Vadim Nikitin

Vadim Nikitin worked in the business intelligence industry for fifteen years.

‘The name’s Steele, Christopher Steele.’ That’s the way a former MI6 operative who wrote the notorious dossier alleging collusion between Trump and Putin introduced himself at a debate at the Cambridge Union last October. ‘And as you can see, sir,’ he told the union president to giggles from the audience, ‘tonight I’ve come dressed in my usual...

Dadada: Chasing the Cybercriminals

Vadim Nikitin, 21 November 2024

It had been​ twenty years since my last research trip to the British Library when, in November last year, I received an email with the subject line: ‘Important information about our recent cyber incident’.

As you may be aware, we are currently experiencing a major technology outage as a result of a cyber attack. Following confirmation that this was a ransomware attack, we’re...

Saintly Outliers: Browder’s Fraud Story

Vadim Nikitin, 5 October 2023

Last February​, after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, the word ‘oligarch’ experienced a brief spike in Google searches, just as a volley of Western sanctions hit these Russian billionaire businessmen, who were deemed responsible for propping up the government of Vladimir Putin. The oligarchs are a diverse bunch, but they have certain characteristics in common. Most made their...

From The Blog
4 March 2022

I spent three days this week trying to get out of Russia with my three-year-old son, who was visiting his grandparents in Murmansk for the first time (in retrospect perhaps not the best time to have made such a trip). There were no flights out, but also no spare tickets on any bus going to Helsinki; the train was still running (for Russian and Finnish citizens only) though everyone expects it to stop any day. At Finland Station payments to Russian Railways with Western cards were not working. I had to beg the lady to hold the tickets in the face of a long angry queue as I ran to a nearby Sberbank to withdraw cash.

Kleptocracy

Vadim Nikitin, 21 February 2019

I remember​ the first time I paid a bribe. It was the summer of 1993, and I was standing at the ticket counter of the Aeroflot office in Voronezh; I was nine years old. My parents had just handed in their passports at the window. ‘Biletov nyet,’ a voice barked from behind a brown computer console labelled ‘Robotron’. The rest happened quickly. I saw my father...

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