The Soulless Assassin: A Tear in My Soul, #2

By Robert Tomas

Bob Tokarz has graduated with a Bachelor's degree and is now fully indoctrinated into the world of an assassin for hire. Though he works exclusively for the US Government, his experience with the Agency is surely a brutal method of controlling where the US future is permitted to go. His life as an IT worker, a married man, a parent is conflicted and constantly evolving. At times, his work for the government dictates how he lives his life and affects those closest to him. Desperately seeking to bring humanity and love back into his life, he searches for the love of his life. Ultimately, will his work, at which he is very skilled, or his desire for a loving family life, win out?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Tomas
• Release date: Nov 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215595114

Robert Tomas

Born during the post WWII baby boom in New Haven, CT to parents of Polish descent, Robert followed the traditional lifestyle associated with the baby boomer. After finishing high school in Hamden, CT, he went on to earn a BA from UCONN. Since he married and starting having children while at UCONN, he dashed his dream of going to law school and instead embraced technology that was at that time limited to large companies. The PC had not yet been invented.... While working, he earned an MBA, and completed all of his work on a DBA (Doctor of Business Administration). He has to date worked for a number of technology companies and last worked to protect cyber security for major financial institutions worldwide. Robert is retired, since 2017.On his father's side, he is a second generation American and a third generation American on his mother's side. For his father's eightieth birthday he took him to visit relatives in a small town south of Krakow. What he encountered there was the inspiration for his first novel, My FatherLand. He has completed his second book, Ante-Babel and his third, A Tear in my Soul. He is working on his fourth novel expected to be released in 2021.

Book preview

The Soulless

Assassin

Book 2 of the

A Tear in my Soul

Series

The Soulless Assassin is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, institutions, companies and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, institutions, companies or locales is entirely coincidental. 

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All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, or transmit this book, in any part thereof, in any form or by any means whatsoever, whether now existing or devised at a future time, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

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Certain events in this book, are real and did occur. The injection of Bob Tokarz into the event is fictional.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Working from Florida

Chapter 2: Mission 1987-1

Chapter 3: Back in Orlando

Chapter 4: The In-Laws Arrive

Chapter 5: Court

Chapter 6: Court Aftermath

Chapter 7: Cassandra

Chapter 8: Colombia Recap

Chapter 9: The Divorce

Chapter 10: Mission 1988-1

Chapter 11: Mission 1988-2

Chapter 12: Change the Environment

Chapter 13: Mission 1988-3

Chapter 14: Life after Death

Chapter 15: Preparing to Leave for Home

Chapter 16: Holiday 1988

Chapter 17: Cassandra

Chapter 18: Recovery

Chapter 19: Vacation in Brazil

A Request for Feedback

About the Author

Interview with Robert Tomas

Book #1 – My FatherLand

Book #2 – Ante-Babel

Book #3 - A Tear in My Soul

Prologue

During my time in New Jersey, I learned a number of very important pieces of information that I would never have learned had I not had the privilege of living in New Jersey.

First, New Jersey was not the gateway to hell as many who pass through it on the New Jersey Turnpike believe. There are, actually, beautiful parts of New Jersey. Rolling hills, beautiful lakes, attractive small towns with a New Englandy feel to them. And there are many people, particularly those who live in New York, who view New Jersey as an escape to the suburbs, a gateway to Valhalla, a paradise on the Hudson. So, depending on your perspective and your history, you may have thought of New Jersey as a sort of stopping point on your way to the grave, as I did. What I found was that depending on which part of the state you were in, you may find it to be cosmopolitan, back woods, or laid back on the beach.

Second, if you want something to be done by, well just about anyone, a twenty-dollar bill will help expedite matters. This can range anywhere from a mandatory annual car inspection to having someone help you at a DIY home project store pack your bought goods into the back of your small car. With the twenty, bad inspections become a pass; struggling to pick up forty-pound cement bags and put them in your trunk, becomes easy as two workers come out to load your car. At first, all you get are bad inspections and impossible tasks to complete on your own. Until everyone starts to recognize you as the ‘$20 Guy’, life is difficult. Once recognized, life is still difficult, but a little easier when someone helps. Being known as the ‘$20 Guy’ gets you the help. With ease.

Third, depending on where you are moving to New Jersey from, you may find the prices of houses very reasonable or extremely high priced. Moving from Florida, I fell into the latter rather than the former. Were I moving from California, I might have seen New Jersey homes as a steal. However, with a Florida housing budget, most realtors simply closed their MLS books and told me to look closer to Pennsylvania. Again, the area was filled with rolling hills, beautiful lakes, attractive small towns with a New Englandy feel and homes in very nice neighborhoods I could afford.  Thus, I moved to and lived in a very nice two-story brick home on the Delaware Water Gap.

The house had a library, a wood dining room with a fireplace, a copper kitchen and a keeping room off the kitchen. The living room was the entire depth of the house with a beautiful fireplace and built-in bookshelves. My favorite was the Dutch door that led outside to a raised patio with a roof. On the second floor were three bedrooms with the master bedroom as large as the living room. Yet another set of stairs and there was a sitting room into which a nice sofa and love seat would fit. Through the next door was a bedroom large enough to fit two single beds. This was the nicest house I had ever owned.

The ugly part of moving there was that my commute was at least an hour in each direction. This of course, depended on the weather a good deal. In snow, this was an eight-hour commute.

I was on the road quite a bit for my three years in New Jersey. I was either commuting to my workplace or driving to spend the weekend in Connecticut at my mother’s bedside. Within those three years in New Jersey, my mother did indeed succumb to Cancer. This left my father alone in his house in Hamden Connecticut with a very weak family support system. Though I asked several times, my father insisted he remain in the home he and my Mom built. I understood the sentimental reasons and did not argue with him. He had made up his mind and I wouldn’t try to change it as any effort would be futile.

When I had the chance to move back to Florida with work, I jumped at the opportunity. Neither I nor my family ever felt we belonged in New Jersey. Even though I grew up in Connecticut, the northeast no longer felt like home. Florida felt like home. The opportunity in Florida was not the best position I could hope for, but it was a solid position that would give me the opportunity to finish raising my children in Florida. The movers arrived during a snowstorm to pack and load my house onto their truck. How fitting that we move in the middle of a horrible snowstorm. It was almost as if New Jersey tried to keep us there and make our move away as difficult as possible. My car slipped off the snow encrusted ramps as it was being loaded into the back of the moving van. I didn’t hang around to see if the car was ok. I was anxious to leave New Jersey and call Gerry to tell him I was ready to resume working with the Agency.

I first met Gerry Jones, aka Attorney Gerry Miskovic, while at my first training session with the Agency.  I was straight out of college, receiving my degree only one week earlier. He was one of my instructors for a very intensive training session for twelve straight days. He was a very knowledgeable, yet a demanding, tough instructor. When I first met Gerry, I was permitted to only call him Agent Jones. Only later did I find out that his first name was Gerry. When I moved into the working world, Gerry became my handler. He was the man that would give me my assignments and be the link between the higher ups and me, the grunt on the ground.

One night when Gerry had invited me to dinner at a local restaurant in New Haven Connecticut, I arrived a bit before Gerry and was forced to wait for him. My first instinct was to see if Gerry was already seated. Of course, he wasn’t. My next instinct was to see if the hostess had his name on the list. She only had one Gerry on the reservation list, but his last name was Miskovic. I decided to sit at the bar and wait. As I saw Gerry walking in, I sauntered over to the hostess desk. Gerry was asking if they had his reservation and the hostess smiled and called him Mr. Miskovic as though she knew him. They European style kissed one another on their cheek. I reached them at the conclusion of their greeting. That was my final time referring to Agent Jones as Gerry. From then on, it was just Gerry. Not only was he my handler, but he had become my friend.

It excited me to think I’d be working with the Agency again. After almost a three-year break from the Agency, I had time to reassess my processes and feelings about what I did for my country. I was more than ready to get back to what I enjoyed and what I was good at. Even though what I did for the Agency was at times brutal, and some might consider it disgusting, I was very good at it. I enjoyed the planning, the anticipation, the execution of the plan. It was a lot like programming a computer. You had to be excruciatingly accurate in everything you did. You needed to identify all possible paths that may be taken. What would the outcome be depending on a choice you made, or a variable forgotten? If you saw the detail and the planning required as a game you could play by yourself, you might liken it to playing chess with yourself. So yes, I enjoyed each and every part of the work I did for the Agency.

Early on in my life I heard and felt a sort of tearing sound, a ripping sound whenever confronted with something excruciatingly painful to my sense of morals. When first introduced to racial prejudice as a young child, I heard and felt a ripping sound. As though a cloth were being ripped apart inside my chest. I had this same ripping sound in my chest several times during my life. Each time it seemed to last less time, until I did not hear or feel it at all. It was as though I had completed tearing the fabric of my very soul. Now, I didn’t hear the ripping sound at all. I felt no remorse or pain while doing my job. Now, I realized that I truly enjoyed my job, particularly when I had an opportunity to end the life of someone who threatened my country.

Chapter 1: Working from Florida

I will not go into a great deal of detail on what it was I did for AT&T, or the challenges associated with my work at AT&T. My preference is that I explain those objectives given to me by the Agency and how the team and I accomplished our objectives.

My son and my daughters flourished in Florida. They loved the climate and had friends from our previous home. Thus, we moved back to a neighborhood close to the neighborhood we left when moving to New Jersey. Since I was moving from an expensive state to a less expensive state, I could afford to investigate an Arnold Palmer golfing community. Though the neighborhood was beautiful, the house was only moderately ugly. It was one level, four-bedroom home with a family room and formal living room and dining room. The family room was paneled with the 1960’s popular paneling. The carpet was a poor quality as was the lighting throughout. The exterior of the house had this ugly jagged rock (some call it Florida rock) attached to the front wall and the pillars holding up the portico. I had taken many houses I bought previously and torn out the ugly and replaced with beautiful. My intention whenever buying a house, was to buy an ugly house with good bones which I could make into a beautiful house. 

Between the Agency and AT&T I was much too busy to be involved in any remodeling. I couldn’t count on Lydia to help with coordinating workers or even feed me and the kids if I was doing the work, so I let the house stay as is. I had lots of ideas on what could be or should be done to make the house better looking. Just no time. Lydia was ever more improving her drinking skills while I was trying to further my education with a Masters and a Doctorate.

I called Gerry when I first arrived at my office in Maitland Florida. Gerry, how are you? We haven’t talked since I was living in New Jersey. I hope you remember me.

Bob, of course I remember you. So sorry to hear about your Mother. I know she meant a lot to you. How’s the family doing?

The kids are great. Lydia is Lydia. The job is so-so. What I really look forward to is helping out the Agency in any way I can. How is New Haven? You still up there?

I am. Still have my day job here you know. New Haven is New Haven. It doesn’t get better, it doesn’t get worse, it just gets to be more Yale every day. Anyway, I do have some things you can do for the Agency. Do you have our email system on your new computer back in Florida?

Funny you should ask. I just finished installing it on my desktop computer here in the office. The phone and the computer are both encrypted, so our communications are as safe as safe can be. Do you want to send me some specifics or do you just want to send me an assignment? I trust your judgement, Gerry. If you say it’s good, I’m fine with it.

Bob, I do have something that I think you may be interested in. It’s in Colombia and you’d be teaming with Charlie, Dick and Eddy again. They’ve asked about you several times. I always put them off and didn’t answer where you’ve been. You can take care of that when you see them.

Gerry, that works for me. When are we scheduled for the project?

It has to be done early in October if that’s OK with you. With the early snow we got last week, you’re probably ready to get away from the cold for a bit. But living in Florida, what the hell do you know about cold?

I decided to ignore the small talk and get straight to the point, Ok, so in the next week or two. That’s doable. Send me an email with the specifics. I’m back to using the Orlando Executive Airport, so everything in or out goes through there. What’s the stipend on this one Gerry?

We’re looking at $10k. Is that ok with you?

Perfect. In fact, I was looking at a boat I wanted to get down here. That would come in handy. Ok, look forward to the email. Stay safe my friend. I hung up the phone, not even waiting for Gerry to say goodbye. I had a lot to do with my regular job, so my time was getting to be at a premium. The thought of working with the team again was exciting. All three guys knew their job and I felt safe with them as my backup. I was notified by my personal computer (PC) that an email had just arrived. I switched to the Agency email system and saw that Gerry had sent an email.

The target was Jaime Pardo Leal. He was a Presidential candidate representing the Patriotic Union Party, essentially the Colombian Communist Party. I think he had a family, but frankly I didn’t want to know about his life. I had my objective, and all of that information was not useful to the objective. I immediately understood the need to take him out of the picture based on his connection to Communism. Having a Communist country emerge so close to the US should give us concern. All that would remain between us and them was Central America.

They wanted the project to complete no later than October 12th, 1987. That was still seven days away, so plenty of time. I emailed my acceptance of the project back to Gerry with a request that I catch the private flight on October 5th to La Vanguardia airport, just outside of Bogota. I reviewed the paperwork Gerry had sent over via email. The stipend was shown as $10k and who my teammates would be.  I had Charlie White, Dick Greene and Eddy Black working with me. Since I’d done a number of projects with them already, I was happy. All I needed to do was to get the time away from my regular job with AT&T. I could hypothetically book myself into a non-existent conference for a week. I found a conference in Denver that lasted almost exactly through the dates I needed. So, in a very short period of time, I had arranged the entire trip and set my cover trip in motion.

Chapter 2: Mission 1987-1

On the morning of October 5, 1987, I drove to the Orlando Executive Airport arriving at 5am. Since it was Monday, I wanted to make sure there were no traffic issues that would delay my arrival at the airport. The main issue in Orlando would always be Disney traffic. There was one highway running from northeast to southwest across the state directly through Orlando. Disney resided on the southwest side and could pack the highway making any travel difficult. Traveling at 5am would guarantee that I’d miss the Disney traffic.

I seemed to be sleeping less these days anyway. So the 4am wake up time was fine with me. Surprisingly, the plane was on the tarmac at 5am with the stairs down. As was usual for my flights with the Agency, the plane was a six-passenger plane. For those business trips taking longer than five hours in the air, we would have a plane with two beds. I really liked sleeping on a plane. The turbulence would rock me to sleep. I parked and grabbed my backpack from the rear seat and trotted over to the stairs. As I ascended the stairs, the steward poked his head out, presumably to make sure I wasn’t just some guy getting on their plane. He was quite thin, early twenties, blue eyes and blonde hair, cleanly shaven. Wearing a suit. He must have had a picture of me because he seemed to recognize me, while I didn’t recognize him at all.

Hello Mr. Tokarz. I’m Bert and I’ll be your steward on this trip.

Hey Bert. Is Charlie on board or am I your sole passenger?

Mr. White is on board. Please check that we have the luggage you need before I pull up the stairs.

Will do Bert. When