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

continued to stare. He’d been told over the years with the bureau that his stare could melt a diamond, and he used it effectively during interrogations. It had unglued the coolest of suspects.
    “I do not wish to break trusts,” Loeffler said. “I feel privileged to be here and to have been taken into the confidence of Assistant Director Mack and the others. Please, it is not right to ask me to betray that trust.”
    “That’s not what I’m looking for from you, Mr. Loeffler. I understand what you’re saying, and I respect it. Let’s forget about the nature of what kept you here so late that night. Just tell me who can vouch for your movements.”
    Another cigarette. “Many people, those I met with.”
    “Names?”
    He mentioned three people.
    Perone squinted. Smoke from Loeffler’s chain of cigarettes floated in his direction and caused his eyes to sting. He said, “I don’t think we have anything more to discuss, Mr. Loeffler. I’ll talk tothe people you’ve mentioned and confirm what you’ve said.”
    Perone shut off the tape recorder and slipped a narrow notebook back into his jacket pocket. He glanced up at Loeffler, who looked as though he wanted to say something.
    “Is there something else?” Perone asked.
    Loeffler, who’d just ground out a cigarette and was lighting another, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, shook his head, and said, “No, nothing else.” He stood. Perone came around the table and shook his hand. “Thanks,” he said. “I understand you’ve had a successful stay here.”
    Loeffler smiled for the first time. “Yes, yes, most successful. What a tragedy this thing that happened to Mr. Pritchard. Shameful.”
    “Did you know him very well?”
    “No. Oh, yes, he taught one of the classes I took at Quantico but—no, not well.”
    “Did you like him?” Perone asked as they opened the conference room door.
    “Well, no, there was some trouble. Minor trouble.”
    Perone drew a breath, looked at the German, and asked, “Should we go back in and talk again?”
    Loeffler shook his head. “No, of course not,” he said. He laughed. Perone read it as forced. “It was a little conflict of personalities. Mr. Pritchard was—how shall I say it?—not the easiest man to like. Please, do not misunderstand. I had the highest regard for him as a colleague. It was more personal.”
    Perone decided to drop it for the moment. He’d check out Loeffler’s witnesses and ask around aboutany problems between him and Pritchard. “When are you due to go back to Germany, Mr. Loeffler?”
    “In two weeks.”
    “That’s good. You’ll be here in Washington, here in the building for the next fourteen days?”
    “Yes.”
    “We’ll catch up again. Thanks.” He left him with a remnant of his famous stare and returned to the Ranger offices.
    ***
    Jacob Stein interviewed Walter Teng in an office adjacent to Director Shelton’s suite. Determining the place where the meeting would take place proved difficult, which Stein hadn’t bargained for. Obviously, there was official concern from high up that the Chinese gentleman be dealt with in a delicate and courteous manner.
    When Stein arrived at the office, Teng was there with a tall, slender, professorial man wearing a colorful madras jacket, white buttondown shirt, and bright yellow bow tie. He introduced himself as Hoyt Griffith.
    Stein shook his hand and asked. “Do you plan to be present during the interview?”
    “Yes,” Griffith said pleasantly. “It’s been cleared with the director.”
    “I wasn’t told,” Stein said. “Are you with the bureau?”
    “Yes.”
    “May I see your credentials, please?”
    “I don’t think that’s necessary. Your director—”
    “I don’t want to be difficult, Mr. Griffith, but I’dbe derelict to allow you to be here without instructions from someone in authority.”
    Teng said nothing during the exchange. He sat in a red leather easy chair and glared at Stein. Stein tried to ignore him,