A university friend of mine worked for a couple of years at the Moscow office of the law firm where he was hired as a young graduate.

He recounted attending one tense negotiation over a commercial deal at which the opposite number turned up flanked by a couple of hefty 'assistants'.

My friend's client was reluctant to sign the proposed deal, and his lawyer (my friend) agreed that the terms were unacceptable.

"I don't think you understand the situation," said the guy across the table, at which point his sidekicks pulled back their overcoat lapels to reveal the machine pistols tucked into their inside pockets.

And that was in the early days of Yeltsin's presidency.

The client changed his mind, and my friend got a transfer to the Paris office soon afterwards. He missed the company ice hockey league, though.