Three years earlier:
-oOo-
M36 Motorway near Yuzhno-uralsk,
Chelyabinsk District, Russian Federation, November 2nd 1998, 11.32 PM
The deserted motorway reflected the soft light of the full moon, the winds and curves of the tarmac that rolled out over the land making it almost seem like a black frozen river amidst the freshly fallen white snow that covered the fields and forests of this part of the former USSR.
One car, a Soviet-made jeep, cautiously driving down the road was the only thing that disturbed the peace and quiet of the bitter cold countryside. Its headlights lighting the road ahead, the plume from the exhaust clearly visible in the night.
Near a sharp curve in the road, the car stopped. Two men got out, dressed in Russian army gear, the red palette on their shoulders giving away their ranks. One of them, a Colonel, walked over to the side of the road.
"Почему мы останавливались здесь? (Why did we stop here?)" the Lieutenant that stood near the car asked. The Colonel turned round to face him.
"Поскольку это прекрасно, (because it is perfect).There's a fifty meter drop at this point, that should be enough to take care of things."
The Lieutenant joined him. "You sure?"
"Sure, Leonid, just push the car over, and it will look as if it missed the curve and crashed, unfortunately killing the driver."
"Я выведу механизм, (I'll get the gear out)."
"Let's put our friend in the driver's seat shall we?" the Colonel said to the other he had called Leonid. He opened the rear passenger's door. Slumped on the back seat was the body of another man, clad in exactly the same uniform as himself. He reached inside and pulled the limp body out by its arms. He dragged the body to the driver's seat and put it on the seat, then he pushed the legs inside the car too, and positioned the body more erect into the seat. He pulled on the steering wheel and turned the tires to the right, towards the cliff. He reached inside to get something, and then he closed the door again.
Leonid, meanwhile, had pulled out a metal suitcase from the booth of the car and planted it on the hard-shoulder. The Colonel summoned him to come over. "Come, we'll push it down, if you take this side, we'll have this job done in seconds. Leonid walked over to his side.
"You ready?"
Leonid nodded.
"Good, now there's only one more thing to do," he said.
"What's that?" Leonid asked as he put his hands on the car to push it forward.
"This," the other said and he hit him on the back of his head with a hammer. Leonid grunted and dropped to the tarmac, blood oozing down his face. "Sorry, мои друг, (my friend), looks like you're going to enjoy the ride too. We left with two, and so we'll crash with two."
He dragged the limp body of Leonid to the passenger's side and put him into the car too, the slumped body of the man leaning with his head on the dashboard. Then he picked a flare out of his pocket and lighted it. He threw it into the car on the rear seat. Then he closed the door.
He waited for a little while for the fire to pick up enough to ensure it would burn fiercely once the car had crashed and the gasoline that would be spilled would add to the inferno. He pushed the car to the edge of the cliff, and with a little groan, the front tires slipped over the edge and the car began falling down, its interior brightly lit by the now raging fire.
The sound of the crashing car, the twisting metal, was somewhat dampened by the snow, but as the gasoline tank burst the car exploded in a roaring fireball. He felt the heat touching his face, the shockwave of the explosion pushed him back a little.
The car was now a raging fireball fifty meters below and the flames consumed both the car and its passengers, until recognition would be impossible. The yellow glow of the fire illuminated his face, the clouds of air he breathed contrasting sharply in the cold night. With a satisfied smile he turned around and walked back to where the suitcase was standing. He picked it up and began walking back to where they had come from.