Codename: Omega (feat. The Apiary Society) by Bernard Schaffer Read Free Book Online Page B

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