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Новосибирск красавицы Сибири
Novosibirsk’s Siberian Beauties

Маяк засекреченная ядерная катастрофа
Mayak: The Secret Nuclear Catastrophe

Таргиз поликлиника на рельсах
Targiz: A Hospital on Rails

Anna Yuzhakova takes her laptop computer with her to the restaurant car. She wants to show her international visitor the many charms of Siberian beauties. They are the result, she says, of years of mixed marriages by citizens from different republics of the former Soviet Union.
Anna is a scout. She discovers new talents for the Noah Models agency in St. Petersburg.
She is herself a former model. Four times a year she crosses her native region by train searching for the next top models, the ones who will one day strut the catwalks of Paris or New York.
Her travelling companion, Stephane Hababou, watches the photos of would-be models scroll across the screen. He’s also a scout. He represents the prestigious Marilyn agency in Paris.
It’s his first trip to Siberia. Hababou says it’s the best way for him to find new prospects ahead of his competition.
There’s not a moment to waste. Anna and Stephane stop in every large city of the region, holding a casting call that is open to all.
About 50 teen girls in black undergarments and stiletto heels greet Anna and Stephane at every stop. Some move nervously. Others proudly show off their curves.
The presence of this visitor from Paris ramps up the pressure. Everyone knows Hababou holds the key to a possible career abroad. It’s an opportunity to follow both an American and French dream, a chance to escape the daily drudgery of life in Siberia.
Anna invites Marina Korotkova to step forward. The 17-year-old barely has the time to take two steps before a cutting remark welcomes her into the world of modelling, even if pronounced under the guise of humour. “Marina is a little overweight.” At 93 centimetres, her hips are too wide. The visitors still take a few photos and recommend she go on a diet.
Russia’s largest modelling school is in Novosibirsk. It’s a unique breeding ground for girls who start training as early as age 10 or 12. They learn fashion photography techniques and how to sway their hips on a catwalk.
Fifteen-year-old Kristina Churina, a recent graduate, catches Stephane Hababou’s eye. If she loses a little weight, she could end up in Paris within the year, modeling the creations of top designers.
But few are chosen. Anna selects about 30 young women during each of her Siberian scouting trips. Only a fraction of them will ever end up with real modelling careers.
To be ready to seize the opportunity if presented with it, Kristina has been taking intensive English courses. She also has a plan B. She’s studying tourism and hopes to one day manage a large hotel.
Anna Yuzhakova takes her laptop computer with her to the restaurant car. She wants to show her international visitor the many charms of Siberian beauties. They are the result, she says, of years of mixed marriages by citizens from different republics of the former Soviet Union.
Anna is a scout. She discovers new talents for the Noah Models agency in St. Petersburg.
She is herself a former model. Four times a year she crosses her native region by train searching for the next top models, the ones who will one day strut the catwalks of Paris or New York.
Her travelling companion, Stephane Hababou, watches the photos of would-be models scroll across the screen. He’s also a scout. He represents the prestigious Marilyn agency in Paris.
It’s his first trip to Siberia. Hababou says it’s the best way for him to find new prospects ahead of his competition.
There’s not a moment to waste. Anna and Stephane stop in every large city of the region, holding a casting call that is open to all.
About 50 teen girls in black undergarments and stiletto heels greet Anna and Stephane at every stop. Some move nervously. Others proudly show off their curves.
The presence of this visitor from Paris ramps up the pressure. Everyone knows Hababou holds the key to a possible career abroad. It’s an opportunity to follow both an American and French dream, a chance to escape the daily drudgery of life in Siberia.
Anna invites Marina Korotkova to step forward. The 17-year-old barely has the time to take two steps before a cutting remark welcomes her into the world of modelling, even if pronounced under the guise of humour. “Marina is a little overweight.” At 93 centimetres, her hips are too wide. The visitors still take a few photos and recommend she go on a diet.
Russia’s largest modelling school is in Novosibirsk. It’s a unique breeding ground for girls who start training as early as age 10 or 12. They learn fashion photography techniques and how to sway their hips on a catwalk.
Fifteen-year-old Kristina Churina, a recent graduate, catches Stephane Hababou’s eye. If she loses a little weight, she could end up in Paris within the year, modeling the creations of top designers.
But few are chosen. Anna selects about 30 young women during each of her Siberian scouting trips. Only a fraction of them will ever end up with real modelling careers.
To be ready to seize the opportunity if presented with it, Kristina has been taking intensive English courses. She also has a plan B. She’s studying tourism and hopes to one day manage a large hotel.
Siberia is known around the world for its frigid temperatures. But in the world of fashion, the region is famous for being home to the most beautiful women in the world.
The measuring tape is king. Minimum height: 172 centimetres (5 feet, 6 inches). Maximum hips: 90 centimetres (35.4 inches).
Casting calls are open to all and attract about 60 hopeful young women every time they are held.
The measuring tape is unforgiving. With hips measuring 93 centimetres (36.6 inches), Marina Korotkova is considered “a little fat.”
Stephane Hababou, from the Marilyn agency in Paris, has come to Siberia to find the most promising beauties before his rivals do.
Anna Yuzhakova (centre), herself a former model, visits Siberia four times a year on behalf of the Noah modeling agency in St. Petersburg.
Anna discovers 30 to 40 fresh and interesting faces every month.
Anastasia Akhmameteva catches the eye of Stephane Hababou. Her ticket to Paris is within reach.
For the ones left behind, the rejection is often brutal.
15-year-old Kristina Churina just graduated from Novosibirsk’s modelling school and has caught the attention of the Paris agency.
But Stephane Hababou hesitates about Kristina: “If she loses weight, we’ll see see how she changes.”
Siberia is considered a modelling reservoir, thanks to ethnic mixing.
A little powder, and barely pubescent girls turn into femmes fatales.
A fashion show after the casting call allows scouts to observe the models in real conditions.
For many young women from small villages, modelling offers a chance to travel and earn a lot of money.

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by PAUL HARRIS and CHRISTIAN GYSIN, Daily Mail
Sarah Payne is a name few parents will ever forget. The summer holidays had barely started when she was snatched from a cornfield and bundled into the back of a van, another victim to add to Britain's bleak catalogue of abducted children.
But there was something about the disappearance of this bright-eyed eight-year- old that dominated the thoughts of parents across the land.
She had been kidnapped in daylight just a short distance from her grandparents' home.
For weeks afterwards, her little face beamed out almost everywhere from ' missing' posters or newspaper appeals.
Practically every day, you could catch her increasingly desperate parents on a TV screen somewhere, pleading for help, refusing to give up hope.
So when hope died, and Sarah's naked body was found in a dismal roadside grave, there could hardly have been a mother or father anywhere who didn't imagine that it could so easily have been their own child.
The perverted irony of this case is that as far as Sarah's killer was concerned, it might just as well have been.
Any little girl would have done for Roy Whiting, on any day.
Had the tragedy of chance not thrown them together that summer's evening two years ago, then some other parents, somewhere else, would almost certainly have been in mourning.
He did not stalk Sarah Payne. He had never met her before and had no connection with her school or family.
But Roy Whiting was ever ready to take an opportunity.
We now know he had kidnapped and indecently assaulted a young schoolgirl before. He couldn't get the thought of children out of his sick mind.
He had already prepared the back of his white van like a sealed prison cell, with all the necessary equipment for abducting and assaulting a little girl, right down to the rope, the nylon-tie handcuffs and the Johnson's baby-oil.
He spent the day cruising three parks, a funfair and a boating lake. He didn't have long to wait.
Some time around 7.50pm on July 1 last year, Sarah Payne was making her way out of the cornfield at Kingston Gorse, West Sussex, after playing with her sister and brothers at a rope-swing play area popular with local children.
In a disastrous coincidence, it appears she simply stumbled into Whiting's path. He suddenly-found himself presented with an eight-year- old girl in her favourite blue dress and little black shoes.
Yet the chances of the two coinciding would have been massively reduced, or even eliminated, had Whiting's twisted predilection for young girls not been left to develop by those who might have done something about it.
For it transpires that Whiting had been convicted five years earlier of abducting a nine-year-old schoolgirl and subjecting her to a disgusting attack.
It does not take much imagination to identify a pattern in his actions.
Once again, it was a sunny Saturday and she was playing in the street. He snatched her, dragged her into his car and took her on a terrifying drive to a secluded spot in West Sussex.
There, he told her he had a knife and a rope then ordered her to strip naked.
He assaulted her and tried to force her to commit indecent acts.
It was 90 minutes before he allowed her out of the car.
When he later appeared in court, however, a psychiatrist told the judge in a medical report that Whiting was 'not a paedophile'.
Furthermore, Whiting volunteered to undergo treatment for his perversions in prison.
His pathetic explanation for the offences - to which he pleaded guilty - was that something 'just snapped'.
First, it allowed Judge John Gower to sentence him to only four years in prison (the maximum sentence for indecent assault is ten years, and the jail term for kidnap is normally between five years and life).
Second, going to prison only as an unclassified sex-offender meant he never received any of the attention the authorities afford paedophiles, both to help them and to protect potential victims.
Nor was he segregated with other child-sex offenders, incidentally --he avoided retribution from fellow inmates by claiming he had been jailed for a car-ringing scam.
Although he had assured the court he would undergo voluntary treatment for his perversions, he never did.
Neither did he take up the option of treatment under licence once freed.
Crucially, no one bothered to check. There wasn't even any mechanism in place to do so.
The first time anyone identified his perversion was when a probation officer opposed his parole application because he had not admitted culpability for what he had done.
She believed Whiting was 'a predatory paedophile' who would re- offend and possibly kill next time.
Parole was refused then - but Whiting was nevertheless released in November 1997 after serving just over half his sentence.
It was only then that he came under any kind of structured scrutiny.
The national register of sexoffenders had come into operation while Whiting was in prison and he signed it after he was freed.
Inspector Paul Williams, an intelligence officer with a brief to monitor sexoffendersin the Sussex area, visitedhim at home.
The fact that he was on this list, and because of what Williams knew about him, was the reason he would so quickly become a suspect for the Sarah Payne murder.
Mr Williams said that when he heard about Sarah's disappearance, he put Whiting 'at the top of my list'.
Yet at Christmas 1997 Whiting was essentially on the loose again. It would have been impossible --and unnecessary at that stage - for police to keep a constant watch on him.
After all, he did not shape his life in the classic style of paedophilia. Perhaps he was too clever for that.
He even showed some signs of reform - getting rid of a stash of pornographic magazines and videos from his home, for example.
He categorically told police when questioned about children: 'I keep away from all that now. I've learned my lesson.'
Yet there would later be signals that flagged up his continuing sexual interests.
In Littlehampton, some time after the first police visit, he moved to a flat overlooking the beach and a children's playground.
Even his work would not get in the way of his hobby. In the past, he had organised his schedule as a mechanic at a local garage so he could take cars on road tests at the exact time girls were walking home from school.
Now he would make time to go out 'window-shopping' in his car, cruising parks and playgrounds.
Three years later, when Sarah Payne became his victim, he was also much wiser.
The only reason he was caught last time was because police were given a good description of the abductor and his car. This time there would be no witnesses.
So were the danger signs there when he was convicted in 1995?
The mother of his first victim is in no doubt. The dark-haired housewife, who cannot be named without identifying her daughter, told the Daily Mail: 'It staggers and angers me that he was not classed as a paedophile.
'I would like to stand in front of the judge and those who defended Whiting then, and ask them how they feel now. I am sure Sarah Payne's parents feel the same.'
Quite what turned Whiting from an unremarkable teenager into a monster who preyed on children seems to have escaped the 'experts'. But with hindsight, there were ominous foundations.
was born in Horsham, West Sussex, on January 26, 1959. He grew up in Crawley, one of the 'new towns' created to relieve pressure on London, from where his parents had moved.
It was a pleasant modern suburb, but Whiting's upbringing was hardly idyllic.
He was abused as a child by a close relative. As long ago as 1965, when Roy was six, his father George, a sheet metal worker, was cautioned after an indecent act with a girl at the local swimming baths.
George and his wife Pamela had two other children, a boy, three years older than Roy, and a girl, six years younger.

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