Free Codename: Omega (feat. The Apiary Society) by Bernard Schaffer

fired an imaginary rifle at his older brother and Adolph clutched his chest dramatically and fell to the ground.  “You got me, Old Shatterhand.  I am finished.” 
    Edmund giggled and danced around the fallen Indian Chief.  “I killed you!”  
    “Yes, Edmund.  It was an excellent shot.”
    The boys played for over an hour, talking turns being the Cowboy or the Indians.  Adolph stopped playing to turn and look at the sky, measuring the distance of the sun from the horizon.  “Time to go, Edmund.”
    “I don’t want to!”
    “Father is going to be home soon and we must get cleaned up for dinner.”
    One of the windows above them on the second-floor opened and a thin, pleasant looking woman said, “Adolph?  Edmund!  Time to come up.”
    “See?” Adolph said.  He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth and bellowed, “Coming, Mother!”
    “No!”  Edmund took off running into the woods and vanished between the wide oak trees.
    Adolph called for the little boy to come back.  He crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, “Edmund.  Stop playing this instant.  This is not very funny.” 
    There was no response. 
    “Edmund?  Okay, you had your laugh.  Where are you?”  Adolph headed into the woods, calling his brother’s name.   
    Price appeared on the second floor of the building in the hallway, directly outside of the Hitler’s apartment.  He pressed his ear to the door, listening to the sound of banging pots and pans in the kitchen.  Mrs. Hitler did not look up from the sink as Price crept past her and headed for the bedrooms.  There were only two.  Both of them, exceptionally clean. 
    The boys’ room had one small bed and a sparse amount of furniture.  On a single bookshelf crammed with children’s books, were several volumes by James Fenimore Cooper and Karl May about America’s Wild West.  Price picked up a beaten-up looking copy of The Adventures of Old Shatterhand thumbed through the pages while little Adolph called for his brother outside .
     Price put the book back and picked up a pillow off the bed, holding it with both hands.  He imagined two little boys sleeping in the bed as he stood over them.  He pictured Edmund rolling over to find his older brother dead beside him.  Price heard Adolph, still yelling, “Edmund!  Edmund!  Where are you?” 
    There was alarm in the boy’s voice.  Price looked down from the window to see the older brother catch up to the younger and grab him by the shoulder.  Adolph scolded the boy with one finger while dragging him toward the apartment building. 
    Edmund did not seem to mind.  He slid his hand inside his older brother’s and the two of them walked home. 
    Price looked back at the bed.  He threw the pillow on it and vanished.   
    ***
    1946
    J. Edgar Hoover sounded like he was choking in his sleep when he snored.  He muttered incoherently while Sean Price picked up the handgun from Hoover’s dresser, unloaded it, and tossed it into a clothes hamper.  He stood over the FBI Director’s sleeping form and stuck his hand over Hoover’s mouth. 
    Hoover’s eyes flew open and he convulsed in the bed in terror, trying to claw Price’s hands away from his mouth.  His hand flew to the nightstand, scrambling to find his gun.  Price simply waited, keeping Hoover pinned to the mattress until he stopped struggling. 
    “Where’s Donovan?” Price said.  “I went to his house but there were different people living there.  Did you people kill him?”    
    “Get your filthy hands off of me, you freak!” Hoover hissed.  “Donovan left Washington after the war ended.  He’s a civilian now.  Where the hell have you been?”     
    Price stepped back and regarded Hoover in the dim moonlight.  His skin was splotchy with liver spots.  His hair was now brittle and thin.  There were deep wrinkles in his face.  “Five years ago?” Price whispered.  “Something went wrong when I tried to come back.  I