Codename: Omega (feat. The Apiary Society) (6 page)

Hitler nodded, “Go on.”

“You donate your art collection to Linz.  Objects of sentiment may be distributed to those listed, in reward for their loyalty.  Your other possessions belong to the party.”

“Correct.”  Hitler tapped the top of a stack of papers assembled on the desk, “This is my final testament, to let the world know that I had no intention of making war on any other nation.  As you all know, I was driven into this by the miserable International Jewry.  It was they who brought us to this, not I.” 

All of the men nodded, then Hitler waved for them to come closer to the desk and look at a different group of papers.  “These are my instructions for the Reich.  They are to be followed.” 

Goebbels looked down at the sheet, scanning it quickly.  No one was named as a new Fuhrer.  Someone else was going to be President.  Goebbels was listed only as Chancellor.  He forced a smile and bowed his head.  “Thank you, Mein Fuhrer.”

Hitler eased himself into the chair beside his secretary and covered his face with a trembling hand.  “Now leave me.”  

All of the men saluted Hitler and said, “
Seig Heil
!”  Goebbels followed the others out of the room, but turned in the opposite direction and headed for a doorway at the far end of the bunker.  He knocked quickly, opening it before there was a reply.  “Herr Kunz?”

Helmut Kunz was bent over his dentist’s chair, extracting a tooth from one of the officers.  “Yes, Herr Goebbels?”

“May I speak with you a moment in private?”

Kunz picked up the officer’s hand and wrapped it around the clamp, saying, “Hold this in place, just like this.  The tooth is not out yet, so do not move.”  Kunz wiped his bloody hand across his white coat and followed Goebbels into the hallway.  “What can I do for you, Herr Minister?”

“I need to ask you a personal favor.”

 “Anything.”

“I want you to inject all six of my children with enough morphine to render them unconscious.  Once they are asleep, give them enough cyanide to kill them.”

Kunz did not speak for a moment, only making small grunting sounds in his throat as he looked at the man.  “I do not understand—”

Goebbels clapped him on the arm, “The Fuhrer and his wife are going to kill themselves.  After that happens, you are going to euthanize my little ones.  My wife and I will then leave the
Fuhrerbunker
and kill ourselves.”  Goebbels smiled and said, “I’m sure you understand, I cannot give them the cyanide myself.  That would be unthinkable.” 

***

The
Fuhrerbunker’s
staff and all of their families lined up in front of the Fuhrer and his wife.  Eva Braun moved in unison with her husband as they said goodbye to each of them.  Eva smiled gently when the young Goebbels children rushed forward to hug her.  She ran her fingers through their blonde hair and kissed them one by one, saying, “I love you, so much.”  

“We love you too, Aunt Eva.  And you too, Uncle Adolph.”  

Hitler patted the children on their heads, but did not linger on any individual.  He made his way down the rest of the line slowly, hunched over, muttering softly when he spoke.     

Hitler and Eva waved to everyone and walked together into the Fuhrer’s private study.  Hitler shut the heavy metal door behind his wife and loosened his tie.  “It is time.  At last.”

Eva looked at her watch and nodded.  It was two-thirty in the afternoon.  She took out the small white cyanide pill from its plastic container and cupped it in her palm.  “I am ready,” she said. 

They sat together on the couch and Hitler let out a long sigh.  He touched his wife on the leg.  She put her hand over his.  “Will it really smell like almonds?” she said. 

Hitler nodded, then took his pistol out and rested it on his lap.  He looked down at the weapon but did not move for it.  “No almonds for me,” he said.  He looked up from the pistol and smiled gently at Eva.  “Let us sit here for just a moment longer.  History can wait.”

***

“Eva?  Wake up.  Eva?  Can you hear me?”

Eva Braun’s eyes fluttered open.  A naked man knelt on the floor in front of her and shook her by the shoulders.  She groaned as she tried to lift her head.  “Sean?  Is it done?”        

“It is,” he said.  “I came through the wall just as he pulled the trigger.” 

Eva turned to see the slumped over body of Adolph Hitler.  Blood leaked from the bullet hole in his right temple.  Price examined the Fuhrer’s body, taking a deep breath before he said, “You did it.  You actually did it.”

“I did it,” she whispered.  Her face twisted in disgust.  She pursed her lips and spat at Hitler.  “Burn in hell, you monster.”

“We have to go,” Price said.  “They heard the gunshot and won’t wait much longer.  Can you stand?”

“First, get the file.  It has the artifact’s location.”  Eva pointed at the row of books on the shelf behind him.  “Third one in, hidden between the pages.”

Price stood up and removed the third book in from the middle shelf.  He flipped through the pages quickly until he found a small, crudely-drawn map of Antarctica with hand-written coordinates along the margins.  Price memorized the latitude and longitude as he studied the map.  “Do you really believe they found it?”  

“He certainly seemed to think so,” Eva said.  She went to stand up but her legs wobbled and gave out under her.  “I need to rest a moment.”  

Price searched for a box of matches.  He grabbed several and lit them all at once, setting fire to the map and letting it burn in his hands until the page turned to black ash.   

Eva leaned back on the sofa cushion and closed her eyes.  She sniffed the air and her eyes flew open.  “Sean?  Do you smell roasted almonds?”

“No.  It’s just the burnt paper.”  

She ran her tongue along the front of her teeth and said, “No!  Oh my God.  Is that what you meant, all those years ago at
Berchtesgaden
?  Why did you let me take them?”  Eva’s head snapped back and her arms and legs shot out violently and began to flail.   

Price grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to hold her steady.  Her eyes rolled up into her head until they showed nothing but white.  He called her name several times.  “Hang on!  I’ll get you out of here.” 

Eva Braun stopped convulsing.  Her head flopped to the side and white foam spilled out from her mouth.  Her final breath filled the room with the scent of burning almonds.   

The handle to the study’s door started to turn and slowly open.  Price stepped back from the bodies, staring at the bodies of Adolph Hitler and his wife.  He closed Eva’s eyes, then disappeared.    

***

President Harry Truman picked up the phone on his desk and said, “Yes?”  The President’s face stiffened.  “At the front door?”  Truman cupped his hand over the phone and looked at the men sitting around him in the Oval Office.  His eyes twitched nervously, “Omega is here.  He walked right up to the front door and knocked like a visitor.  What does that mean, Bill?”

“Wild Bill” Donovan scratched his chin as he regarded Truman.  He still hadn’t figured the President out.  The man had a slow, southern way of speaking that belied his Missouri roots.  He dressed like a school principal and sounded like a hillbilly, but still, it might be an act.  “It means you should probably let him in, Mr. President.  He’s showing you respect rather than just appearing in the middle of the room.”

There was a snicker from the short, slight man opposite of Donovan.  FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover shook his head in disbelief.  “I would have him shot on sight if he dared try such a trick,  Mr. President.”

Donovan raised an eyebrow and said, “Not unless you want to have pieces of G-Men splattered all over this room, you won’t.”

“That’s enough, gentlemen,” the President said. 

“Mr. President,” Donovan said.  “Agent Price just completed one of the most difficult operations the OSS has ever conducted.  He lost a very close associate in the process.  With all due respect, let him through the damn door.”

Truman uncovered the phone’s mouthpiece and said, “Well, I guess you can bring him on back.”

Several minutes later, a parade of rubber-soled shoe squeaks filled the hallway outside of the Oval Office.  The door opened and several intense looking FBI agents came into the room.  Large revolvers bulged under their cheap-looking suit coats.  Three of them came and stood behind the Director.  Hoover turned in his seat to watch the door.  No one else spoke.  No one else moved.

Sean Price walked into the room in a hand-made suit, tailored to fit his small, lithe frame.  His boyish face, ruined by a jagged scar across his right cheek. 

The President pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, smiled, then stood up.   “Agent Omega?  I have wanted to meet you for a long time.  Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

“What’s your name son?  I feel foolish calling you that.  We’re among friends.”

“I apologize, Mr. President, but my real name is six levels above your current security clearance.”

“Is that right?” Truman said, smiling. 

“Throw this mongrel out on his ear, Mr. President,” Hoover snarled.  “He has no right to speak to you like that.”

“He’s following orders,” Donovan said.  “My orders.”    

“In that case, let’s all sit down,” President Truman said.  “I would like to hear every detail from you regarding Hitler’s demise, if you don’t mind.  I also believe you have something very important to share with us regarding a particular artifact taken by the Nazis.”  

Donovan slid to the side of the couch to make room for Price, but Price ignored him and sat down across from the President.  “Before I get to that, sir, I would like to know how my operative was given a real dose of cyanide after I explicitly ordered her to be given an inert substitute.”

Director Hoover barked, “Show some respect, boy!  Your President just told you to do something.”

The President held up his hand and waved for Hoover to sit back.  “It’s all right, J. Edgar.  This young man has been through a lot on his country’s behalf.” 

Donovan looked at Price, and managed to get him to look back.  “
Not here
,” Donovan mouthed.  He cocked his head slightly in the direction of the FBI Director.   

Price took a deep breath and settled into his chair.  “So you’d like to hear how we got Hitler?”       

***

The President, FBI Director, and William Donovan all looked down at the place on the map where Price’s finger landed in disbelief.  “Gazala?” Hoover said.  “That’s preposterous.  We were told for certain that the Nazis buried the artifact in Antarctica.”

“Not impossible.  Rommel could have put it there,” Truman said.  He shook his head, “I always did like the Desert Fox.  He didn’t abide all that Jew-killing nonsense.  Moral, but firm and strong.  What better Nazi than Rommel to entrust with a weapon that was said to possess the power to kill God Almighty?”

“If it’s even real,” Donovan said. 

“The entire idea is blasphemous, if you ask me,” Hoover said. 

Price shrugged.  “All I saw written on that page were those coordinates, and Eva said that Hitler certainly seemed to believe it was real.”

“Really?” Hoover sneered.  “Is that what the
Fuhrerwhore
said?” 

Price turned to him quickly, but managed to keep his voice steady when he said, “Right before she realized she’d been betrayed by the people she trusted, yes.”

“I suppose when one lies down with dogs, one should not be surprised to wake up with fleas,” Hoover said.  “In this case, I heard she did quite a bit of lying down.”

“Is that what you heard?  Was that before or after Clyde Tolsen finished sticking his—”

Bill Donovan grabbed Price by the elbow and squeezed hard.  “Mr. President, I hate to be rude, but I need to debrief my man at OSS headquarters.  We have quite a bit of paperwork to fill out.” 

The President had never turned away from the map.  He waved his hand at them and said, “Of course, of course.”

Donovan led Price from the Oval Office without another word, taking him halfway down the hallway until he let go.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.  

Price snatched Donovan by the collar and threw him against the wall so hard it shook the portraits overhead and nearly knocked over a marble bust of Alexander Hamilton.  “Was it you?  Did you have her killed?”

“Get your hands off of me, you insubordinate son of a bitch.”

“Tell me the truth,” Price said.  “Do not lie to me.  I will be able to tell.  I will smell it on you.”

Donovan stopped struggling and let his arms drop to his side.  “Sean, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Who did?”

“I have no idea.  It could have been Hitler himself.  He didn’t trust the cyanide they gave him in the first place.  He killed his own dog testing it out, Sean.  For all we know, he switched Eva’s pill himself.”

Price let go of him and stepped back, taking a moment to straighten his hair and let Donovan fix his clothing.  “Listen, we’re already in a tight spot.  Hoover is making his play to take the FBI worldwide.  Whatever privilege I enjoyed around here ended when Frank died.  I don’t know this new fellow very well, and he certainly doesn’t seem to know me.” 

“After what we just pulled off?  It’s the greatest intelligence scheme in history.  They should be pinning medals to our chest right now.”

“Don’t kid yourself.  We’re part of a dirty little National secret, Sean, and nobody likes those.  I’ve seen men killed for knowing less than we do.”

***

Sean Price stopped and looked up at the roof of OSS Headquarters from the parking lot, looking for the snipers assigned to the rooftops so he could give them the All-Clear signal.  No one popped their head up.

He reached for the front door, but two burly US servicemen burst through it carrying a large wooden desk.  “Make a hole!” one of them shouted.  Price stepped aside to let them go down the steps.  The servicemen dropped the desk on the sidewalk, when someone else shouted “Make way!  Make way!”   A large filing cabinet came through the door, carried by two more servicemen. 

The secretary’s desk was unoccupied.  There were no guards stationed at the front entrance.  Price walked to the elevator and keyed in his sequence, and while he waited for the lift doors to open, unfamiliar men strolled around the halls unchallenged, removing items from the building.