"I had been in Kharkiv three weeks ago too—four days after Ukrainian President Viktor Yanukovych fled the country. As I got on the plane then in Moscow, where I live, I had spotted two men in their 50s. One was tall but otherwise nondescript. The other was plump, in a business suit, glasses and a leather overcoat that sported a pin of the Russian flag. The plump one was talking on his mobile phone about the situation in Kharkiv. He seemed well-informed. I asked a casual question—something like, “How is it there at the moment?” The man measured me up, realized that I was a native Russian speaker—I was born and raised in Moscow—and told me, “It will be fine.”
“What do you mean?” I asked him. “I hear Yanukovych has fled, and things could get violent.” “Never mind,” he answered. “Now that the Sochi [Olympics] is over, we will sort them out,” he said with a smile, which made me highly uncomfortable. He didn’t specify who “them” was—he didn’t have to.
I have met men like this before, while reporting about the KGB and its long post-Soviet afterlife in today’s Russia. But there was something particularly nasty about those two. They spoke softly, in half-jokes that gave you goose bumps.
http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2014/03/ukraine-revolution-crimea-diary-russia-105145.html?hp=pm_1#.UzcpHfl5PAw
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