I thought so too — except nothing was done. The hours passed into days, and there was nothing. The days passed into weeks, and there was still nothing. It was hard to believe that such a huge story about the theft of government money would elicit no response.
But then there was a response — just not the one I was expecting. On August 21, 2008, during an unusually still and hot summer day in London, the phone in my office started to ring. First it was Sergei, calling from Firestone Duncan; then it was Vladimir Pastukhov, calling from his home office; then it was Eduard, calling from his dacha just outside Moscow. Each of our lawyers had the same message: a team from the Russian Interior Ministry was raiding his office.
Eduard’s message was the most disturbing. While he wasn’t at his office, a DHL package arrived at 4:56 p.m. Thirty minutes later, a large group of police officers showed up to his workplace to conduct a search. No sooner had they started their search than they «found» the DHL package and seized it. As soon as they had it in their possession, they concluded their raid and left.
Obviously, the whole episode was constructed around the arrival of this mysterious package. Thankfully, Eduard’s secretary had had the foresight to make a copy of the waybill and faxed it to us. We were shocked when we logged on to the DHL website, entered the waybill number, and got the return address for the package: Grafton House, 2–3 Golden Square, London W1F 9HR.
Our address in London.
Of course, it hadn’t actually been sent from our office. The waybill, though, showed it had been sent from a DHL depot in south London, so we immediately contacted London’s Metropolitan Police and explained the story. Later that day, Detective Sergeant Richard Norten, a young officer in a leather jacket and aviator sunglasses, strutted into our offices.
I introduced myself and asked whether he had had any luck figuring out who’d sent the parcel.
He shrugged and slid a DVD out of his jacket. «No, but I’ve got the CCTV from the Lambeth DHL», he said. «Maybe you can identify them».
I indicated my desk. Vadim, Ivan, and I gathered in front of it as Norten loaded the disc into my computer. He grabbed the mouse, opened the file, and fast-forwarded through low-resolution video footage of people coming and going at DHL’s shipping desk. Then he let it play. «Here it is».
We watched as two East European — looking men arrived at DHL. One carried a plastic bag emblazoned with the logo of a retail store in Kazan, Tatarstan. The bag was full of papers. The man stuffed these documents into a DHL box and closed it, while the other man filled out the waybill and paid in cash to have it shipped to Eduard’s office. When they were done, they turned their backs on the camera and walked out of frame.
When it was finished, Norten asked, «Do you recognize either of them?»
I looked at Ivan and Vadim. They shook their heads. «No», I answered. «We don’t».
«Well, if you give me the names of the people who are making problems for you in Russia, I can cross-reference them with flight manifests out of Heathrow and Gatwick for the past week to see if anything comes up».
I wasn’t particularly hopeful, but we gave him a list of names and he left.
I didn’t have time to dwell on DHL, though, because the Russian authorities were moving quickly. In addition to raiding our lawyers’ offices, they also summoned Vladimir and Eduard to appear at the Kazan Interior Ministry’s headquarters three days later on a Saturday for questioning.
Not only was this summons illegal — lawyers cannot be compelled to give evidence about their clients — it was ominous. Kazan’s police force had the reputation of being one of the most medieval and corrupt in Russia. They made the prison in Midnight Express look like a Holiday Inn. The men who worked there were notorious for torturing detainees, including sodomizing them with champagne bottles, to extract confessions. Moreover, by inviting Eduard and Vladimir on a Saturday, they would be off the grid until the following Monday, and during that time the Kazan Interior Ministry could do anything it wanted, more or less in the dark.
I was absolutely terrified. This was a whole new level of escalation. I’d taken Ivan, Vadim, and other Hermitage people out of Russia to prevent exactly this kind of thing from happening, but never in my worst nightmares had I imagined that my lawyers could be targets.
Because of Vladimir’s frail health, I was especially concerned about him being taken into custody. I called him right away. «I’m worried about you, Vladimir», I said anxiously.
But Vladimir was strangely unconcerned. He approached this situation as if it were an academic problem, one that he could examine and analyze, not one that was actually happening to him. «Don’t worry, Bill. I’m protected as a barrister. They can’t summon me for questioning. I’ve spoken to the Moscow bar association, and they will reply on my behalf. I won’t go anywhere near Kazan».
«Let’s assume for a second that you’re wrong and they take you anyway. You wouldn’t survive a week in jail given the state of your health».
«But Bill, it’s just too outrageous. They can’t start going after lawyers».
I was unmoved. «Listen, Vladimir. You were the one who convinced Vadim to evacuate in the middle of the night a couple of years ago — now it’s your turn. At least come to London so we can talk about it in person».
He paused for a moment. «Let me think about it».
Vadim had a similar conversation with Eduard, who also didn’t intend to leave. Both lawyers knew that these summonses were illegal and that they had strong grounds to reject them, so neither showed up for questioning.
Saturday came and went, and nothing happened. Same for Sunday. On Monday morning, I called Vladimir. «O'kay, you survived the weekend and you’ve thought about it — when are you coming to London?»
«I don’t know if I am. Everybody has told me the same thing. If I leave Russia, it would be the worst thing I could possibly do. It would appear as though I was guilty of something. Moreover, my life is here. All my clients are here. I can’t just get up and leave, Bill».
I understood his reluctance, but I felt that the danger for him in staying was reaching a critical level. The people behind this were criminals, and they acted as if they had full control of the police. «But Vladimir, if they frame you, it doesn’t matter whether you’re innocent or guilty. You’ve got to get out of there. If not permanently, then at least until this all stops. It’s crazy for you to stay!»
Despite my logic, he was resolute about staying — until he called me that Wednesday, sounding much less confident. «Bill, I’ve just received a new summons from Kazan».
«And?»
«I called the investigator who signed it and told him it was illegal. He responded that if I didn’t show up, they would bring me in forcibly. I tried to talk to him about my health, but he wouldn’t listen. He was talking like a gangster, not a police officer!»
«Now will you—"
«That’s not even the worst of it, Bill. From all this stress, I had a problem with my eye last night. It’s like a fireball in my head. I need to see my specialist as soon as possible, but he’s in Italy».
«So go to Italy, then».
«I will as soon as I’m well enough to fly».
Later that day we found out that Eduard had also received a second summons. He thought that the Moscow bar association could deflect it, but there was nothing they could do either.