Rise of the Order by Trevor Scott Page A

storage building, a brick structure that resembled a warehouse, just as darkness settled on the city.
    Kurt parked the Audi a block away and shut down the engine and lights. And they waited, Kurt watching the mirrors and Jake watching the building in front of them.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Kurt asked.
    â€œRough neighborhood. Not sure why Albrecht stores anything here.”
    â€œI agree.”
    â€œIn his defense, Albrecht said the Order has owned the place since nineteen-ten,” Jake said. “Place could have lost some charm over time.”
    â€œShould we give it a while? Or go right in?”
    Jake slid out his 9mm and made sure there was a round chambered, then put it back into its holster. Reaching to his right ankle, he retrieved a subcompact HK automatic pistol in 9mm, snapping a round into the chamber.
    â€œThat’s new,” Kurt said.
    â€œI’ve needed a back up more than I’d like to admit. You still blasting the shit outta stuff with your Navy Colt forty-five nineteen-eleven?”
    Kurt pulled out a Glock 21 from inside his jacket and smiled.
    â€œThat the forty-cal version?” Jake asked him.
    â€œDamn right. A little more knock-down than your nine-mil, but nothing like my old forty-five.”
    â€œIt’s not the size, Kurt. It’s how you use it.” Jake smiled. “Thought you knew that by now.”
    â€œFuckin’ dink. Let’s book, pal.” He reached into the glove box and retrieved a small flashlight. “Only have the one.”
    Jake pulled a mini-mag light from his pocket. “I’m good.”
    They got out and made their way to the building. The snow had made the cobbled sidewalk wet, and they left tracks from their car to the front of the building. Only a dim light shone from above a thick wooden door. There was a blue sign next to the door with the number 25 on it. While Kurt swiveled his head to keep watch, Jake quickly opened the door and the two of them hurried out of the snow into a narrow passageway. A blinking blue light on a security panel accentuated a coordinated beeping.
    â€œYou didn’t tell me the place had a security system,” Kurt said, nervous now.
    â€œNeed to know basis,” Jake said, his fingers clicking in the code. The blinking light and beeping stopped. Jake turned to Kurt. “You understand that.”
    They went through a door at the end of the corridor into a large warehouse lit by red ceiling lights. Their shoes squeaked on the cold cement floor.
    Kurt shone his light at pallets stacked high. “What the hell is this stuff?”
    Turning his light on, Jake saw stacks of boxes with “Baby Food” stenciled in German on each one. “What the hell you think the Order does these days. . .crusade to Prussia or the Middle East? Killing anyone who won’t convert to Christianity?”
    â€œNo. But I expected some kind of cool swords or something.”
    â€œThis way,” Jake said, pointing his light toward a metal door with no markings. There was an inner wall of brick, a room within a room, that looked like a vault. Jake used a second key to open that door, and then with some difficulty swung that door open. “God, it weighs a ton.”
    Checking for a light switch, Jake found one, but the lights were not bright. They seemed to run off of batteries. There was a desk on one side and the other side was completely covered with file cabinets floor to ceiling, some eight feet high. The ceiling was also cement. Jake expected it to be damp in there, but it wasn’t. Must have had humidity control, he guessed. Jake went behind the desk and found what Albrecht had told him to get—a leather zippered pouch that resembled a day planner. He opened the zipper, looked inside briefly to make sure it was what he wanted, and, satisfied, zipped it shut.
    â€œThat’s what we came for?”
    Jake came around the desk. “That’s it. Albrecht received it in