Strongman, The

Wilkening and Damon Wilson.
    In Georgia we spoke to Irakli Alasania, David Bakradze, Giga Bokeria, Nino Burjanadze, Vladimer Chachibaia, Raphael Gluckmann, Natalia Kinchela, Erosi Kitsmarishvili, Daniel Kunin, Batu Kutelia, Alexander Lomaia, Vano Merabishvili, Mikheil Saakashvili, Eka Tkeshelashvili, Grigol Vashadze, Temur Yakobashvili and Eka Zguladze.
    In the UK we spoke to Tony Brenton, John Browne, Nick Butler, Jonathan Cohen, Michael Davenport, Martha Freeman, David Miliband, Craig Oliphant, Jonathan Powell, George Robertson and Alexander Temerko.
    In Ukraine we interviewed Leonid Kuchma, Hrihoriy Nemyria, Oleh Rybachuk and Viktor Yushchenko, and in Poland Alexander Kwa ś niewski and Radoslaw Sikorski.
    In Germany we interviewed Rolf Nikel, Alexander Rahr, Gerhard Schröder and Frank-Walter Steinmeier, and in France our sources were Jean-David Levitte and Maurice Gourdault-Montagne.
    I would like to thank the producer of the Brook Lapping series, Norma Percy, and the executive producer, Brian Lapping, for giving me the opportunity to work on this long but rewarding project. My thanks go to directors Wanda Koscia and David Alter for reading some of the chapters, and to assistant producer Tim Stirzaker for his indefatigable research and organisational help. Above all I am indebted to the series director, Paul Mitchell, and the Moscow producer, Masha Slonim, for their stream of advice and insights. Neil Buckley and Fiona Hill kindly read the manuscript or parts of it and made many sensible suggestions, for which I am very grateful. Lastly, warm thanks to my agent Bill Hamilton, and my excellent editor at I.B.Tauris, Joanna Godfrey.

 
    1
THE SECRET POLICEMAN’S BALL
    A new millennium
    The Putin era began at midday on the last day of the twentieth century. Taking the entire world by surprise, a wheezing, faltering President Boris Yeltsin appeared on television to announce his resignation, six months ahead of schedule. In a voice breaking with emotion he asked Russians to forgive him for his mistakes and failings, and told his people that Russia should enter the new millennium with ‘new politicians, new faces, new intelligent, strong and energetic people’.
    Yeltsin had recorded the address in the Kremlin earlier that morning. The first people to know about it, apart from his daughter Tatiana and his closest advisers, were the television technicians who loaded his script into the autocue machine. When he finished he turned away and wiped tears from his eyes, then opened a bottle of champagne, poured a glass for the camera crew and the few presidential staff who were present, clinked glasses and downed his own one in a single go. Even as he did so, his designated successor, Vladimir Putin, was being made up behind a screen in the same room to record his own New Year’s address to the people.
    It would be broadcast just before midnight. But first he had a few formalities to see to. At two o’clock he was given the ‘nuclear briefcase’ containing the codes needed to launch a nuclear strike. Then he held a five-minute meeting of his cabinet, followed by a longer session of his Security Council. At six he signed his first presidential decree, granting Yeltsin and the members of his family immunity from prosecution. Then he held a series of quick one-on-one meetings with key ministers. And finally, cancelling a planned trip to St Petersburg, he swept out of the Kremlin in the presidential motorcade and headed for Vnukovo airport. He had plans to bring in the New Year somewhere special.
    While billions of people around the globe ushered in the new millennium with parties and fireworks, Russia’s new acting president was onboard a military helicopter trying to fly into the rebel republic of Chechnya in hazardous weather conditions that eventually forced the chopper to return to base in neighbouring Dagestan. This was the Putin the world would come to know and fear – the tough guy, the action man, obsessed with combating terrorists and separatists, determined to restore the pride of a country that under Yeltsin had come to look shambolic and sick.
    As his helicopter battled with the elements over Chechnya, Russian television aired his pre-recorded address to the nation. It was brief and matter-of-fact, declaring there would be no vacuum of power and paying tribute to his predecessor. It contained only one policy pledge, which in retrospect looks quite remarkable. He said: ‘The state will stand firm to protect