Vladimir

It was 2007. I knew that it was, although nobody said so. They came for me in my hotel room and took me down to the car. Putin was in the back. It was like a room. He half stood and reached out to shake hands.

“Vladimir Vladimirovich.”

“Christian Karlson.”

“Sorry not much English,” he said.

“Sorry no Russian at all,” I replied.

For the five minutes it took to drive to the Marriott Aurora he continued to hold my hand. When it came in sight, he gave an order to the driver and we veered off into the streets behind the