Freezing Order: A True Story of Money Laundering, Murder, and Surviving Vladimir Putin's Wrath

by Bill Browder

“Who’s the hot blonde?” “A Russian girl interested in fashion and human rights,” I answered flatly. Mark smirked. I was exhausted and didn’t stay at the reception much longer. I took a cab back to my French hotel, leaving Mark to work the crowd. Once in my room, I checked my email. As I scrolled through the messages, a new one arrived. It was from one “Svetlana Melnikova.” “Dear Mr. Browder,” it read, “I very much enjoyed meeting you earlier this evening. I thought we had a very strong connection. I was wondering if you’d like to meet for a drink at your hotel? Where are you staying?” She signed it, “Kisses, S.” Strong connection? We’d spent all of two minutes standing in line together, what was she talking about? I didn’t respond. An hour later, as I was getting into bed, another email arrived. “William, are you still awake? I am. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’d really like to see you this evening. More kisses, S.” I had to laugh. I’m a five-foot-nine middle-aged bald man. Six-foot, busty blond models don’t throw themselves at me. This couldn’t have been a more blatant honey trap. But as I lay in the dark, my mind spun. Our adversaries were actively framing us for their crimes in Russia. I was a wanted criminal there. Alexander Perepilichnyy was a known target of a Chechen assassin. And now here I was at a conference in Monaco getting hit with a honey trap. Sure, it was ham-fisted and clumsy, but it meant that I had been standing next to an FSB operative that very ni...