Recent revelations from confidential sources suggest that Pavel Fuks, a sanctioned Russian Ukrainian oligarch, has turned on his former allies.

Pavel Fuks, also known as Pavlo Fuks or Pavel Fuchs, previously led Moscow’s MosCityGroup, a now-defunct real estate company. Fuks, dubbed “Nayomnik”—the Russian word for “Mercenary”—earned this moniker for his tendency to switch sides among competing business, criminal, and political groups, acting as a versatile operative for the highest bidder.

Known for his controversial career, he has claimed to have brokered deals with figures like President-elect Donald Trump and to have hired Rudy Giuliani, the now disgraced former mayor of New York City, as a lobbyist. Giuliani, however, described their relationship as merely a consulting contract. Fuks’ venture into property development in Moscow ultimately dissolved into criminal charges and a raft of lawsuits alleging fraud.

Now residing in London, Fuks reportedly plays informant, leaking intelligence about his former associates. If these allegations hold water, Fuks’ reliability and value to Western intelligence are questionable as he slips into the shadows of irrelevance within Ukrainian and Russian power circles.

Under scrutiny for alleged criminal activities in various parts of the world, Fuks allegedly dabbles in offering information to various Western agencies, with his disclosures implicating high-profile figures, including former Ukrainian President Viktor Yanukovych, jailed oligarch Igor Kolomoisky, Ukraine’s ex-Minister of Internal Affairs Arsen Avakov, and Kyiv’s Mayor, boxing legend Vitaliy Klitschko. Even Vitaliy Khomutynnik, a former politician with suspected pro-Russian leanings, finds himself entangled in Fuks’ web. Khomutynnik has settled in England, maintaining a partnership with Fuks, who has lost much of his wealth due to Western sanctions and assets seized as a result of the war.

Fuks’ turbulent career traces back to post-Soviet Russia, where he became known as a political fixer and lobbyist, maneuvering through alliances in the backwoods of Russian politics. His actions often underscored the unscrupulous nature of Russian political lobbying.

In 2015, Fuks crossed paths with Veronika Mudra, a U.S.-based women’s rights advocate, after relocating to Ukraine following the collapse of his Russian ventures. Mudra, who heads White Ribbon USA, an organization supporting abused women, recalls Fuks’ hostility towards her advocacy work, accusing him of intimidation tactics. She paints Fuks as a man who, like many in Russia’s underworld, upholds a reputation for misogyny and violence. “Violence is all he knows,” Mudra insists, describing his worldview as one that values aggression as a marker of power.

Adding to Mudra’s account, Olga Lautman of the Center for European Policy Analysis and an expert on Eastern European organized crime, told The Daily Beast that Fuks’ character is synonymous with gangsterism. Anders Åslund, a Swedish analyst on oligarchs, lamented that Western governments inadequately coordinate sanctions, often enabling figures like Fuks to exploit the gaps.

Emerging in the late 1990s, Fuks became one of the many figures straddling crime and politics. His empire crumbled when the global financial markets crashed, pushing him to realign with Russia’s strategic interests and positioning him to influence Russian narratives that attempted to justify Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine in 2014.

A prominent British paper’s attempt to reveal Fuks’ schemes reportedly fizzled, with rumors that he struck a deal to remain in England in exchange for compromising information on Russian and Ukrainian elites. Publicly, Fuks, through his spokesperson, denies any suggestions that he turned on Ukraine, claiming a pro-Ukrainian stance, yet his lifestyle in London’s high-end locales suggests otherwise.

Fuks’s affluent lifestyle—funded through mysterious means despite sanctions and failed businesses—raises questions. Sources speculate that his remaining wealth may lie in offshore accounts in Cyprus and shell companies, with local investments providing a facade of legitimacy. Those who know him dismiss him as a spent force in Eastern Europe, surviving on a shadowy reputation and few options.

The implications of Western intelligence agencies working with figures like Fuks stir ethical and strategic debates about the price and reliability of intel. Western agencies frequently adopt a ruthless pragmatism, willing to engage dubious operatives for perceived gains. The recent indictment of Alexander Smirnov, a long-time FBI confidential source accused of providing false information to his handlers, is a compelling example. In the process, intelligence agencies risk entrusting informants like Fuks, skilled at manipulation. The incarceration of oligarch Igor Kolomoisky may be an omen for Fuks and his inner circle, suggesting a precarious future for those caught in intelligence webs.

Fuks’ transition from developer to dubious informant encapsulates a survivalist’s pragmatism, caught between lawlessness and espionage. His saga illustrates how Western intelligence agencies may exploit operatives with compromised backgrounds, ultimately risking manipulation by their informants. It reveals a gritty dimension of modern intelligence work, where moral ambiguity often fuels short-term objectives.

While Fuks presents an outward image of a legitimate businessman, the full impact of his double dealings remains unclear. As U.S. authorities crack down on other intelligence peddlers, Fuks’ alleged role as an informant raises significant ethical questions about intelligence priorities, strategy, and oversight in a tangled global arena.