Murder at the National Cathedral by Margaret Truman

Author:Margaret Truman [Truman, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8041-5283-9
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

A Boeing 707 with U.S. NAVY painted on its tail banked over Annapolis and picked up a compass heading of 225 degrees until entering the airspace of Andrews Air Force Base. The navy lieutenant commander at the controls received permission to land, and soon the four-engine aircraft taxied up to a long gray limousine with tinted windows. A boarding ramp was rolled to the side of the plane. The door opened, and two uniformed military personnel came down the steps, followed by a gray-haired man wearing a tweed suit and carrying a tan raincoat over his arm who seemed to lean slightly to his left as he walked. A naval officer who’d been in the limousine approached the visitor when he reached the bottom of the steps and extended his hand.

“Captain Ely, U.S. Navy, Mr. Leighton. Hope your flight was smooth.”

“Yes, quite,” Leighton said. “Damned foggy in London. Wondered if we’d get off.”

Captain Ely escorted the assistant director of MI5’s “B” Division to the limousine, and climbed into the backseat with him. The driver had received his instructions before the plane’s arrival and immediately drove off, taking Maryland Highway 4, also called Pennsylvania Avenue S.E. He stayed on the road after crossing the District of Columbia line until they reached the historic Washington Navy Yard on the Anacostia River, a seventy-five-acre spread known for much of its history as the Naval Gun Factory; it dated back to President John Adams’s purchase of the site in 1799. They drove along narrow roads defined by old gray stone buildings, past the Navy Memorial Museum, one of the longest buildings in the world, and past the Marine Corps Museum and Submarine Museum before pulling up in front of an administration building. Their credentials were checked at a desk inside the door, and a phone call was made. “You can go up now,” Leighton and Ely were told. A few minutes later they entered the office of Rear Admiral Stuart Zachary, chief of operations for Naval Investigative Services. With him were Rudolph Kapit of the FBI’s counterespionage division, CIA representative Robert Wilson, and Louis Malvese of the State Department’s European Section.

“Good of you to send a plane for me,” Leighton said after Ely had left and the others had settled around a large circular table in a corner of the spacious office.

“We appreciate your agreeing to come on such short notice, Mr. Leighton,” Admiral Zachary said. “We thought it was important enough to do whatever we could to expedite this meeting, especially in light of the death of Reverend Priestly in Buckland.”

“Yes. Tragic affair,” Leighton said. “The local authorities have been most cooperative. We’re receiving daily reports on the progress of their investigation.”

“That’s good,” Zachary said.

“How long can you stay in Washington, Mr. Leighton?” the FBI’s Kapit asked.

“That depends entirely upon you,” Leighton responded. “I’m here at your request.”

Malvese, of State, a short, square man with a pugnacious face, said, “I don’t think this meeting would have been necessary if recent events hadn’t occurred. There seem to be a lot of loose ends—too many of them, for my taste, to let them slide.

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