Rise of the Order by Trevor Scott Page B

the mail from the Order priest from Bratislava. A day later the man was found dead.”
    Suddenly, the building alarm sounded. A sharp wailing alternating buzz that would wake anyone within a kilometer radius.
    â€œShit.” Jake pulled his gun, shoved the leather day planner into his leather jacket at his belly, and zipped it inside.
    â€œWe gotta get the hell outta here,” Kurt whispered loudly.
    Just as they stepped out of the inner cement block office, overhead lights came on, revealing armed men in black jumpsuits taking up positions alongside pallets, their automatic Steyrs aimed directly at Jake and Kurt.
    The two of them froze, red dots dancing across their chests.
    â€œCrap,” Kurt said.
    â€œHands in the air,” came a voice in German from the corridor entrance.
    When neither moved, the voice came harsher. Finally, Jake and Kurt raised their hands and two men entered the warehouse, their 9mm Glocks leading the way.
    Jake was about to say something when he recognized the two cops in street clothes. They must have recognized him also, since they lowered their weapons to their sides. But the red dots remained.
    â€œFranz,” Jake said. “Could you have your boys lower their weapons? Hate to have someone’s finger slip.”
    The Kriminal Hauptkommisar, Franz Martini, shook his head. “Jesus Christ. Jake Adams. I thought I left you in Innsbruck.”
    â€œYou know this guy?” Kurt asked.
    â€œWe’ve met,” Jake said.
    Franz holstered his Glock and said, “Yeah, we’ve met. Jake was trying to get himself killed when he first moved to Innsbruck. He turned my quiet streets into a personal shooting gallery.” Martini had a slight smile on his face, but under that was consternation.
    â€œLove the goatee,” Jake said.
    Now Jack Donicht came up behind Jake and patted him for weapons, retrieving his CZ-75 and then his back-up weapon from his right ankle. He handed the guns to Martini and then went to work on Kurt, finding his .40 caliber and a diving knife on his leg. Donicht held onto those and backed up next to his boss.
    â€œA knife?” Jake whispered to Kurt.
    â€œHave you tried the knives at these local restaurants?” Kurt asked. “Couldn’t cut cream cheese.”
    â€œWho’s your friend, Jake?” Franz asked, his head flicking at Kurt.
    â€œA local businessman.”
    The Vienna cop laughed. “A heavily armed one. You know it’s illegal to carry a gun in Austria, mister. . .”
    â€œKurt Lamar. I was robbed last month at gun-point. If the criminals have them.” He shrugged and let the words hang there.
    Franz Martini waved his hand at his men with the automatic weapons and the red dots disappeared.
    Jake lowered his arms and then Kurt reluctantly did the same.
    Martini whispered something to Donicht and the assistant came back to Kurt to pat him down again, this time pulling his wallet from his back pocket and his passport from inside his jacket. Donicht brought them to his boss, who flipped through them, his eyes tracing the facts and occasionally glancing up to view Kurt’s face.
    â€œSays here you are the president of a company called Badger Computers,” Franz said. “What is Badger?”
    Kurt shrugged and flicked his hands. “It’s an animal in America. It’s kind of the symbol for my home state, Wisconsin.”
    â€œI see. But why are you in Vienna?”
    â€œWe set up high-speed wireless networks,” Kurt said. “Hotspots. So people can compute at coffee shops, restaurants.”
    â€œI see,” Franz said again. “So then tonight you and your friend, Jake, decide to set up a hotspot in this warehouse?” The Vienna cop was confused but not enough to buy Kurt’s story.
    Answering for Kurt, Jake said, “We were out for dinner and I asked Kurt if we could stop by here to pick up something for a friend.” Jake pulled out the keys