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

back. A heavy-duty report to get out. Can I offer you a suggestion?”
    “I’d be honored.”
    “Be careful who you tell things to.”
    He looked hurt. “I just tell you, Major Falk. I’m the original Tight Lips, believe me.”
    “I believe you.” She didn’t, of course. Just as it is impossible for anyone to have only one phobia, gossips are constitutionally unable to limit themselves to a single listener.
    The press conference was held in the large room used for the Pentagon’s daily press briefing. This morning, augmenting reporters assigned to the Pentagon, who had only to stroll across the corridor from their newsroom, were crime andbeat reporters, gossip columnists, free-lance magazine writers, foreign press, and the producer of a popular network TV show that presented true-crime stories each week.
    The conference started promptly at ten. By ten-fifteen the first reaction to the announcement spread through the building. Like a joke that changes in the telling from person to person, the recounting of what had been said was altered as it traveled. But the basic facts were evident: Army captain Robert Cobol, a CIA officer assigned to the Pentagon as liaison with the Joint Chiefs’ Compliance Testing and Space Division, had been charged with the murder of Dr. Richard Joycelen. The murder weapon found at the scene, an army-issue, Italian-made Beretta 9-mm automatic handgun, belonged to the accused. This was confirmed through the weapon’s serial number. In addition, his initials were engraved in the weapon’s handle. No motive had been established, at least not in the reports that reached Margit’s office, nor was there any mention of homosexuality. The investigation had been conducted by a special unit established by the secretary of defense, and included close cooperation with the FBI. Cobol was in custody at an unnamed location. End of statement.
“No questions at this time.”
    The rain made it impossible to enjoy the center court for lunch that day, so Margit brought back to her office one of the seven thousand sandwiches and thirty thousand cups of coffee that would be purchased that day from the building’s six cafeterias and nine stand-up snack bars. She considered going to POAC for a quick workout, but decided her time would be better spent at her desk.
    Lieutenant Max Lanning was out of the building all afternoon driving SecDef’s general counsel to meetings across the river. He returned just as Margit was packing up to leave. “Well, what do you think?” he asked her.
    She shrugged. “Have you heard anything that hasn’t already been around this building a hundred times?” she asked.
    “No. I had an hour to kill waiting for him and popped into a bar with a TV. They ran the press conference again. Pretty short. Didn’t say much.”
    “Well, I’m heading home,” Margit said. “I’m sure they’ll be repeating it every hour on TV. Have a nice evening, Lieutenant.”
    “You, too, Major.”
    She stopped at Building P-15 before going to her quarters, and worked out on a Nautilus and enjoyed the sauna. Refreshed, she went to her BOQ and flipped on the television. It was only minutes before a newscaster led into another rerun of portions of the Joycelen news conference. The announcement was made by Lieutenant General Morris Paley, director of the Defense Criminal Investigation Service, who’d been assigned by SecDef to spearhead the Joycelen investigation. He was joined at the podium by Frank Lazzarus, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
    “As unfortunate as this incident has been, we can take some solace in the speed with which the accused has been apprehended. A special task force that included selected members of the uniformed services, and special agents of the FBI, have worked round the clock to bring this phase to a quick conclusion. A brilliant and dedicated man, Dr: Richard Joycelen, has been taken from us. I can assure everyone that justice will be pursued to its fullest