We were kept incommunicado in a bunk car. Vlad remained cheerful, though. "This is nothing," he said, drawing on his old jailbird’s lore. "When they really mean business, they take your shoelaces. These KGB are just protective custody. After all, you and I have the greatest secret in cosmic history!" And we were treated well—we had red caviar, Crimean champagne, Kamchatkan king crab, blinis with sour cream.