24 January, 18:38
How two independent schemes simultaneously supplied Russian aviation with American parts in defiance of sanctions
On May 18, 2022 — three months after the war began — a naturalized U.S. citizen from New Jersey who owned an aviation parts supply company sent a brief email to two recipients.
"Dear Yana and [name redacted]," he wrote. "Let me make an initial introduction. Please connect by phone and discuss details."
Yana was Yana Leonova, a Belarusian citizen and logistics manager for the Russian airline Severo-Zapad. The second recipient was an Armenian citizen, operator of a company in Yerevan that would soon become a key link in the supply chain.
At that same time, in a prestigious Delhi neighborhood, Indian businessman Sanjay Kaushik was at the MEBA aviation exhibition in Dubai, seeking contacts in the Russian market and trying to figure out how to work with airlines cut off from Western suppliers.
And somewhere in the small Austrian town of Stotzing, 40 kilometers from Vienna, Markus Kaltenecker, owner of Yoracraft GmbH, was already preparing initial commercial proposals for sophisticated avionics for someone named Evgeniy in Moscow.
Two independent international networks. One destination: Russia. One transit hub: Armenia. The same clients: sanctioned Russian airlines. And the same fate: both schemes were ultimately uncovered by U.S. investigators.
But between Kaushik's arrest in October 2024 and the filing of charges against Leonova in September of that year, months passed during which both networks continued operating in parallel, sometimes unaware of each other's existence. Court documents published by the U.S. Department of Justice and investigative materials by journalist Alexey Shumanov, published in his Telegram channel, allow us to reconstruct both stories — two parallel universes of smuggling that ultimately converged at a single point: U.S. federal courts.
STORY ONE: The Belarusian-American Channel
"Allow Me to Introduce"
That May 18, 2022 message, documented in a federal court indictment, marked the beginning of a scheme that over the following months would smuggle nearly one million dollars' worth of equipment into Russia.
Severo-Zapad airline operated a fleet of expensive business jets, including two Airbus A321s with registration numbers RA-73027 and RA-73028, as well as a Bombardier Global 6000 numbered RA-67241. Before the war, parts for these aircraft were ordered directly from manufacturers and certified distributors in the U.S. and Europe. Now that had become impossible.
Leonova needed new channels. And the American from New Jersey offered a solution.
First Delivery: Windshields
On May 31, 2022, the American sent an email to the Armenian intermediary with the subject line "Invoice 50."
"[Name redacted], attached is the invoice and packing list for Order 50. Yana will send the order today. We need to process this invoice so I can purchase the equipment. These are windshields for Airbus."
Attached were a commercial invoice and packing list for four Airbus A321 windshields: two left (part number STA320-1-9-3) and two right (STA320-2-9-3). Total cost: $58,500. In the "ship to" and "bill to" fields: the address and details of the Armenian company in Yerevan.
That same day, Leonova sent the Armenian intermediary a message: "Accept this new order from the airline and issue an invoice for payment." Attached was an official order on Severo-Zapad letterhead with a Moscow address. The order specified the same windshields with the notation: "For use on Airbus A321."
Severo-Zapad had exactly two such aircraft. Without windshields, they couldn't fly.
On June 1, the Armenian company issued a proforma invoice to the Russian airline. On June 2, Leonova confirmed payment. Attached was a bank transfer document: $58,500 went from Severo-Zapad's account at Alfa-Bank (Moscow) to the Armenian company's account in Yerevan.
On June 8, the Armenian company transferred $82,655 — more than it received, covering its commission and expenses — to the American company's account at a New York branch of a major U.S. bank. Payment description: "Order 50."
On June 24, the cargo departed the U.S. for Armenia. The American did not indicate Russia in any document provided to the shipping company. Interesting fact: by that time, this shipping company had already officially suspended all shipments to Russia due to sanctions.
On July 7 — two weeks after arriving in Yerevan — those same four windshields departed Armenia for Russia. Final destination: Severo-Zapad airline, Moscow.
Weather Radar for a Quarter Million
On June 9, 2022, the American wrote to a supplier in Washington state requesting a multi-scanning weather radar — highly sophisticated avionics manufactured by a major U.S. producer.
"Please advise," he wrote, "does this unit have dual or military use?"
He did not inform the supplier that the radar was intended for a Russian airline.
On June 15, he sent the Armenian intermediary a commercial proposal for the radar (part number 822-2256-001) valued at $250,000. The documents listed the Armenian company as recipient.
On June 21, Leonova wrote to the Armenian intermediary: "Provide the final cost of this item (approximate weight 15-20 kg)."
On June 22, the Armenian company issued a proforma invoice to Severo-Zapad in Moscow for $295,000.
On June 27, Leonova sent an official order, specifying that the "receiver transmitter antenna RTA-4118" with part number 822-2256-001 was intended for "Global 6000 RA-67241" — an aircraft from Severo-Zapad's fleet flying between Moscow and St. Petersburg.
That same day, the American placed an official order with the Washington supplier for $235,000.
On July 1, Leonova confirmed payment. Money went from Moscow to Yerevan. On July 4, the Armenian company transferred $297,000 to the U.S. On July 5, the American paid the supplier.
On July 14, the cargo departed the U.S. for Armenia. The documents contained no mention of Russia.
On July 21 — exactly one week later — the weather radar arrived in Moscow.
The markup on this transaction was 25 percent. Participants' profit: $60,000. Of that, approximately $15-20,000 stayed in the U.S., with a similar amount in Armenia. The remainder covered Russian intermediaries' commission and shipping costs.
Fan Blades for the A321
On July 7, 2022, Leonova sent an email to the Armenian intermediary: "Send two new orders according to attachments (for 2 pairs of blades, 1 pair = 2 pieces) and issue 2 separate invoices for payment."
Attached was an order on Severo-Zapad letterhead: fan blades for Airbus A321 engines, part number 363-906-002-0, for aircraft RA-73027 and RA-73028.
Without these blades, the engines cannot operate. Without functioning engines, the planes stay grounded.
The American placed two separate orders for two pairs of blades with a U.S. supplier. Total cost: approximately $390,000.
On July 11, Leonova confirmed "half the order is paid." Attached were a proforma invoice from the Armenian company and a transfer document from Tinkoff Bank (Moscow) — another Russian bank on U.S. sanctions lists.
On July 12, Leonova wrote again: "Invoice paid in full." Another transfer from the same bank.
On July 12, the Armenian company transferred $100,000 to the U.S. On July 13 — another $97,500. Both payments marked "for blades, proforma invoice 7722-06/07/2022."
On August 2, the first pair of blades departed the U.S. for Armenia. On August 19 — the second pair.
On August 31, both pairs arrived in Russia.
"This Is Risky, I Cannot Ship Directly"
From April through September 2023, Leonova and the American repeatedly discussed the operation's risks. The American told her directly: working with her was dangerous. He could not ship goods directly to Russia — that violated export controls.
Leonova tried to reassure him. She explained that if goods went through Armenia, they were not formally being exported to Russia. Armenia is an independent country. The Armenian company is an independent buyer. What it does with the goods afterward is no longer a problem for U.S. export control.
This was the typical "transit loophole" argument. And it was completely wrong from a legal standpoint. U.S. law makes no distinction between direct and indirect exports. If at the time of shipment from the U.S. it is known or there is reason to know that the final destination is Russia, it is considered an export to Russia. And a license is required.
The license is not issued.
But the conversations continued. And the shipments continued.
By September 2023, the American was concerned enough to discuss with Leonova the possibility of ending their cooperation. But the profits were too good. The risks seemed manageable.
And in Washington, investigators were already gathering documents for an indictment.
"Keep Together and Ship to Moscow"
On May 18, 2023 — exactly one year after their initial introduction — the American wrote to the Armenian intermediary with a subject line that left no doubt about the cargo's true destination.
"Here is the AWB [air waybill] for P/N 32156622-2, pressure regulating valve... We must keep this together in Delhi and ship together with other consolidated cargo DAP Moscow."
DAP (Delivered at Place) is a standard international trade term meaning "delivery to place." The destination was stated in plain text: Moscow.
This email became one of the key pieces of evidence in the case. Despite all precautions, despite using Armenian shell companies, despite false documents — the correspondence revealed what participants were trying to hide: the final destination.
Indictment and International Warrant
On September 17, 2024, a Grand Jury of the Federal Court for the District of Columbia issued an indictment against Yana Leonova on 10 counts:
- Conspiracy to commit an offense against the United States and to defraud the United States (up to 5 years imprisonment)
- Four counts of violating the Export Control Reform Act (up to 20 years each)
- Four counts of smuggling goods from the United States (up to 10 years each)
- Conspiracy to commit money laundering (up to 20 years)
Theoretical maximum sentence: over 100 years in federal prison.
But Leonova was not arrested. Unlike Kaushik, who made the fatal mistake of flying to Miami, Leonova remains in Russia or Belarus — beyond the reach of U.S. justice.
She is listed on an international warrant. Interpol received notification. But the real probability of her extradition is zero. Russia does not extradite its citizens to the U.S. Neither does Belarus.
Leonova can live peacefully in Moscow, continue working in the aviation industry, travel around Russia and allied countries. But she has forever lost the ability to visit the West. Any country with an extradition treaty with the U.S. will arrest her at the airport.
The price of sanctions evasion for Leonova: geographical isolation. For Kaushik: 30 months in prison. For the American from New Jersey, whose fate has not yet been determined: uncertainty and fear.
STORY TWO: The Indian Route
Business Correspondence and Lies Under Oath
Until February 2022, everything was simple. Russian airline PDS Avia ordered parts directly from U.S. manufacturers. Money went directly. No intermediaries, no Armenia, no false documents.
Then came the invasion of Ukraine, and within weeks Western countries imposed an unprecedented sanctions package. By April 2022, export of virtually any aviation equipment to Russia was prohibited. Licenses were not issued. Direct shipments became impossible.
And then intermediaries entered the game.
The exact date of their first contact is unknown, but case materials indicate that by late 2022, Kaushik was actively seeking ways to work with the Russian market. In December of that year, he exchanged revealing correspondence with Mikhail Alenkin from Arcosjet company at the MEBA aviation exhibition in Dubai.
"It was a pleasure meeting you at MEBA," Kaushik wrote. "As we discussed regarding the Russian market, if you could generate business for the Western fleet — Gulfstream, Bombardier, Beechcraft, Dassault — we can support on all engines, APUs and parts."
Alenkin's reply from December 9 was crystal clear:
"Hello Sanjay. It was a pleasure meeting you and discussing your company and potential cooperation. As I told you, we no longer work in the Russian market due to international restrictions and closed our office there, but I will be happy to help you with any other business."
Kaushik's response came the same day: "I understand the situation. I am only asking to introduce our company or give me contacts of operators there. Hope you understand."
That "hope you understand" eloquently indicates that Kaushik perfectly understood the illegality of his intentions. But it did not stop him.
By spring 2023, the scheme was operating at full capacity. Orders came from Moscow — through broker Evgeniy Bezverkhniy, presumably connected to PDS Avia. Kaltenecker placed orders with U.S. suppliers. Kaushik coordinated logistics. An Armenian company in Yerevan acted as a shell buyer and transit hub.
When on September 7, 2023, a U.S. company in Oregon, following its compliance program, demanded that the buyer sign a certification regarding Russian sanctions, Kaushik signed the document without hesitation, declaring:
"Purchaser will not, directly or indirectly, export, reexport or transfer items subject to the EAR to Russia, Ukraine or Belarus in violation of the EAR or other applicable laws."
That same day — the very same day! — he already had an order from Moscow for this device.
Kaushik also signed an end-use certificate indicating that the AHRS system would be installed on an Indian civilian helicopter VT-IKR with serial number 22071. When in January 2024 an export control officer from the U.S. Department of Commerce traveled to Delhi for verification and asked Kaushik about this helicopter, the Indian confessed: the real end user was different. The registration number was randomly selected from a public registry. Kaltenecker did it simply to fill out the form.
The Smuggler's Price List
The most striking evidence in Sanjay Kaushik's case was a discovery made by investigators from the U.S. Bureau of Industry and Security on Markus Kaltenecker's laptop. Among thousands of files seized under court order was an Excel spreadsheet with the telling name "Commission Evgeniy Summary."
In it, with accounting precision, details of more than a dozen deals were laid out: equipment names, U.S. purchase prices, Russian sale prices, margins, shipping costs and — most interestingly — the exact distribution of profits among three participants: Evgeniy (Russian broker), Sanjay (Indian intermediary), and Markus (Austrian purchaser).
On September 11, 2023, Kaltenecker sent this spreadsheet via email to Kaushik with a laconic message: "Here, my friend." The total value of transactions in the spreadsheet exceeded $1.7 million. Net profit for participants: over $160,000.
Here's what one of the most expensive items looked like: an AFD-6520 adaptive flight display manufactured by Rockwell Collins — highly sophisticated avionics critical for operating a modern business jet. U.S. purchase price: $500,000. Sale price to Russian client: $560,000. Profit: $60,000. Of that, Evgeniy received $30,000, while Kaushik and Kaltenecker split the remaining $30,000 equally — $15,000 each.
For other equipment, the margin was higher. An ADC-3020 air data computer purchased for $98,000 sold for $121,500 — a 24 percent markup. A horizontal stabilizer control unit bought for $38,000 went to Russia for $58,500 — 54 percent margin.
The commission range was wide: from a modest 3 percent to an aggressive 27 percent. The harder the equipment was to obtain and the higher the risks — the greater the premium for circumventing sanctions.
"I Understand, This Is Risky"
Correspondence between participants shows they were well aware of the risks. From April through September 2023, Kaushik and Kaltenecker repeatedly discussed the scheme's legality.
In one conversation, Kaltenecker told Kaushik directly that working with him carried risks and that he could not ship goods directly to Russia due to export restrictions.
Kaushik tried to reassure the Austrian, falsely claiming that if goods went through a third country — Armenia or Turkey — it made export from the U.S. legal. "They're not going directly to Russia," he explained the logic.
This, of course, was untrue. U.S. law clearly prohibits export of controlled goods to Russia regardless of how many transit points are used. If it is known that the final destination is Russia, a license is required. And the license is not issued — policy of denial.
But Kaushik continued persuading Kaltenecker. And the scheme worked.
The April Screenshot
On April 26, 2023, Kaushik was on a video call with an unknown interlocutor. At some point, he took a screenshot of his phone screen. It showed two things: the face of an unidentified man in the video call window and an article open in the browser.
The article's headline: "U.S. Threatens Russian Neighbor." Subheading: "Senior U.S. Treasury official says Kazakhstan is facilitating sanctions evasion."
The article was published April 25, 2023 — one day before the screenshot — and discussed potential consequences for Kazakhstan for helping Russia circumvent Western sanctions.
Were they discussing this article? Was Kaushik worried about possible consequences? Or conversely, were they analyzing how Kazakhstan managed to continue trade despite the threats?
This screenshot was found by investigators in Kaushik's iCloud. It became one piece of evidence that scheme participants were not simply blindly breaking the law — they were closely monitoring sanctions policy developments and assessing risks.
And they continued working.
Scale of Operations
According to Indian customs data analyzed by U.S. investigators, from April 2023 through March 2024 — just one year — Kaushik's company Arezo Aviation Services made at least 37 shipments to Russia totaling over $6.5 million.
The vast majority of goods were of U.S. manufacture. Virtually all fell under U.S., EU, and UK sanctions as aviation equipment or dual-use items.
Among what was shipped: navigation panels, flight displays, measuring instruments, generators, weather radars, air data computers, engine fan blades, regulating valves, control units. All for Gulfstream, Bombardier, and Dassault business jets operated by Russian companies.
Two airlines figured as final recipients: PDS Avia and Severo-Zapad — both based in Moscow, both subsequently added to the U.S. Department of Commerce Entity List.
Arrest in Miami
On October 17, 2024, Sanjay Kaushik flew into Miami International Airport. He had a business visa, meetings, plans. Perhaps he thought enough time had passed. Perhaps he believed the trail had gone cold. Perhaps he simply did not imagine how thoroughly U.S. investigators had been gathering evidence.
When the plane landed and passengers began passing through passport control, a border officer detained Kaushik. Minutes later, agents from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) appeared. Kaushik was arrested based on a warrant issued by a federal court in Oregon.
He faced up to 20 years in federal prison for smuggling and violating the Export Control Reform Act.
But Kaushik quickly understood the situation. He struck a deal with prosecutors. He likely provided information about other scheme participants — about Kaltenecker, about Evgeniy, about routes, about methods.
The sentence announced in late 2024 was surprisingly lenient: just 30 months imprisonment. Two and a half years for multimillion-dollar smuggling of strategic equipment to a country waging war against a U.S. ally.
Kaltenecker remains free for now. Investigation of his role continues.
September Price List
On September 6, 2023, Austrian businessman Markus Kaltenecker sat in his office in the small town of Stotzing, 40 kilometers from Vienna, composing an email to himself. The text was addressed to someone named Evgeniy in Moscow. It concerned the most sophisticated orientation system for aircraft — the very avionics without which a modern airliner becomes an expensive piece of metal.
"Hi Evgeniy," Kaltenecker wrote. "Here is an updated offer for an AHRS processor in new condition. I can offer one unit for $152,000. Delivery to Moscow — another $4,200."
U.S. purchase price: $72,000. Markup: 117 percent.
That same day, Indian businessman Sanjay Kaushik from his basement office in a prestigious Delhi neighborhood was signing under oath a certification for a U.S. company in Oregon, declaring he would "not directly or indirectly export goods to Russia." It was an outright lie — the order from Moscow for this same device was already on his desk.
Two Schemes, One Address
Both stories, despite their independence, converge at several critical points.
Final clients: Severo-Zapad received parts through both Leonova's channel and Kaushik's channel. PDS Avia was the main client of the Indian route but, according to customs data, also received separate shipments through the Belarusian-American channel.
Transit hub: Both schemes used Armenia. Possibly even the same Armenian company, though this is not directly confirmed by documents. In December 2023, the U.S. Department of Commerce added to the Entity List several Armenian companies and Armenian citizens who, investigation established, were involved in transit of military and aviation equipment to Russia.
Methods: False end-use certificates, fraudulent cargo destination declarations, failure to provide mandatory EEI declarations, use of shell buyers, multilevel corporate structure.
Financial schemes: Money went from Russian banks (Alfa-Bank, Tinkoff) through Armenian accounts to U.S. banks. Sanctioned Russian banks could not transfer money directly to the U.S. — so Armenian intermediaries acted as financial buffers.
Risk awareness: Both networks knew they were doing something illegal. Correspondence is full of discussions about sanctions, risks, export restrictions. Kaushik read articles about U.S. threats to countries helping Russia evade sanctions. The American from New Jersey told Leonova directly that working with her was dangerous.
But profit outweighed fear. Until the moment it didn't.
After Arrest: Sanctions Consequences
In December 2023 — before Kaushik's arrest and filing of charges against Leonova — the U.S. Department of Commerce added to its Entity List several entities that figured in both investigations:
- Severo-Zapad airline (Russian Company-1)
- PDS Avia airline (PDS Avia LLC)
- Several Armenian companies used for transit
- Several Armenian citizens — operators of these companies
The Entity List is essentially a death sentence for international business. Any U.S. company or person is now required to obtain a special license to conduct any transactions with these entities. The license will almost certainly be denied — policy of presumption of denial.
This means complete isolation from U.S. technologies, equipment, parts, services. European and many Asian companies, especially large international corporations, also avoid deals with Entity List subjects, fearing U.S. secondary sanctions.
For Russian airlines, this means further supply complications. Old channels are blocked. They need to find new ones.
And apparently, they continue searching.
The Price and Unanswered Questions
Sanjay Kaushik paid with 30 months of his life and the end of his business. Arezo Aviation Services no longer exists as an operating company.
Markus Kaltenecker remains free for now, but his future is uncertain. The investigation continues. Yoracraft GmbH continues operating, but any business with the U.S. is now in question.
Yana Leonova is safe — geographically. But she cannot leave Russia and allied countries. The West is closed to her forever.
The American from New Jersey... His fate has not yet been publicly revealed. The case continues.
Evgeniy Bezverkhniy, the Russian broker whose name appears in commission spreadsheets, is in Russia — beyond reach.
Armenian intermediaries are on blacklists but continue living in Yerevan. Armenia will not extradite them to the U.S.
Russian airlines Severo-Zapad and PDS Avia continue flying. Their planes are in the air. That means they continue receiving parts — through some other channels, other intermediaries, other countries.
As long as Russian companies are willing to pay a premium, as long as there are countries that have not joined sanctions, as long as entrepreneurs can be found willing to risk for profit — sanctions evasion will continue.
Thirty months in prison for multimillion-dollar smuggling is not a deterrent punishment. It is a business risk. The cost of doing business.
And somewhere in Istanbul, Dubai, Almaty, Bishkek or Baku, other entrepreneurs are already devising new schemes, seeking new routes, creating new shell companies and preparing new false documents.
Two uncovered schemes are two victories for U.S. investigators. But behind each uncovered scheme stand dozens of others that continue operating.
The game continues. Stakes are rising. And the planes keep flying.
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