Murder at the Pentagon by Margaret Truman Read Free Book Online

one of the civilian administrators said.
    Margit closed the door to her office. She had a half hour to kill—
spend
is more like it—before going to a meeting of DACWITS, the Defense Advisory Committee on Women in the Service, which was being held in one of the building’s auditoriums. Margit had joined the organization at Lowry and intended to stay active. Early in her air-force career, she’d questioned the wisdom of getting involved with organizations that stood for women’s rights in a predominately male domain—220,000 women on active duty worldwide, 11 percent of America’s military force—and growing in proportion each year since those 1991 figures. But she’d soon got over those feelings. While career opportunities for women in the service had improved over the years, there were still areas of male prejudice that Margit felt should be corrected, not only in the interest of a more unified service, but out of fairness. She certainly was not, nor had she ever been, a strident feminist. She liked the fact that there were two sexes, and that they were set apart by defined physiological and psychological factors. But
la différence
shouldn’t have any impact upon the ability of members of either sex to do their jobs to the best of their ability, and to be compensated unequivocally. The military’s prohibition on women engaging in any combat role had not only, in Margit’s opinion, been wrong, it was hypocritical. She knew the helicopter missions she’d flown in Panama placed her in extremely dangeroussituations. She knew other women who’d flown missions in Vietnam and in the Persian Gulf that exposed them daily to every bit as much peril as their male counterparts. She recognized the concerns, even the considerations, that had led to such a prohibition. But times had changed—the world had changed—and it was time to recognize that every man and woman in uniform was in it together and should share the risks together. Differences could be dealt with.
    She’d packaged up materials to take home to read, and was about to leave the office when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she said.
    A young lieutenant with a boyish face poked his head around the door. Max Lanning was a personal aide to the general counsel. A horse-holder, as young officers were called when their duty was to serve the personal whims of purple suiters. He and Margit had liked each other from her first day there. Among many things she enjoyed about him was his simple, wide-eyed awe at working in the Pentagon. He was also an incorrigible snoop and gossip, and a great deal of the semi-facts Margit had been privy to had come from him.
    “Hey, big news, Major,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door.
    “Really? They’re changing the menu in the cafeterias? No more mystery meats?”
    “Nah, nothing that important,” he said, grinning. He lowered his voice. “The word is that they’re about to come down with a suspect in the Joycelen murder.”
    “That
is
big news,” Margit said. “Any idea who it is?” While she found the rumor interesting, it also sent a twinge of apprehension through her. It was bound to be someone involved with the Pentagon, possibly a uniformed member of the military. She didn’t like that.
    “No name yet, but I hear it’s an officer out of CIA.”
    “CIA?” Margit’s screwed-up face reflected her puzzlement.
    “Some liaison officer. That’s all I know—I think they’re planning to break the news in the morning.”
    Margit exhaled, causing a faint whistle. “You’re sure they’re that close to announcing it?”
    Lanning shrugged. “I’ve given you everything I know, Major.”
    “I doubt that, Max. But you’ve given me quite a lot,” she said. “Well, have to run to a meeting.”
    He looked at his watch. “The day is over.”
    “Not for the hardy. Thanks for the gossip, Lieutenant. See you in the A.M.”

5
    Margit got back to Bolling too late for the weeknight social hour at