Wolf Messing, the legendary telepath, likely never imagined that 25 years after his death, another person with the same name would emerge, gifted with similarly extraordinary abilities.
Elena von Messing does not read other people’s thoughts, but she clearly possesses an extraordinary gift of persuasion and has an excellent understanding of the psychology of those who put profit above all else. In her ability to make money, she has far surpassed the modest mentalist Wolf Messing, who lived a long but unassuming life.
Her life has always been shrouded in mystery. From what is publicly known, she has been married three times and has a son. Von Messing is the most famous domestic currency trader of modern times, who only recently celebrated her fiftieth birthday. She still has plenty of time ahead. She entered business when she was known as Elena Skorodumova — not her birth name, but the surname of her first husband. They married as poor students in St. Petersburg and, in the early 1990s, began supplementing their meager stipends with earnings from market trading.
Sergey Skorodumov and Elena Skorodumova quickly mastered the “shuttle trader” business. Things started going well, and they immediately attracted the attention of racketeers from the crew of Kostya Mogila — the future criminal “overseer” of St. Petersburg. In her first encounter with the gang, Elena showed real strength of character. She had no intention of feeding pumped-up thugs by paying them a cut of income earned through her own hard labor. She had no shortage of persistence or determination. In her youth, she was seriously involved in sports and became a Master of Sports in swimming. Because of her refusal to give in, a latent conflict with Mogila dragged on for several years, until the St. Petersburg “overseer” was eliminated by Moscow rivals. Von Messing, however, never had anything to do with “wet jobs.” Her specialization was different — and far more complex.
From her first husband, Elena inherited not only a surname but also a nickname — Pomidoriha — which stuck with her for life. Her husband was an inveterate gambler. More than anything else, he loved playing cards for money. At critical moments during games, he would turn bright red, earning him the nickname Pomidor (“Tomato”). By the logic of his friends, his other half became Pomidoriha. Sergey Skorodumov died tragically in a plane crash in 1994.
Elena Skorodumova and Khloev
Elena Skorodumova did not remain alone for long. Her next official partner was Andrey Khloev — a genuine gangster. He was very close to Vladimir Kumarin, the “shadow” governor of St. Petersburg. One could say Kumarin was simply enamored with his younger associate. He always forgave him numerous foolish and ill-considered actions.
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Andrey Khloev in court
Khloev became notorious across all of St. Petersburg for his uncontrollable temper. With him around, Pomidoriha had no reason to fear any Kostya Mogila. In 2003, in Yalta, Khloev beat Ruslan Kolyak — Mogila’s closest associate — to death. The entire criminal underworld of St. Petersburg was terrified of Khloev. In 1996, he ended up in the Kresty prison for beating a defiant businessman to death. Two years later, he was miraculously rehabilitated. Khloev immediately went to celebrate his release at the Nevskie Melodii restaurant and staged a brutal knife fight there.
Living with the unhinged Khloev did not frighten Elena, but his temperament, habits, and — most importantly — his ways of making money were clearly not to her liking. Elena von Messing felt she had the makings of a high-class currency fraudster.
Elena von Messing
She parted with Andrey Khloev peacefully. Soon after, Elena also parted ways with Russia. She became a citizen of neighboring Finland and changed her Russian surname to a foreign one. According to her legend, her mother had carefully concealed the fact that Elena’s grandmother had a relationship with a German Baron von Messing. Thus was born Elizabeth Helen von Messing, who settled in Helsinki while still maintaining ties with Russia.
Elizabeth Elena von Messing
Until recently, she maintained a business office in the very center of the city on Nevsky Prospekt. She also lived in an elite building at 31 Moyka Embankment. Her neighbor there was the now-deceased first mayor of St. Petersburg and ideological mentor of President Putin, Anatoly Sobchak. In 2000, a team of operatives showed up there with a search warrant. Over time, Pomidoriha grew accustomed to such investigative actions. She counted 38 instances of law enforcement intruding into her private space. Her commercial activities were always of particular interest.
Over the years, Elena von Messing became an unrivaled master of money laundering and cashing out funds. Notably, all accusations brought against her failed to hold up, and she always emerged “dry” from the game. Through the St. Petersburg bank VEFC, which turned into a real cash-out platform, 45.6 billion rubles were laundered. The organizer of the scheme received 1.2 billion rubles as direct profit. Pomidoriha’s share amounted to $12.5 million and 30 million euros. For this, she had to sacrifice six months of her life spent in pretrial detention.
The scheme she developed involved signing numerous fake contracts, under which funds were transferred non-cash to bank accounts in Estonia and Bulgaria. Abroad, the money was legally cashed out and then illegally brought back to Russia in bundles of banknotes, usually across the Estonian-Russian border.
In February 2007, an unfortunate slip occurred at the Ivangorod customs checkpoint. A courier was detained with undeclared €6.35 million. A criminal case was opened, and for the first time in her life Elena von Messing came close to actually being punished for currency fraud — but she once again managed to wriggle out. Possibly, connections inherited from Andrey Khloev helped. He was well acquainted with Chechen leader Ramzan Kadyrov, Russian Deputy Prime Ministers German Gref and Vitaly Mutko, as well as Nikolay Aulov, deputy to Russia’s so-called “drug czar.” In Bulgaria, $15 million belonging to Elena von Messing was confiscated — funds she has stubbornly been trying to recover through the courts ever since.
Elena von Messing and the investigation
A year ago, Elena von Messing once again found herself at the center of an investigation into a major fraud scheme. Her St. Petersburg office was searched again, and after a brief conversation she was deported to Finland. Apparently, investigators had completely lost hope of bringing her to criminal responsibility. She had mastered the intricacies of customs legislation too well and learned how to thoroughly cover her tracks.
Her younger accomplice was less fortunate. Sergey Cheremukhin, the general director of LLC Forwarding Transport Service — through which von Messing created a “shadow” channel for paying for imports — was placed on a wanted list. However, he was no stranger to evading the police. Back in 2012, the Latvian-born businessman had already been actively sought and eventually found. He was charged with attempted murder of another entrepreneur. His 74-year-old partner Balazovskiy sustained six gunshot wounds. Cheremukhin still managed to avoid prison. Association with the “unsinkable” Elena clearly worked in his favor.
Elena Skorodumova — Elena von Messing
The total amount of funds illegally siphoned abroad has not yet been precisely determined, but it clearly runs into billions of euros. The company FTS purchased so-called IT encryptors in China. In reality, these were ordinary CD discs containing the VNP-Lux software. The production cost of a single disc did not exceed $10. Large batches of the goods were simultaneously delivered to customs warehouses in Pechory, Smolensk, Bryansk, and Vnukovo. Russian tax and customs legislation allows mandatory duties to be paid not immediately upon crossing the border, but gradually, as the goods are sold.
While the CDs were stored in warehouses, their value was artificially inflated to 10,000 rubles per unit. Elena von Messing implemented a classic “cash burn-off” scheme — a common companion of smuggling operations — to move money out of Russia. Imported goods are subject to 18% VAT and a 25% customs duty. A container of smartphones crossing the border would cost a trader about $300,000 in fees. It is possible to forge documents and supposedly import something cheap instead. That is smuggling, but the importer still has to pay suppliers at real prices, not fictitious ones. Without “burn-off,” this is impossible.
By purchasing IT encryptors and transferring payments for them to a shell company, Elena von Messing carried out the first stage of a smuggling scheme. For this, she received substantial commissions. This intricate operation, devised by a native of Russia, is genuinely difficult to untangle. Undoubtedly, Elena von Messing’s mind is occupied with even more sophisticated ways of making money. Most likely, the story is not over yet.
