In the eyes of the law in Russia, there's no such thing as a bodyguard. Only law enforcement officers may use arms to defend a person's life. But property is a different matter, and Moscow is awash with personal guards who have the right to carry guns - but only to protect their clients' Armani suits and Rolex watches.

The private security business in Russia employs some 800,000 people, of which around 3,000 are bodyguards.

But real professionals are few.

"A lot of people call themselves bodyguards, but not many can really claim the title," said Vyacheslav Zanevsky, executive director of the National Bodyguard Association (NBA) and member of the International Bodyguard Association (IBA), which has only 20 full members in Russia. Every year, 600 to 700 new private security firms open in Moscow, and just as many close. Zanevsky agrees with Valentin Kosyakov from Alex Security, one of Russia's oldest private security businesses, that only four to five private security companies in Moscow work on a truly professional level.

The coming fall could well bring renewed demand for these so-called property-guarding personnel, who are licensed as security guards with the Interior Ministry, industry officials said.

"With elections coming up, we're not in for any calm," said Alex Security's Kosyakov. During their 11 years on the market, Kosyakov and his men have not had a single client killed. "We don't advertise. People come to us, for example, after they've survived one murder attempt and realize they need a professional service."

Average post-crisis salaries for bodyguards fluctuate between $400 to $2,500 a month. They earn more if they also have good driving skills, speak foreign languages or if there is a contract on the client, industry insiders said.

"It takes years to become a top-class bodyguard," Kosyakov pointed out. Training is ongoing, and bodyguards work first in other areas of the security business before moving on to guarding bodies rather than buildings. A good bodyguard has to have quick reactions, sharp analytical skills and a flair for psychology.

They must also be able to blend into a crowd. Kosyakov points to a photo on his office wall. "These are some of our men. As you can see, they're not exactly built like houses." The tall, lean (and unintimidating) Zanevsky says that the thug look is only good for scaring away the average citizen, not for striking fear into the hearts of professional hitmen.

News reports in Russia are rife with stories of successful contract killings. Security agencies put some of the blame on the victims. Some clients, they say, want to save money even at the expense of their own lives, and don't hire professionals. Others refuse to share crucial information with their protectors, making it nearly impossible for bodyguards to anticipate potential threats.

Kosyakov says that if a client refuses to listen to the bodyguards, his firm is obliged to end a contract, as there can be no guaranteeing security. "We warn the client, but if he won't listen, we take no further responsibility. Our firm's reputation is more valuable than the contract."

Clients' attitudes can be a real problem, bodyguards say. Some clients send their bodyguards on errands or make them carry suitcases when they should have their hands free. Zanevsky relates how one of his clients would go to a club, slip away to the kitchen and send the cook out to tell the bodyguards he'd gone. The bodyguards would then have to hunt for their client, who would be sitting in the kitchen.

For some so-called New Russians, having bodyguards is an attribute of status that goes along with owning a Mercedes with a flashing light on top and a fancy dacha outside Moscow. These types of clients tend to prefer to have brawny men without necks as bodyguards, or sometimes long-legged women with guns in their handbags.

The financial crisis has hit the bodyguard business along with practically all other areas of business in Russia. Zanevsky says that some guards are obliged to work as "status symbols" for the nouveaux riches, whether they like it or not. He cites capricious clients as being one of the most difficult aspects of his job.

Almost all bodyguards are men. Women are used sometimes in large-scale operations, where they usually fan out into a crowd while their male partners stick to their clients. Sometimes women clients request women bodyguards, but on the whole, most clients have more confidence in men, industry insiders said.

In the Soviet years, the KGB's ninth chief directorate was responsible for bodyguard services. Plenty of ex-KGB men have moved into the private sector and have a reputation for knowing the business well.

But Kosyakov has reservations about these security men. "They can organize security for a president, say, when you block off whole streets and have a motorcade shoot through," he said. "That's not necessarily true for a pop star going to a nightclub."

Kosyakov also reproaches ex-KGB personnel for being difficult to re-train and having too high an opinion of themselves. He prefers to take on applicants with military backgrounds. Those tend to be more flexible and less likely to have had contact with the criminal world than former policemen.

But contact with the criminal world seems inevitable in a country where the law remains a hazy concept. It happens that bodyguards learn of clients' illegal activities and find themselves in tough situations. According to the law, they should turn in their clients, but the present-day Russian ethic looks on such forms of denunciation as taboo. That, coupled with a need for money, means that in such cases, most bodyguards remain silent and keep working for their clients.

"Real criminal 'authorities' don't hire bodyguards like us," Zanevsky says. "They rely on bandits for their protection." He adds that bodyguards don't tend to go over to the other side. "You have to start from the bottom of the criminal hierarchy, you have to kill people. Essentially, they need marksmen, and that's a different mentality."

Zanevsky says that what he likes most about the job is the variety. "I couldn't do the same thing every day," he says, "I'm a former officer, and this job is a real man's job."

But he admits that most people are in it for the money above all else. An officer in the Federal Security Service's anti-terrorism department makes some $55 a month. A bodyguard, on the other hand, can make up to $2,500 a month despite Russia's economic difficulties.

But even that sum of money, impressive by Russian standards, is insignificant compared to the risks involved in the job. Zanevsky related the story of a bodyguard whose client was attacked by a man with a machete. The bodyguard's gun did not fire and he had to fight off the assailant with his bare hands. He was wounded in the process.

Whatever the risks, those who go into the business seem to stay in it. Kosyakov describes it as a real career choice, a job for life, with older bodyguards training newcomers.