Diplomatic coup

For joint-venture contractor Taylor Woodrow, managing the construction of the £80m Moscow embassy has been a curious British-Russian hybrid. Freezing winter temperatures and the idiosyncrasies of Russian construction confirm that it is working on very foreign soil. But as the site is also on British diplomatic territory, it is a safe haven from Russia's import duty and aspects of its bureaucracy, where British standards and checking procedures apply.

Even if it is enjoying some home comforts, Taywood is finding that an embassy contract brings its own set of problems. Her Majesty's government has proved to be as exacting a client overseas as it is at home, while Her Majesty's Secret Service has imposed the strictest security conditions on the construction process. In parts of the building, these dictate using only security-vetted British labour, and materials that have been thoroughly screened in the UK and shipped to Moscow as sealed cargo.

The justification for the extreme caution stands just a few streets away. In 1985, US diplomatic staff found that their brand new embassy built by Russian contractors was riddled with listening equipment. A new extension is currently being built with labour brought all the way from the USA. "Even today, buildings have to be designed for everything," comments Nick Wainwright of London Group, which is the Foreign and Commonwealth Office's project manager on the embassy.

The 21 000 m2 complex replaces the current British embassy, a 170-year-old mansion that is impeccably located across the river from the Kremlin but impossibly cramped for 100 staff and the growing visa and commercial departments. Only the ambassador's residence will remain at the gracious old embassy to continue the tradition – which, legend has it, was abhorred by Stalin – of Britain's physical presence at the heart of Russia's capital.

Architect Ahrends Burton & Koralek's competition-winning design is in its own way a physical rebuke to the city Stalin modelled. In the midst of Moscow's heavy-shouldered blocks – and the recent neo-classical additions that Muscovites charitably view as "contextual" – ABK's scheme is refreshingly contemporary in both style and materials.

It consists of six separate buildings, responding to a brief that called for a mix of offices, staff apartments and amenities on a tight site. There are 31 flats in three riverfront blocks, flanking an office building that extends to the rear. The political department is the front half, while the visa, press and commercial sections lie behind. A swimming pool, squash court, library and bar are housed in a separate building.

Taywood and its joint-venture partner Skanska OY – the Finnish subsidiary of the Swedish contractor – have been on site with the new embassy since early 1997. Their tender on the £60m fixed-price contract was selected by the FCO's Overseas Estates Department because it offered the combination of a British name and approach and Finnish experience of coping with Moscow's sub-zero conditions. The Overseas Estates Department also appointed London Group to help liaise between Taywood/Skanska and the principal consultants.

Security featured in the selection process as much as it would the actual construction, with Taywood facing detailed questioning on how it would guarantee site security. "The security people aren't used to contractors, and we're not used to security being involved," says Taywood site manager Mike Middleditch. "We came from totally different viewpoints, but somehow we had to meet each other."

The entire construction process has been dictated by the need to isolate the sensitive political department from the rest of the project. The 50:50 joint venture has split the work accordingly: Taywood is construction manager on the secure wing, while Skanska acts as project manager. The two firms' roles are reversed on the rest of the project.

Work on the political department had to be carried out exclusively by security-vetted UK trade contractors and labourers, while the rest of the project has been built by a mixture of UK, Finnish or Estonian firms using their own and local Russian labour. But for Taywood, trying to split packages efficiently has been a headache. "It's difficult to split a package and keep it cost-effective. We tried to use one company with non-secure labour on the ordinary areas and vetted labour on the secure areas," says Middleditch.

Every individual and component entering the political department had to be logged, and the construction work checked off at each stage. "You could say the security inspections had a slowing effect on production," says Middleditch ruefully. "It's the sort of thing that's difficult to put a price on at the beginning."

Similar concerns also complicated procurement and delivery of materials destined for the political department. Every component had to be thoroughly checked in the UK and on site. "If something was short-shipped, there was a very slow reaction time. Everything had to be secure. We couldn't even buy a box of nails."

Security issues also affected the consultants. Engineer Ove Arup & Partners and QS Hanscomb, which both have sizeable offices in Moscow, conducted most of the work on the embassy from London to minimise the amount of information circulating in Moscow.

However, more colourful security concerns have stayed in the realms of fiction. One UK newspaper speculated that Taywood staff and British site workers should be on their guard against "honeytraps" – Russian women seducing them into giving away site secrets. It is with a slight sigh of regret that Taywood's Middleditch reports that, so far, no honeytraps have been sighted.

But that's not to say that the embassy site is an all-male environment. The British firms have been surprised by the number of women plasterers, painters and electricians employed by Russian subcontractors. "They flock in with skirts and heels, looking like they're going to work in an office, then change into overalls and hats," says Middleditch with politically incorrect bemusement.

And the quality of Russian work is good. "The workers are loyal to us – working here, at least they know they'll get paid," says Skanska construction manager Jaakka Korhonen, referring to the all-too-common practice in Moscow of withholding wages. Comparing quality standards in the British-built political department with the rest of the project, London Group's Nick Wainwright says there is little to choose between them, and "a lot of people have been surprised by the quality of the [Russian] finishings".

Moscow's winter conditions were perhaps the most severe test for the Taywood team. In a country where halting construction because of bad weather limits work to a five-month summer window, foundations have to be dug, concrete poured and steel fixed when the thermometer is touching –25°C. Pouring the concrete slabs involved heating the ground below, constructing a tent warmed with hot air above, and having supervisors and labour on site all night to guard against cracking.

Site style when the temperature is below –20°C consists of fur liners worn underneath hard hats, insulated jackets provided by Skanska, quilted overtrousers, thermal long johns and fur-lined boots. And when the temperature really dropped, quips Middleditch, the site team added another layer beneath their ensembles, emulating the cast of the Robin Hood spoof, Men in Tights.

The Taywood/Skanska joint-venture is now anxious to finish the project before winter comes around again, and the FCO is planning to move in in the new year. The completed building looks set to put British achievements in construction and architecture firmly on the Moscow map. Taywood, too, will regard it as a high point in its corporate portfolio. But given the complications of building such a sensitive project in an unfamiliar city, the Taywood team may need some time before they can relax and enjoy their achievement.