We arranged to meet in Mayfair at the bar of Claridge’s Hotel on the first night of his trip. But when I laid eyes on him, I could immediately tell that something was wrong. We sat on the low velvet stools and ordered drinks. While we waited, I said, «Thank you for the strong letter you wrote to the deputy prime minister».
«There’s no need to thank me, Bill», he said in excellent English. «But I’m afraid it achieved nothing. The government’s position on your visa is entrenched».
My heart sank. «How entrenched?»
He stared at me and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. He then pointed a slender finger at the ceiling and said nothing more. Was he saying Putin? It wasn’t clear, but that was the only way I could interpret his mysterious gesture. If this really was Putin’s decision, then I had no chance of fixing it.
When I told Vadim about the meeting, he wasn’t as disappointed as I was. «If Putin really is behind this he must have been fed false information about you. We’ll find someone close to Putin so he can hear the truth».
It was nice of Vadim to find such a positive way to spin this bad situation, but I didn’t buy it. «Who could possibly do that for us?» I asked skeptically.
«How about Dvorkovich?» Vadim suggested. Arkady Dvorkovich was Putin’s chief economic adviser, and Vadim had met him during our campaign to stop asset stripping at the national electricity company. Dvorkovich had been friendly to us, and most importantly, he had the president’s ear.
«It’s worth a shot», I said.
Vadim contacted Dvorkovich, and surprisingly, he said he would try to help.
In spite of Vadim’s deliberate hopefulness, we were clearly running out of options.
Several days after I shared the bad news from the securities commissioner, Vadim got a call in our Moscow office from a man who refused to identify himself and who claimed to have important information regarding my visa refusal. He would share the information only in person and wanted to know when they could meet.
Vadim asked what he should do. Normally, we would have steered a million miles away from a Russian cold-caller seeking a meeting, but with all the obstacles we were hitting, I felt like we needed some kind of break. «Can you meet him somewhere public?» I asked.
«I don’t see why not», Vadim said.
«Then maybe it’s worthwhile», I said tentatively.
A day later, the stranger called again and agreed to meet Vadim at the Vogue Café on Kuznetsky Most, a trendy spot frequented by Russian oligarchs and their twenty-year-old model girlfriends. Standing around them were countless armed bodyguards, making it an ideal location.
As they had their meeting, I paced my apartment in London waiting for news. It lasted more than two hours, and Vadim called shortly after 11:00 a.m. London time. His voice was low and grave. «Bill, it was very disturbing. This guy, he had a lot of things to say».
«O'kay — but first of all, who was he?»
«I don’t know. He wouldn’t give me his real name, but told me to call him Aslan. He was someone in the government for sure. Probably FSB».
«Why should we believe someone who refuses to identify himself?» I asked.
«Because he knew everything. I mean everything, Bill. He knew about our attempts with Gref, Vyugin, Shuvalov, Prikhodko. He had a paper in front of him with all the details of your detention at the airport, a copy of the letter from Brenton, everything. It was scary».
A chill ran up my spine. «What exactly did he say?»
«He said this whole thing is under FSB control, and your visa cancellation is just the beginning».
«Just the beginning?»
«That’s what he said. He said that the FSB is interested in, quote, depriving Hermitage of its assets, unquote».
«Fuck».
«Yeah. And it gets worse. It’s not just the company. It’s us. It’s me. Apparently the FSB is tracking everything I do, and he claimed that I’m going to be arrested imminently». Vadim said this calmly — he said everything calmly — as if he were describing events that were happening to someone else.
I stood quickly, knocking over my chair. «Do you believe him?»
«I’m not sure, but he sounds very credible».
«Why would this Aslan be sharing their intentions with us?»
«He claims there’s a war going on inside the government, and his group is in conflict with the people doing this to us».
I had no idea if this was real or if we were being played, but I was sure of one thing: Vadim had to leave Russia. «Listen, I think it would be best if you came here as soon as possible. If there’s even a small chance that this guy’s telling the truth, we can’t have you getting arrested».
«Wait, wait, Bill. Let’s not overreact».
«Are you kidding, Vadim? Get out. You’re in Russia. Russia! There’s no such thing as overreacting in Russia».
We hung up, but Vadim refused to leave. He knew that if he left Russia at that moment, he might never go back. In his mind, he couldn’t just go into exile because of what this anonymous stranger told him that afternoon. He wanted more information.
I saw things differently, and I implored Vadim to talk to Vladimir Pastukhov, a Moscow lawyer Hermitage had used as outside counsel over the years. Vladimir was the wisest man I knew and like no one else I’d ever met. He was nearly blind, and the Coke-bottle glasses he wore made him look like a scribe from a Dickens novel. Because of his disability, however, Vladimir’s mind was sharper, bigger, and more well rounded than that of anyone else I’ve ever known. He had a rare gift: the ability to read any complex situation to the deepest level and the smallest detail. He was like a great chess player, able to anticipate an opponent’s every move not merely before it was made but also before his opponent even realized it was available.
Even though Vadim wouldn’t leave, he did agree to see Vladimir. When Vladimir opened the door to his apartment just before midnight, Vadim put a finger to his lips, indicating that they shouldn’t talk — just in case Vladimir’s apartment was bugged. He stepped aside and Vadim entered. They made their way in silence to Vladimir’s computer. Vadim sat and started to type.
I’ve been warned by somebody in the government that I’m going to be arrested. Can they do that?
Vladimir took a turn at the keyboard. Are you asking me as a lawyer, or as a friend?
Both.
As a lawyer, no. There are no grounds to arrest you. As a friend, yes. Absolutely. They can do anything.
Should I leave?
How credible is your source?
Very. I think.
Then you should leave.
When?
Right away.
Vadim went home, hastily packed a suitcase, and made his way to the airport for the 5:40 a.m. British Airways flight to London. I couldn’t sleep at all that night until I got a text at 2:30 a.m. London time that Vadim was on the plane and about to take off.
He arrived in London that morning and came directly to my apartment. We were both in shock. We couldn’t believe how quickly things had gone from bad to worse.
As we sat in my study discussing the previous day’s drama, Vadim got a message that Arkady Dvorkovich, Putin’s economic adviser, had taken our request for help seriously. Dvorkovich said he’d convinced several people in the presidential administration that it would be damaging for the Russian investment climate if my visa wasn’t reinstated. Most significantly, the message stated that my visa issue would be put on the agenda at the National Security Council meeting with President Putin the following Saturday.