Chapter Nineteen
Rurik
Kosice, Slovakia
Rurik examined the rear of Alyosha’s calliope truck, his flashlight beam traveling up the line of dried blood from the bumper to where it disappeared beneath the roll-up door. A solid-looking padlock fastened the door shut. The key to it was on his security ring…the one Dmitry Markarov had taken.
As far as Rurik knew, no one had opened the truck in months, maybe years. Alyosha always kept it closed, saying the calliope shouldn’t be exposed to dust or pollution. He was rabid about it.
But the blood leaking from under the door meant someone had been in there—or someone still was.
Curiosity fought with possible repercussions from Alyosha.
No contest.
Rurik trotted down the line of trucks till he reached Minko’s pickup. The riding master kept a t
