Dmitri knew Derrik was in trouble as soon as he saw him leave the Charles Bridge. It was that sixth sense that warned him, the type of air that comes when something bad is about to happen. Agents were specially trained to sniff it out.

He headed off towards Derrik’s motel in Old Town, not stopping to look at anything along the way. He finally reached the deserted alley, empty save for a few stray newspapers. He looked at the ground. Motor oil…no automobiles came back here, they used the front side of the motel. Only Derrik came in the back door. Dmitri also checked that. It was locked. He went around to the front of the building, passing through the grimy doors, walking through cobwebs and the empty reception desk as he found his way to Derrik’s room.

The door lay right in front of him; room 17. He ignored the DO NOT DISTURB and kicked down the door. He stepped across the threshold to find…nothing. No furniture, no television with three channels, no lights, no Derrik.