Murder at the FBI by Margaret Truman Read Free Book Online Page B

for the rumpled, inexpensive tan wash-and-wear suit just a little too small for him. It was a junior executive suit. “Initially, it was prudent to keep a lid on things until the facts could be ascertained,” he said, “but now, there’s no question that Agent Pritchard was murdered. It’s our opinion that steps should be taken immediately to get this thing off the front pages and the nightly news.”
    Gormley said, “If my orders are to reveal to the press all we know at this juncture, then that’s what we’ll do.” He looked at Lizenby. “Will that hamper or hinder the investigation?”
    “I haven’t given that much thought, Mr. Gormley.Off the top of my head I’d say it might get in the way, but not seriously so.”
    “That’s really not a consideration,” Douglas said. “What we want at Justice, and I’m sure Director Shelton agrees, is to get the spotlight off this mess. Any investigation into the murder should be low-key and without fanfare. By the way, how
is
the investigation progressing?”
    All eyes turned to Lizenby, who said, “We’re in the information-gathering phase of it now. We’re trying to develop a list of possible suspects from which to work.”
    “I know one thing,” Douglas said.
    “What’s that?” Gormley asked.
    “There had better be a complete evaluation of security in this building. Obviously, someone from outside the bureau killed Agent Pritchard. There was a lapse somewhere along the security line.”
    “Exactly,” Gormley said. “A review is already in the works.”
    “Good.” Douglas stood. “Thank you for your time,” he said to Lizenby and Nostrand.
    They stood and shook his hand. “Good luck,” Douglas said to Lizenby. “It’s a most unusual case.”
    “Yes, sir, it is. We’re doing our best.”
    When Douglas was gone, Gormley told Nostrand to prepare a release stating that Pritchard had, in fact, been murdered, and that a full-scale investigation was under way. “Stress that all preliminary indications point to someone outside the bureau as the perpetrator, and focus on the security review we’re initiating to see that it doesn’t happen again.”
    Nostrand left. “Sit down,” Gormley said to Lizenby. “Would you like coffee?”
    “No, sir, thank you.”
    “I think I’ll have some.” He called his secretary, settled back in his high-back leather swivel chair, and slowly turned left and right. He made a pyramid with his fingers, leaned his chin on it, and said, “Well, you heard. We’ve gone from dark secrecy to total disclosure. Your name will be part of the statement we release, which will put the media pressure on you. I suppose that’s good, but it causes me some concern.”
    Lizenby laughed. “Me, too, sir.”
    “Yes, I suppose it would, considering your background with the bureau.”
    Lizenby straightened up and asked what Gormley meant.
    “Well, Mr. Lizenby, I’ve reviewed your file and was struck with how much of a loner you’ve been over the years, all the special assignments without ever staying in one place very long.”
    Lizenby said, “That’s mostly because the bureau found me more useful in those situations and, frankly, I—”
    “You enjoyed it.”
    “Yes. I like being on my own.”
    “Being here with SPOVAC must have been confining.”
    “Yes. That’s why I asked for a transfer.”
    “And Pritchard promised it to you.”
    “Yes.”
    “What about Pritchard? You worked closely with him. What’d you think of him?”
    “Well, I—I respected him.”
    “Liked him?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “Probably because—sir, is there a reason for these questions?”
    Gormley laughed. The door opened and the secretary delivered his coffee. “Sure?” he asked Lizenby. Lizenby shook his head. “Thank you,” Gormley told the secretary, who backed away from the desk, turned, and silently left the office.
    “Okay,” he said, sipping his coffee, “back to the question of your opinion of Pritchard. I would have