It was six o'clock on Monday evening and the snowstorm had set in for the day. Cutting down the side of GUM, the massive iron and brick Victorian department store that stares across Red Square to the Kremlin, I could see barely ten feet in front of me. Compacted ice had left the cobbles treacherous underfoot while a fleet of snowploughs was weaving a moto perpetuo on the Square, trying vainly to keep the snow at bay. I was heading for the Spassky Gate, with its iconic clocktower and illuminated red star looming through the swirling flakes.
The red brick of the Kremlin wall emerged from the gloom and I was unexpectedly transported back to the first time I had come here, twenty years earlier. Then I was a nervous young reporter setting foot in the long-forbidden seat of Soviet power, issued with a coveted pass to attend Gorbachev's groundbreaking Congress of People's Deputies where real debate was happening in Russia for the first time, where democrats like Andrei Sakharov, Anatoly Sobchak and Alexander Yakovlev were slugging it out with the communist dinosaurs.
Now, in 2007, I couldn't help wondering if much had changed. The welcome at the Spassky Gate was pretty much the same: three uniformed guards with rifles and a metal detector. But there was, I thought, a subtle difference: instead of the old silent stare and deliberately sceptical examination of my documents, the guards allowed themselves a welcoming smile and wry comment about the snowstorm. Then from the shadows a figure stepped forward and called my name.
Aleksei was in his late twenties or early thirties, slim, nondescript in dress and appearance, and cheerily informal. We chatted easily as we walked through the courtyard between the Kremlin wall and the State Armoury and then turned into a less than imposing door in the wall of the long yellow-stucco building which houses the presidential administration. This was, clearly, the back entrance to the seat of power. Once inside, the security began again with another metal detector and the surrender of my mobile phone to the guard. In the elevator taking us to the third floor I asked Aleksei how long he had worked in the Kremlin and who he worked for. The answer was a smiling seven years and a somewhat embarrassed, ‘Actually I work for the FSB, but don't worry, I'm not a spy.’ He was, he said, providing security to the president and other top officials and the thought crossed my mind that he was doing the same job that Lugovoy and Kovtun had once done.
We were strolling down a series of long wide corridors, the same corridors that Kremlin leaders had trodden for the last ninety years. With their brown wood panelling, rows of doors, parquet floors and worn strips of carpet, they would have been as familiar to Lenin and Stalin, to Khrushchev and Brezhnev as they now were to Putin. At the end of one corridor I was ushered first into an anteroom where a couple of officials sat typing and then into a very large corner office, four-square with a conference table and twelve chairs. At the head of the table a wide desk was covered in papers, and behind it a full-size Russian flag and a map of the world covered most of the wall. Dmitry Peskov enjoys the confidence of the president and the perks of the responsible position he occupies. He is a sprightly man in his early forties, a career diplomat who became close to Putin from the moment the president was first elected, impressing him with his energy, intelligence and knowledge of the world. Putin appointed Peskov head of information for his administration and takes him with him wherever he goes. On the day I came the two were between trips to Sochi and Volgograd. Over a cup of hot Georgian tea I tried to gauge if his boss really could have been involved in the Litvinenko poisoning, or if the accusations against Putin were merely the fabrications or wishful thinking of enemies at home and abroad. Peskov is indignant about the allegations and their timing. He and Putin were together at the Russia-EU summit in Helsinki the day Litvinenko died, and he feels the Berezovsky camp deliberately stage-managed events to embarrass Putin in the spotlight of the world's media.
When we heard that it was serious and that his life was in danger, we were already in Helsinki. And then it was announced that he had died just one or two hours before the [president's] press conference. So from that point of view the timing was indicating that it was a frame-up, that it was an attempt to frame Putin. The attention of all the media, especially the European media, was focused on that event and there was some suspense over whether the new negotiation agreement [with Russia] would be accepted or not, so the timing for framing Putin was actually excellent.
Peskov is an earnest, sophisticated man, far removed from the bullying, stonewalling Kremlin officials I was used to in the 1980s and 90s. He comes across as reasonable, and sincere in his love for his country and his faith in his president. He knows Putin intimately - he works with him every day - and feels personal resentment on behalf of his boss.
The whole story when Mr Litvinenko was in hospital was well orchestrated; it was spread into the media in a very talented way. What pushed the trigger for the entire anti-Russian, anti-Putin hysteria was that mysterious note [Litvinenko's alleged dying statement]. I say mysterious because the note was announced about thirty or forty minutes before the Helsinki press conference. We had heard that for the last couple of days Litvinenko was not conscious, but suddenly a note appeared that was said to be written personally by him. Before the note we were not commenting on the story. He was very sick, and when he was about to die I doubt he would want to write something. And I'll be frank with you, we know that some PR companies were involved in that case and they were communicating that story to the media. And given the style of the text of that note, I can presume that it is the joint effort of someone who hates Russia - who hates Putin personally - and that degree of hatred is a characteristic of a very few people living in London, of Russian origin and also very talented communicators who know how to use wordings in order to burn the flame of hatred. In my opinion, that was the aim and from the point of view of starting that hysteria they lit the torch.
When I asked Peskov if he was accusing Berezovsky, his answer was reasonably clear: ‘I'm not naming him personally, but from the description of course it gives you the possibility to guess.’
I knew that Dmitry Peskov had discussed the Litvinenko case with Putin at great length and given him advice on how to respond to the accusations against the Kremlin, on how to remain calm and measured in the face of what the president believed to be an unjustified personal affront against himself.
You know, I would never discuss that [advice] in public. But nevertheless, what is obvious is that the president felt himself necessary to express his condolences to the family of Litvinenko. He accepted that that it was a human tragedy - a man died - but he never tried to camouflage, to hide the fact that he was not fond of Mr Litvinenko. And you will find very few people in my country - including his first wife, by the way, and his two children - who are fond of him or who are proud of him. This is not the case in my country.
It was a strange sensation, sitting in the heart of the Kremlin, discussing the personal feelings of the most powerful man in Russia. Through two large windows I looked out over the distinctive crenellations of the Kremlin wall at the snow blowing through Red Square beyond. Would the previous occupants of these quarters have been so open with a foreigner?
I recalled the words of Akhmed Zakayev who was convinced that Vladimir Putin had personally ordered the killing of Litvinenko: ‘His former teacher once described Putin as small-minded, malevolent and unforgiving,’ said Zakayev. ‘I believe that Putin personally hated Litvinenko and couldn't forgive him that he had betrayed the homeland and the system.’ I pressed Dmitry Peskov for his views; I asked him to tell me how President Putin felt about the allegations levelled at him personally, how it felt to be accused of murder. Peskov said he would not discuss such things in public, but I later spoke to another source close to Putin who knew about his feelings.
‘The president is very upset by this,’ he told me. ‘He is upset by these accusations made personally about him. He simply can't believe that people are saying these things about him as a person. He's very angry about the way the British press has named him as a murderer - that's why he won't speak about it any more.’ I asked my source why, if this was the case, Putin had refrained from expressing his anger and hurt. He told me, ‘The president doesn't like his feelings being discussed in public’ It was, I thought, quite a revealing moment.
St Basil's Cathedral and GUM loomed out of the snow and the gloom. The clock on the Spassky Tower chimed its distinctive peal for seven o'clock. I put it to Dmitry Peskov that even if President Putin had not personally ordered the Litvinenko killing, it could still have been the unauthorized work of the Russian security services. Had the president ordered an inquiry to make sure the FSB was not involved? ‘Look, I don't know. I am being very frank with you now. It's not a question of Putin not being sure if such an involvement was possible or impossible. It is hard for us to imagine that there is the slightest idea that such a possibility could exist. For us the tiniest possibility is out of the question. There is not even the tiniest possibility, not even a hypothetical possibility of our special services being involved.’
Up to now I had been convinced by what I had heard. On the balance of evidence I was coming to the conclusion that Putin himself had had no hand in the murder. But this was something different: despite Peskov's assertion that the FSB had not been involved, he could offer no evidence that ruled out the possibility of a freelance operation, or that suggested Moscow had even tried to rule it out. When I pressed him he told me, ‘For that purpose [checking the possibility of an FSB involvement] our prosecutor's office has opened its own investigation.’ It was clear where I would have to go next.