down. If I closed my eyes, I would’ve thought it was him.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate that,” he replied.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. “You take requests?”
He cocked his head to one side and flashed a wry smile. “Who doesn’t?”
I put the cash in his right hand and said, “Please close your set by saying, ‘This song is for a special friend of mine. Here you go, Sarah. You didn’t think I heard ya.’ Then play ‘Fire and Rain.’”
The singer raised one eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific, but for fifty, I’ll say what you want.”
I walked back to Sarah and held her hand as we sat and listened to the rest of his set. As an encore, he finished his show with the words I paid him to say. Sarah clapped her hands repeatedly, then whispered in my ear, “See, I knew he heard me!”
The bar started emptying out around midnight. Sarah snuggled up to me as we strolled around Avalon’s picturesque oceanfront. We stopped under a weeping willow tree, and she looked up at me. “Promise me we’ll never take each other for granted.”
I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I promise.” I looked her in the eyes. “My life changed when we met. You gave me meaning. This past year has been the best of my life. I’ll never take you for granted. I promise you that.”
Sarah smiled wide, exposing her beautiful teeth. “Same here. I’ll never let myself take such a wonderful man or our beautiful family for granted.”
2
Our boat pulled into port just as the sun was lifting above the high-rises. I made a mad dash from the dock to the parking lot. I hadn’t worked out in a month or so, and it was obvious by the time I reached my car, huffing and puffing. Sarah was waiting at the dock with our four bags. Actually, three of them belonged to her. She and I were polar opposites when it came to travel. Sarah packed heavy and enjoyed participating in things off the beaten path when we were away on vacation, whereas I traveled lighter than a feather and preferred to spend time checking out the main attractions.
I pulled around and threw the luggage into the back seat, urging Sarah on. I had little to no patience when it came to standstill traffic. Fortunately, we managed to beat the early rush hour traffic. Long Beach to Sherman Oaks usually took a good ninety minutes in the early morning congestion, but we got lucky, making it home in just under an hour.
I turned into the driveway and parked. Jumping out, I grabbed a few bags from the back and happened to look across the street. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
Sarah saw the look on my face. “What’s wrong, honey?”
I pointed across the street. “Look familiar?”
She rubbed her face and sighed. “Oh no!”
There was only one cherry-red ’66 Mustang that I knew of, and it belonged to Director Renson. He’d only made a few stops at my house personally, and it was always for the same reason. He had an urgent assignment.
I put my arm around Sarah, and we walked across the street. I hesitated a moment, then knocked on Renson’s car window.
He jumped a foot off his seat and then rolled the window down. “Man, don’t do that to me. You guys could’ve given me a heart attack.”
He got out, and we hugged. My suspicions were confirmed when he reached back in the car and grabbed a manila envelope from the passenger seat.
I sighed. “Let me guess. That’s a dossier on a special guest you’d like me to meet.”
Renson looked up at the cloudless sky. “Getting a little toasty out here. Care to go inside to talk?”
We headed in the house, and the three of us sat around the dining room table. Renson opened the envelope and handed me the contents.
I looked at Sarah and back at Renson. “Uh, where’s her copy?”
“I’m sorry. Am I missing something?” he asked.
Sarah held her hand out. “Yes, you are. If we go anywhere, it’s together. And that’s a big ‘if.’”
“I don’t have another copy. Why don’t you both look at it together, and while you’re doing that, I’m going to use the restroom, if you don’t mind.”
“Go for it,” I said.
Sarah held the document, and we read it together.
Biographic Data
NAME: Farhad Ahmadi. AKA “The Noble Nuke,” “Dr. Ahmadi,” and “Farhad the Fire Maker.”
POSITION: Ahmadi is the head of the Iranian Atomic Energy Organization. He pre viously served as a nuclear physicist and scientist in the organization.
SIGNIFICANCE: Ahmadi received his BS in nuclear physics from Shahid Beheshti University in Iran and graduated from MIT with a PhD in nuclear science and engineering. He joined the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps after graduating from MIT. Ahmadi is responsible for the continued development and proliferation of Iran’s nuclear arms. There have been numerous attempts on his life. The Mossad has denied involvement with those attempts, but we have substantiated their connection to a train bombing in Brussels in 2008 and a road ambush in Gorgan (northern Iran) using an autonomous satellite-operated gun. In both attempts, Ahmadi escaped without injury. The result of this was his being elevated to cult-like status among military and government officials.
Ahmadi is a fifty-eight-year-old male with a burn mark on his left calf and another on his left clavicle region. He is 5’11 with a slender build. He wears glasses. Ahmadi is married with three children. He is known to have numerous mistresses. He does not touch alcohol when in his home country but drinks heavily when residing in non-Islamic countries. He is a tenured professor at Shahid Beheshti University. The teaching position is widely acknowledged by the global intelligence community as a cover-up for other nefarious activities.
Ahmadi usually avoids high-profile social situations and rarely travels to international atomic-related conferences. However, due to recent pressure from the international community, he will be speaking at an upcoming conference sponsored by the International Atomic Energy Agency. The conference is in Rio de Janeiro. You are being presented with an opportunity to access Ahmadi, which rarely comes along.
I handed the dossier back to Renson. “Sounds like a lovely guy. Introduce him to me sometime.”
“If you accept, Ahmadi is your next target,” he replied.
Sarah jumped into the conversation. “Thanks, but no thanks. That is a no-win contract right there.”
Renson nodded. “Ahmadi is as elusive as they come. Your prior targets were like stealing candy from a baby compared to this guy. They were all individuals who were difficult to find but not impossible. Ahmadi is an absolute phantom.”
I cocked my head to one side. “Wait, I’m confused. Are you trying to convince us not to go?”
He chuckled. “I know. It sure sounds that way, and what I said about him is true. But we’ve been presented with a unique opportunity that we may not get again.”
“The dossier mentions the Mossad’s attempt on his life. Has the CIA ever gone after him?” I asked.
“I was just about to mention that. The Agency has decided not to pursue him in hopes that other intelligence organizations would do the dirty work.”
“The Mossad?” Sarah asked.
Renson nodded. “We did have an opportunity to get him a few years back, but Langley decided not to do so at the last minute.”
I leaned forward on the couch and looked him in the eyes. “Anything else you want to mention? Because I haven’t heard anything that changes my mind.”
“Yes. We have solid intel that Ahmadi isn’t attending the conference just to appease the international atomic community. He’s going there to pick something up which will expedite the Iranian nuclear program. It’s a game changer!”
“He’s going to Rio to personally pick something up that will accelerate Iran’s nuke program? What am I not getting?”
Renson shook his head. “Not something. He’s going to Rio to get someone.”
3
“Thomas A. Cole. Ever heard of him?” Renson asked.
Sarah bit down on her lower lip. “Sounds familiar.” He was about to give her the answer, but she jumped in before he could. “He’s the head of the US Nuclear Regulatory Commission.”
Renson pointed at her. “Bingo!”
She had one eyebrow raised. “Are you trying to tell me the head of our nuke commission is thinking of bailing and going to Iran with Ahmadi? That’s insane. Who would do something like that?”
“You throw a drowning man a life preserver, and he’ll grab it,” Renson said.
“Drowning?” I asked.
“We’ve been listening to him for the past eighteen months. Cole is drowning in debt. He loves blackjack and poker, and it turns out he’s no good at either. He has debt no man can pay. The Iranians offered him a boatload of money and a place to live if he’s willing to come help with their nuclear program.”
“He agreed to that?” Sarah asked.
“With a few conditions. His extended family had to be taken care of as well. And Ahmadi had to personally bring him to Iran,” Renson said.
I rubbed my two-day-old facial stubble. “So that’s why Ahmadi is going to Rio.”
“Now you’re getting the picture.”
“So, the assignment is to arrest Cole and kill Ahmadi?”
Renson shook his head. “The assignment is to kill both of them.”
I looked over at Sarah, and she stared back at me. “Can you give us a few minutes, please?” I asked.
He nodded and walked back out to his car.
Sarah raised her hands in the air. “You’re not actually considering this, are you?”
“This isn’t your average assignment. This is vital to national security,” I said.
“Let someone else do it. You’re not the only one with assassination experience. The Agency contracts out all over the world. You know that.” Her voice was more elevated than I’d heard it in a long time. “We have Lamai now, and she needs both of us.”
I reached out and hugged Sarah, but she kept her arms down at her side. “Honey, I’m not going if you aren’t okay with it.” I pulled her back, and we made eye contact. “What if I give you my word that this is the absolute last assignment I will ever do?”
She paused. “You wouldn’t stick to it.”
“I’m dead serious. This is it. I’ll go back into private practice and start seeing patients again.”
“I have a bad feeling about this one. I’m serious. This is an assignment on a whole different level,” Sarah said.
“Lamai will have you at home, and I promise to be back as soon as possible.” I leaned down and kissed her. “I won’t try and be a hero. I promise.”
“Oh no! No chance you’re going by yourself. Together or not at all. I can’t stay at home wondering if you’re okay.”
“Who will watch Lamai?” I asked.
“She can stay with her friend, or we can ask Malorie if she can stay with her. It’s winter break, so she’s still off for another two weeks. Perfect timing, really.”
I hesitated. “I get the feeling that I’m not gonna win this argument, am I?”
Sarah shook her head and then let out a sweet giggle.
I opened the front door and waved Renson back in. He came inside and asked, “So, what’s the verdict?”
“We’re going to do it, but there have to be a couple things we agree on first,” I said.
Renson raised one eyebrow. “Sounded like you said we.”
Sarah jumped in. “You heard correctly. It’s both of us or nothing.”
“You said there were a couple things. What were the others?” Renson asked.
“There has to be an understanding. This will be my very last assignment. I will have nothing to do with the Agency ever again. You won’t ever approach me about another assignment. Do I have your word on that?” I asked.
He nodded and offered his hand. “I promise.”
“The last requirement is financial compensation. I have never been in it for the money, but this is my last assignment, so the Agency has to make it worth it.”
