The Assassin's Wife

By Thomas Williamson

The Assassin's Wife

This is the true story of the events that occurred before and during the day America's president John F. Kennedy was murdered, but it's only the beginning of the story. This is the, until now, untold true story about the events that followed the assassination. It's the never-before-revealed story, a still-unfolding story of betrayal, revenge, assassination, and, as some might say, treason. All revealed by those who actually know why it happened, by those who know the truth, and by those who know the actual identities, the never-before-revealed identities of many of those involved.

THE HOOK 2

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887938721

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The Assassinand#39;s Wife

Thomas Williamson

Copyright © 2023 Thomas Williamson

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88793-871-4 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88793-873-8 (hc)

ISBN 979-8-88793-872-1 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

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

For my wife, Barbara Ann,

Without her help, none of this would have been possible.

For my family and my guardian angels.

Disclaimer

I have never been a paid employee of the CIA. However, I did, for a period of time, contract work associated with the CIA. Some would describe what follows as historical fiction. Major portions of the following are based upon actual persons and events as I experienced them, as I remembered them, or as they were told to me by those who actually were involved with them. Whenever possible, an attempt has been made to use the actual identities and names of those involved in the book’s historical events. However, some of the characters and incidents portrayed are fictitious. They have been fictionalized and are used to advance the story line and, most importantly, to keep them and their families safe. Any similarity of the fictitious characters and their names to any other living person is unintentional.

The events and information related to local law enforcement, the FBI, and the CIA are in the public domain. And to the best of my knowledge, nothing contained herein remains classified or secret.

The actual events that occurred prior, during, and after the historically significant days mentioned in this book and the US government’s involvement in them have been described as truthfully as possible and, as I believe, as closely to how they actually happened.

Preface

The brown paper-wrapped package arrived without notice at the door of our home in Tremont, Illinois. No return address was on the box-shaped package. However, the UPS barcode on the address label revealed the insured box had been repackaged and sent from a location near Tampa, Florida. I had no idea why the package had been sent to me. I could only speculate why. And after reading the signed cover letter, I still, to this day, would have little understanding of why me without several additional accompanying letters.

Having read the cover letter and having quickly reviewed the contents of the package, I realized it contained a carton of recorded tape cassettes, a large envelope holding legal paperwork, several letters, and three numbered paper folders. Each folder contained portions of transcriptions of the tape recordings, as well as the first draft of a novel.

The recordings covered nearly a month’s worth of half-day interviews. The first numbered folder also had an obvious title. This title, I would later discover, was intended for the book’s manuscript that the three folders contained. The title was The Assassin’s Wife with the word widow crossed out and replaced with the word Wife.

What follows is the first draft of the enclosed novel, a story covering more than seventy years of events. Some events are well-known and some events that until now, few, if any, living persons would or could have ever known. The following cover letter, the manuscript, and the prologue have been reproduced and have been printed as accurately as possible, taking into consideration the necessity of converting some handwritten pages of text to a printed book format, as well as changing of several names and the redaction of several others for the purpose of providing protection and for the purpose of concealing the identities of certain persons to ensure that them and their families are protected.

Cover Letter

Thomas and Barbara Williamson

Tremont, Illinois

Dear Thomas and Barbara,

Enclosed, I’m sure you have already discovered, are a series of audiotapes, as well as transcriptions of most of the enclosed tapes. You will find an incomplete draft copy of a novel, as well as an executed contract between Mrs. Thornton, whom I’m sure you know, and me. You will also find a release and other papers allowing you to modify, if necessary, and hopefully publish the enclosed materials.

After reading the enclosed materials, all will become clear both the reasons and the necessity of why the contents of the package have been forwarded to you with the hope that you will arrange for their publication.

I was hoping that my letter would be a reference for the upcoming publication of my and Mrs. Thornton’s book. Unfortunately, as of this date, the publication of the book has not occurred. This letter serves as a request from me that you and your wife will accomplish what Mrs. Thornton and I were unable to do. Thank you in advance for your positive response to our request.

Allan Strong

Introduction

Allan Strong

She was a best-selling author having just coordinated with a movie studio scriptwriter on the preparation of a motion picture screenplay based on her earlier published magazine series and several of her books. All were based upon a freelance assassin plying in his chosen field of endeavors in Eastern Europe and later in the Caribbean.

Being from Kansas, she was, however, not as some might say fresh off the farm. She was the daughter, the only child, of two University of Kansas professors; was a graduate of the School of Journalism; and had a master’s degree in Western Civilization. Her name was Anne Marie, and as many women her age of more than eighty years, she was also working through her third last name, the name of Thornton.

I was also a graduate, a more recent product, of the University of Kansas, who had been working as a teaching assistant at the university’s School of Journalism. For some unknown reason, unless it was simply because Mrs. Thornton wanted to work with someone who had attended the same journalism school, I had been invited to participate with her in writing her last manuscript, her final novel. My invitation had been delivered to me via a messenger at the conclusion of the last class of the day. It had come in an envelope within another envelope. The note in the outer envelope was from the journalism school’s dean. It simply stated the enclosed invitation presented a potentially great opportunity. The inner envelope contained a note—the actual invitation—and another note that detailed the time, date, and, most importantly, the location of my hoped attendance. For me, a less-than-rich teaching assistant, perhaps the more important contents of the envelope were an airline reservation with its associated ticket and a rental car reservation at my final destination. The only requirements requested of me were that I should be on time and I should provide a small tape recorder of my preference, along with a sufficient number of blank tapes to allow for at least seventy-two hours or more of recordings. And, oh yes, after arriving at my final destination, I would use the name Allan Strong.

Chapter 1

The Start

Day 1

Knocking on the condominium’s front door at the end of a heavily landscape pathway while holding a briefcase containing a small tape recorder and tapes, I stood patiently waiting for what seemed like a lifetime.

When the door opened, standing with the aid of a cane in the foyer entry was an elderly diminutive white-haired woman, no more than five feet tall. Before a word could pass my lips, I was greeted with an offered hand and a small voice, saying, Please come in. My name is Anne Thornton. I assume you’re Allan.

With all the pleasantries and greetings exchanged, in less than a minute or two, we found ourselves seated at what could best be described as a breakfast room table, each with a large cup of coffee in front of us. Ten or fifteen minutes of small talk—mostly about Kansas University Jayhawk’s basketball history—passed before Mrs. Thornton started the tape recorder, saying, Let’s get started.

And within seconds, we did. It all began with a somewhat inane question from me.

*****

I’m really curious. Having read your books the last nearly a year ago, the main character in the three books has the code name Apostle. Is Apostle based upon an actual person?

I’ll answer your question, but this time, you’re getting ahead of things. Those types of questions will have to come later after we’ve discussed and reached an agreement on many fundamental issues. And by the way, this is not going to be an interview for a newspaper or magazine article. It’s going to be much more than a few columns in a newspaper.

Now to answer your question. Yes and no, everything written or described in my past magazine series and my books actually happened. However, many details, locations, names, timelines, etc., were required and needed to be modified due to past agreements between the CIA and my husband Mark. I was never a part of those past agreements, but Mark and I thought it would be best not to get into a legal argument with the agency.

You answered yes and no. What did you mean by saying no? Is Apostle based upon a real person, or is he a figment of your imagination? And if it is based upon a real person, why or how did the character’s name come about?

Apostle isn’t an imaginary name. The no part of the answer relates to the need to have the main character’s true identity not be known but also making sure that the code name that was chosen not to be simply a number preceded by a couple of zeros. I didn’t want my hero to be confused with an imaginary English spy. My deceased husband Mark actually helped me decide on the code name Apostle.

Now I’ll give you a partial answer to your question. But I’ll answer no other questions until we have discussed why I’ve asked you here.

Growing up in a mixed nationality, in Tampa area neighborhood called Ybor City, my future husband Mark, along with his three cousins and many other Catholic boys, all seemed to have biblical first names. It was easy for the group to become known by the name the apostles. Even though the group consisted of nonviolent former altar boys, the neighbors enjoyed calling them a gang, The Apostle’s Gang. The yes part of the answer is easy. The name also grew from a little-known Caribbean island legend that Mark had related to me.

A Cuban communist mercenary, after executing a small-town Caribbean island mayor and his family, had been pursued and cornered on the steps of a small church by one of the good guys. The assassin, the good guy, had put three bullets into the Marxist’s chest and the final bullet between the Cuban’s eyes. The pattern of bullet wounds seemed to match the sign of the cross. It wasn’t long before the local townspeople had begun to describe the executioner of the mayor and his family’s killer as being sent from above, an apostle sent from above, an avenger sent to carry a message to the other terrorists who might be sent by Castro. Over time, as more communists’ mercenaries died, the legend of the apostle grew.

I knew the man called the apostle. His name was Robert Starr. He was—as was my husband Mark—a freelance assassin. The rest of Apostle’s story, my husband Mark’s story, as well as Bob Starr’s story is part of my story. You’ll just have to wait till later to hear the rest of it. That is, if you decide to work with me to share the authorship of my last novel. It’s sure to be a book worth reading. And I’m certain some of what you’ll learn along the way will surprise you, perhaps even shock you.

It’s all surprising to me. I thought I was coming here to conduct an interview. Why did you select me to work with you on your book?

I searched you out, at least someone who had your potential as a writer. After giving the journalism school dean my hoped-for requirements, he gave me your name along with several others as possible coauthors. You met all the requirements, all the needs on my list, except one. A former military dependent, a brat, someone who had the potential to become better than an average writer had been who I had wanted. Someone who might have had a better understanding, perhaps empathy, for a soldier, a sniper, even an assassin, the one tasked to kill in order to protect their country and to protect others.

The original hope had been for a woman to assist me, thinking a woman would have better understood what it must have been like to be an assassin’s lover, his companion, his wife. And honestly, if I had so decided, I would have felt more comfortable confessing the details of my and Mark’s life together, including our sexual interactions with a woman. Allan, by now, you must have surmised, you were the person who most closely met my requirements. The dean of the school told me you were the best of his former students, whether a man or a woman.

It’s said that a first-time author’s best chance of achieving success is to select and describe actual personal experiences about which to write. Allan, I suggest that by collaborating with me, an established author, on a book about treason, betrayal, and assassinations based on actual experiences is an even better way to ensure success.

Would you like to work with me, Allan? Would you like to coauthor a book that reveals previously untold secrets, a novel that exposes decades-old government, CIA, and FBI secrets, as well as today’s secrets? Do you want to work with an old lady, this old lady, on my next book, my last book?

Mrs. Thornton, this is our first real meeting, and it has lasted longer than either one of us probably thought. If after this one meeting and the dean’s recommendation, you’re still willing to ask me to work with you, my answer is yes. Absolutely, I want to work with you, Mrs. Thornton.

Good, we start tomorrow. Be here at nine. And my name is Anne. There’s no need to call me Mrs. Anything. This evening, I suggest you review the contract I’m giving you. We will be making and initialing any agreed changes, then signing and having the contract notarized.

Day 2

Good morning. Come in. I hope you come ready to work. But before we get started, you’re going to get a tour of the condo. While we’re working together, you’ll be staying here.

Please, there’s no need for you to do that. I don’t want to put you to any trouble. You don’t need me as a houseguest.

It’s no trouble. I don’t live here. Our family’s real estate management company owns half a dozen condominiums in this particular community. I live a few miles away. You’ll be on your own while you’re here. These are the condo’s keys and a set of keys to the Chevy Suburban, the white one parked in the garage. One of the subdivision’s security guards will get your rental car back to the airport. And if you give your hotel room key to me, I’ll arrange for your luggage to be delivered here. Here, have a cup of coffee, and we’ll get started after we tour the condo.

*****

Have a seat. And why don’t you get both of us another cup of coffee? I’ve roughed out some notes. It’s not really an outline, but it will keep me headed in the right direction while I tell you my story, actually my husband Mark’s family story. Take your time. Look at the notes over, and let me know what you think.

*****

Sorry. I probably took too long, but I had to take a second look at several of your notes. If a book can be written that describes what you have outlined, it will be explosive. It’ll certainly sell, maybe sell better than your previous books.

You should say, if we, both of us together, can write the book, it absolutely will be a bestseller. Our biggest challenge will be bringing the various pieces together and putting them into an easy-to-follow timeline, putting everything into the proper contexts while not divulging national security secrets or exposing the identities of some past or present agency operatives. But we will still have a few details about how things will work like when to use the tape recorder, what and when to record, it’s all important. I’m glad we’ve reached an agreement on, if not everything, at least enough to get started.

So let’s get started. I’ve given the book, the story, a title. At least for now, it will be one of two titles, either The Assassin’s Wife or The Assassin’s Widow. Allan, you can help me decide which title should be used after you’ve heard the entire story. However, the story needs to be started at midpoint. There’s a simple reason. It’s because I became a member of Mark’s family in the middle of the story. First, I’ll need to tell you about myself and how I met Mark.

How to begin? The divorce, my divorce was final. My marriage of more than ten years was over. But the hurt, the mental anguish, was ongoing, seeming to get worse with each passing day. My first ex-husband’s sexual affair of four years with whom I had thought was my best friend—a mother of an eight-year-old daughter—had taken its toll. The betrayal, their betrayal of my love and friendship had nearly destroyed me emotionally. My former best friend’s husband had been even more emotionally distraught. He had simply taken a walk in a small Boston park, put a pistol to his temple, and pulled the trigger.

For me, every pleasant moment of my past marriage had turned to hurt. It was as if the entire past ten years of my life had been erased, had meant nothing, and had disappeared. It had been more than three years since the divorce was finalized. During that time, my former friend, my former husband’s lover, had died of cancer. Her daughter, parentless, was living with her grandparents. And for me, it just seemed to be a continued life of emotional emptiness.

I threw myself into my work as a magazine writer and as an investigative writer, concentrating on writing about the most interesting and engaging events that could be found. All the while, I was promising myself that never again would my heart be so totally broken. No more, never again would emotional involvement be allowed. Over time, my work life became fairly repetitious. It wasn’t that I was, one might say, celibate. I had more than a few intimate interactions, but I made sure being in love never had anything to do with the relationship.

During this period of my life, once or twice a week, I would visit the public library pursuing older newspaper articles from different areas of the country. I would attempt to identify past events of potential interest, newspaper stories that could be expanded to fill in the gaps, to provide interesting answers to many of the questions that the paper’s story had left unresolved—all in an attempt to find a story for me to write, to give my journalism career a refreshed start.

Amazingly, one day, I found what seemed to me to be the perfect story. A five-year-old front-page story in the Tampa Tribune. The article seemed to have everything that I could have hoped to find. Murder, suicide, sexual betrayal, and a politician, it had everything. And still the story seemed to be incomplete.

Phone calls to the Tampa area got me very little information. Not knowing why, my job, my roommate at the time, my apartment, and the City of Boston were all left behind. A trip, my trip to the Tampa area was the only way to discover, to uncover the complete story of what really happened to a Florida state senator, more than five years earlier.

I had no idea