I. A Divorce

The Rolls Building, a new concrete-and-glass super-courthouse, opened off Fetter Lane, in London, on October 3 of last year. At nine that morning, a dozen and a half clerks began wheeling boxes of pre-trial testimony and other documents into Courtroom 26, where the first case in the building’s history was to be heard. About 30 computer monitors had been set up, each readied for one of the participating lawyers who began to fill the room. In the back, a few rows of chairs were reserved for the press and public. There were not nearly enough, and many reporters scrambled unsuccessfully for a seat. The case in Courtroom 26 fell under the jurisdiction of the commercial court, and the combatants were two of the world’s most controversial Russian oligarchs, both now living in Britain.

At 10:05 a.m. the younger of the two men walked in, causing a small commotion. Roman Abramovich, 46, is the third-wealthiest man in the United Kingdom. He was wearing a blue suit, a white shirt, and a light-blue tie; his gray beard was neatly trimmed to a length that just barely made it a beard, rather than an oversight. Abramovich, whose fortune is estimated at $12.1 billion, leads a heavily guarded life in every sense. British tabloids have placed the size of his security force at 40. He is secretive and shy. At the same time, his taste for ostentation makes him impossible not to notice. He owns the world’s largest yacht, the nearly 560-foot *Eclipse,*which is equipped with two helipads, a submarine, and, reportedly, a missile-defense system. He also owns a Boeing 767 and the Chelsea football club. Ever since buying Chelsea, in 2003, Abramovich has spent most of his time in Britain, living on an estate in West Sussex (formerly owned by the Australian media baron Kerry Packer and Jordan’s King Hussein) and in various homes around London. He has been married and divorced twice. His current girlfriend, the socialite and fashion designer Darya (Dasha) Zhukova, who bore him a son in 2009, runs Moscow’s largest and most prominent private art gallery.

At 10:08 a.m., Abramovich’s former business associate Boris Berezovsky, 66, entered the courtroom. There was speculation that he had been waiting in a car around the corner to make sure he did not arrive first. Berezovsky was wearing a blue suit, almost identical to Abramovich’s, and a white shirt with its collar open. His pate was shiny, and what was left of the salt-and-pepper hair on the sides of his head begged to be cropped. Berezovsky is one of London’s most inconvenient residents. He fled here from Russia in 2000 and was granted political asylum in 2003. Over the years, an extensive circle of business and political associates has formed around him. The most prominent of these was former secret-police agent Alexander Litvinenko, who died of polonium poisoning in London in November 2006. It has long been believed that his death was ordered by the Kremlin. London police foiled an assassination plot against Berezovsky himself. Even so, he keeps a high profile in the city, which he uses as his base for a campaign against the regime of his onetime protégé Vladimir Putin. He has called for an overthrow of Putin, has funded anti-Putin efforts, and has meddled in the politics of neighboring countries, such as Ukraine and Belarus, in the hopes of causing Putin trouble. Moscow has responded by filing criminal charges against Berezovsky and demanding his extradition, which means he cannot risk traveling either to continental Europe or to the United States for fear of being arrested. Berezovsky maintains an office in London, but he has had few business dealings in the last 10 years. His fortune, once estimated at $3 billion, has shrunk precipitously and is desperately in need of replenishment. Berezovsky’s personal life is also messy: he has six children by three different women, two of whom used to be his wives, and his romantic involvements are varied and often overlapping.

The two oligarchs and their retainers took seats on either side of the courtroom. At root, the case about to be heard was a divorce proceeding. Berezovsky was the one seeking justice. He had been, in his telling, as wronged as a man could be. He had lost money, social status, and, in Abramovich, one of his most trusted friends. As is often the case in divorce proceedings, he was seeking to be compensated for his losses—though money could not possibly salve the hurt he felt. And, as is also the case in many divorce cases, the respondent, Abramovich, claimed that he owed nothing and had never done anything to violate the terms of the relationship. Indeed, he denied that the relationship had ever been a marriage.