Luke Harding - A Very Expensive Poison

Passport control, Gatwick Airport, Sussex 16 October 2006

Two of the Russians arriving that morning stood out. What precisely made them suspicious was hard to identify. But in the mind of Spencer Scott the detective constable on duty at Londons Gatwick Airport there was a curious sense of doubt. It was 16 October 2006. Passengers were disembarking from a Transaero flight from Moscow. They were collecting luggage. A stream of new arrivals queued up at passport control, and then proceeded for customs and excise checks.

The first Russian was of medium height, thirty-something, with blond Slavic hair. He was wearing a casual jacket and carrying an expensive-looking leather laptop case. He appeared prosperous. The second, with dark hair, receding slightly, and a yellowish complexion, was clearly his companion. They werent behaving oddly as such. And yet there was something a furtiveness that pricked Detective Constable Scotts attention.

I though they were of interest and basically as they came through immigration controls I stopped them and questioned them, he recalled. Scott hadnt been told to look out for them; he was acting on a hunch. He asked them their names. One man spoke English and identified himself as Andrei Lugovoi. His friend, he said, was Dmitry Kovtun. Kovtun said nothing. It appeared he spoke only Russian. Scott took a grainy low-res photo of them. Lugovoi was on the right. In it they look like dark ghostly smudges. It was 11.34 a.m.

Lugovoi and Kovtuns story seemed convincing enough: they had flown into London for a business meeting. Lugovoi said he owned a company called Global Project. Moreover, his friend was a member of the finance department at a respectable Moscow bank. Their travel agent had booked them in for two nights at the Best Western Hotel in Shaftesbury Avenue. The hotel wasnt cheap: 300 a night. Lugovoi handed over his reservation. It was genuine.

Still, there was something unsettling about their answers, Scott felt: They were very evasive as to why they were coming to the UK. Normally, those subjected to a random stop would open up about families, holiday plans, the lousy English weather. The two Russians, by contrast, were elusive. As I asked them questions, they werent coming out with the answers that I wanted to hear or expected to hear. They were giving me very, very short answers, Scott said. Their replies offered no information.

Scott looked on the internet but couldnt find Global Project. The Russians told him that their business meeting was with Continental Petroleum Limited, a company based at 58 Grosvenor Street in London. Scott rang the firms landline. A man answered, confirmed they were registered with the UKs financial authority. OK, then. The constable checked the police database. Nothing. Britains intelligence agencies, MI5 and MI6, hadnt flagged Lugovoi and Kovtun either. Apparently, they werent of interest.

A coppers nose was one thing; hard facts another. With no evidence to go on, Scott took soundings from his sergeant, who advised him to let both men go forward. Britains judicial and police system rests on a presumption of innocence unlike in Russia, Lugovoi and Kovtuns homeland, where judges take informal guidance from above. After twenty minutes the Russians were told they were free to leave. They collected their luggage and headed for central London. Scott put their photo in a file. It was stamped: For intelligence purposes only.

It was little more than a month later that Scotland Yard faced with a situation of unprecedented international horror realised Scotts instinct had been preternaturally correct. The two werent businessmen. They were killers. Their cover story was just that. It had been painstakingly constructed over a period of months, possibly years. And it worked.

That morning, Lugovoi and Kovtun were bringing something into Britain that customs had failed to detect. Not drugs, or large sums of cash. Something so rare and strange and otherworldly, it had never been seen before in this form in Europe or America.

It was, as Kovtun put it, talking in confidence to a friend in Hamburg, a very expensive poison. A toxin which had started its surreptitious journey to London from a secret nuclear complex in south-west Siberia. An invisible hi-tech murder weapon.

Lugovoi and Kovtun were to use it to kill a man named Alexander Litvinenko. Litvinenko was a Russian migr who had fled to Britain six years previously. Hed become a persistent pain for the Russian government. He was a remorseless critic of Vladimir Putin, Russias secret policeman turned president. By 2006, Litvinenko was increasingly anomalous: back in Russia many sources of opposition has been squashed.