Sometimes drinking brought clarity. In October 2006, the Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya was murdered in Moscow. She had exposed atrocities committed by Russian troops in Chechnya, and many suspected that the FSB, the Russian secret service, had a hand in her killing. A week later, the Frontline Club was packed with journalists and human rights activists, come to hear a panel discuss Anna’s career and the implications of her death. The panel had diverted into a more general discussion of democracy in Russia when Marie arrived, late and somewhat the worse for wear. She leaned against the
Sometimes drinking brought clarity. In October 2006, the Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya was murdered in Moscow. She had exposed atrocities committed by Russian troops in Chechnya, and many suspected that the FSB, the Russian secret service, had a hand in her killing. A week later, the Frontline Club was packed with journalists and human rights activists, come to hear a panel discuss Anna’s career and the implications of her death. The panel had diverted into a more general discussion of democracy in Russia when Marie arrived, late and somewhat the worse for wear. She leaned against the back wall, her thin frame encased in a black leather jacket over a white vest, eye patch dominating her face, her hair escaping from the pins that held it back, so it stuck out like tufts of feathers on a bedraggled bird. “I want to ask a question, right now tonight,” she bellowed, her words slurred but determined. “Who killed Anna? That’s the best thing we can do. I’ve covered Chechnya, I care about it, I had a car shot out from under me by the Russians. I don’t want to hear this about democracy. Who killed Anna? That’s what we can do as journalists.… I don’t want to hear all this stuff about principles. Who killed Anna?” It was an electric moment. A slim man rose from the middle of the audience. “I’m a former KGB agent. I know who killed Anna,” he said. He turned around and addressed Marie directly. “Come and see me afterward.” She got his card and they talked that night, but she ne...
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