Maybe you don’t feel the one that kills you. My head didn’t hurt and even the crushing of my windpipe had stopped. Is this heaven? For a second, I just sat there, dazed. Then I started to become aware of things. Mikhail was no longer gripping my neck and I could hear him screaming in the rear seat behind me. Vasiliy was trying to hunker down low in his seat, his gun still drawn but not pointed at me. And his pristine suit was sprinkled with glittering diamonds. I looked down. My suit was the same. Then I saw the hole in the windshield. Not diamonds: glass. I twisted and looked behind me. Mikhail was clutching his left ear, blood dripping from between his fingers. Behind him, there was a ragged hole through the leather seat at roughly head height. I looked out of the windshield just as a flash of lightning lit up the construction site. Up on the second floor of one of the half-finished buildings was a dark shape: a man, lying full-length.
