As I, Chris, sat eating what was loosely described as lunch in the refectory at the infamous Chernobyl power plant, my foolish travelling companion and long-suffering school friend turned and looked me firmly in the eyes… “do not go drinking with this man, you will end up somewhere you weren’t planning to go”. It was March 2015 and the snow was coming down heavily outside. Similar utterings followed the next year, as armed police stalked us in a disused Soviet military base. Chris was ace. He did the stuff of adventure books. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him.