Overseeing a Russian billionaire’s mansion was a dream job for Nerijus Kuskys. But after a raid by the National Crime Agency, it became a Kafkaesque nightmare for the Lithuanian, he tells Mark Hollingsworth
At 7.30am on December 1, 2022, a 38-year-old Lithuanian estate manager called Nerijus Kuskys drove into Athlone House, the imposing Victorian mansion in Highgate, north London, owned by the Russian oligarch Mikhail Fridman. He was shocked by the scene that greeted him. The driveway was full of police cars and no less than 52 National Crime Agency (NCA) officers wearing masks were walking around the grounds, behaving as if it were a drugs raid.
As Kuskys walked into his office he was concerned by the police presence and so removed his savings from the safe and handed the package to a security guard for safekeeping. At first he was ignored, but as he walked towards the house an officer shouted: “What are you doing? Hands up!”
Most of the NCA officers appeared bewildered by their role. “They did not look at us or speak to us,” Kuskys recalls. Later the NCA admitted that the search warrant was unlawful and made multiple errors in its execution, according to High Court documents.
The officers spent the day following the domestic staff around while their boss, Fridman, was taken to the police station for questioning. For Kuskys and his colleagues the experience felt like a raid by the Russian security service, the FSB. “I was treated like a common criminal and animal,” he says. “We were all shocked and scared.”
However, for Kuskys and his colleagues that day was just the beginning of a nightmare that resulted in them having no money for food, bills or rent after their bank accounts were frozen and closed with no warning or explanation. The staff — cleaners, housekeepers, gardeners — were Ukrainians, Lithuanians and Poles, and there were no Russians. They are the forgotten victims of the Ukraine war’s sanctions.
Kuskys had moved to the UK in 2008 to make a new life. At first the streets of London were not paved with gold. He worked as a porter and receptionist in hotels and serviced apartments. Despite being employed, Kuskys struggled and once slept in a storage unit because he could not afford the rent for a flat. But he was persistent and believed that if he worked hard, he would be treated well and rewarded. In December 2020 he landed his dream job when he was hired to manage Athlone House, which had been restored by the billionaire Fridman.
But when Russia invaded Ukraine in March 2022, Kuskys’s dream turned into a nightmare. While most oligarchs fled the UK, Fridman mistakenly believed he would not be sanctioned and stayed in London. From his perspective, his wealth was not derived from Kremlin contracts and his business empire did not fund the Russian war machine. While his riches originated from the controversial privatisation of lucrative Russian state-owned assets during the 1990s, Fridman regarded himself as an entrepreneur. He was once filmed shaking Putin’s hand as one of a group of businessmen but never met the president privately. He stayed out of politics.
Fridman was deeply shocked when his UK assets were frozen. Despite his opposition to the war, the billionaire was reduced to a monthly allowance and required to apply for a licence from the government to pay the salaries of his staff.
The licence took nine months to arrive at Athlone House — on December 22, 2022. It was devastating news for the domestic staff. The licence stated that Fridman could pay the arrears of their unpaid wages since March but after that he would not have access to funds to pay their salaries. Only the seven private security guards could be paid wages. Most of the staff then worked for free, living off their savings and loans from their families, but the others were suddenly unemployed.
“We all believed it was a temporary measure and British fair play and common sense would prevail,” Kuskys recalls. “We thought the government would understand we were not the enemy and just ordinary working people who did not deserve such harsh treatment.”
The impoverished employees desperately needed the arrears to support their families in the UK and in Ukraine, Poland and Lithuania. It took another two months before the money was transferred, but their bank accounts were frozen and so they could not access the funds. The bewildered staff were frustrated, depressed and angry.
Meanwhile, for Kuskys, life in the promised land had become more stressful. On June 22, 2022, his account at Barclays Bank was frozen and it was later closed with no warning or explanation. He was given four days to withdraw his remaining funds. Suddenly he had no bank account and no money.
Stunned and distraught, Kuskys visited his branch but he was met with blank faces, no answers and no information. “We cannot give you an explanation,” the manager said. “You need to call head office.” Kuskys did so on multiple occasions, but after a long delay was told: “I will transfer you.” After waiting for several hours on the phone he gave up. It was a Kafkaesque experience. To this day he has not been told why his accounts have been frozen.
When approached for comment, Barclays Bank told The Times: “Barclays Bank is complying with its legal and regulatory obligations. We are unable to share any further information or discuss individual accounts.”
The beleaguered Lithuanian feels confused and upset by his treatment. He strongly opposes the war and Putin. “I was shocked by the invasion of Ukraine because I have a lot of Ukrainian friends,” he tells me. “My main concern was that Russia would also invade Lithuania, and the implications for my family.”
Kuskys adamantly denies being privy to Fridman’s financial transactions or knowledge of his assets. “I have done absolutely nothing wrong and so why am I being punished?” he says. “This persecution happens in Russia, not in Great Britain. This is why I came to this country, because I wanted to live in a place where there is freedom and the rule of law, where people are only punished if they commit a crime.”
It is hard to believe, but Kuskys’s life became more difficult. At 7am on December 20, 2022, six NCA officers knocked loudly on the door of a flat that he used to rent. The officers told the tenant they were looking for Kuskys. But they had the wrong address. When the tenant called Kuskys he knew they would arrest him. “I expected to get arrested, but I was happy to talk because I had nothing to hide,” he says. He then drove to work screaming with frustration and anger.
When Kuskys arrived at Athlone House at 7.40am, the NCA officers were waiting. He was handcuffed, driven to Bishopsgate police station and arrested for alleged “conspiracy to conceal property” by passing on a large quantity of cash to another employee and asking him to leave the premises while a warrant was being executed. He was also accused of assisting his boss, Fridman, of “evading sanctions placed on him under the Russia Regulations Act through payroll activities”. In fact, the cash was his life savings and nothing to do with his employer.
In response Kuskys told the police: “Since the summer of 2022, when Barclays closed my bank account, I stored my savings in the gatehouse security office. On December 1, 2022, I was called and told there was a raid at the main house. I was not told who carried out this raid but I was concerned for the safety of my life savings and so I drove to the gatehouse and asked a security guard to take the money away.”
Kuskys was released on bail, and the police confiscated his passport because he was regarded as a flight risk. “I thought that imposing bail was ridiculous because if I was a flight risk then I would have left the country during the three weeks between the police raid on December 1 and my arrest on December 20,” he said. Today, seven months later, the estate manager remains on bail and no charges have been filed against him. But his bank accounts remain frozen.
By early 2023 the closure of their accounts had resulted in serious financial hardship and emotional stress for the domestic staff, not just Kuskys. A new licence had been applied for, but as of July 2023 there is no sign of it being authorised.
Fridman is still living at Athlone House and is on a monthly allowance that covers only basic living expenses. Only four security guards and three domestic staff are left at the house along with Kuskys.
The irony is that many of the sanctioned staff are Ukrainians whose families back home are suffering from Putin’s war. One Ukrainian housekeeper needed to return to her country to help her sick mother who was in hospital. She borrowed enough to pay for the flight. But when she arrived in Kyiv, she was distraught. Her mother required more treatment and she could not pay for it because her UK bank account was frozen. She was devastated, and for most of the visit slept in the bath because of the explosions and relentless sirens. For the housekeeper it was upsetting and confusing because she could not understand why she had been targeted by the UK authorities.
Today Kuskys is thinking the unthinkable — of emigrating from the UK. “It was always my dream to live in the UK but now it is a nightmare,” he told me. “I moved here like a lot of east Europeans because we thought the UK was a fair country with a rule of law, big opportunities if you work hard. I cannot understand why they are doing this.
“I was never involved in finance or money laundering, never had any issues with law enforcement. The UK government is behaving like the KGB and FSB. I feel betrayed and am thinking of leaving after this situation is over. The hypocrisy is staggering. The UK authorities were happy to let the oligarchs come to London, and take their money, but only now are they accusing them of financial crimes and supporting Putin.”
Oligarchs such as Fridman are rich, powerful and connected enough to survive sanctions. After all, their assets will be unfrozen after the war, and they will have access to hundreds of millions of pounds. The real innocent victims of sanctions are ordinary working people who rely on their salaries and are suffering through no fault of their own.
Fridman refused to comment about the sanctions case, but said: “I deeply regret that, although completely unintentionally, I caused serious problems for my employees. I have worked with them for a long time. I have great respect for them and [am] grateful for their professionalism and excellent human qualities.”
A spokesman for the NCA said: “Investigations by the NCA’s Combatting Kleptocracy Cell are based on alleged criminal sanctions evasion and high-end money laundering. While the NCA accepts the warrant contained technical errors, the NCA acted in good faith, and we will continue to pursue this case. The NCA operates with integrity and holds itself to the highest standards of professionalism and we have reviewed internal processes to ensure technical errors are not repeated.”
Comentários