At dusk one day last February, a middleaged, professorial sort of man opened the door of his neat, middle-class Frankfurt apartment to a stranger. "Are you Herr Okolovich?" asked the caller, in perfectly accented German. "I am." "Then I must talk to you privately. It is most important." Herr Okolovich ushered the stranger in and offered him a cup of tea. It was brusquely declined. A moment later, switching from German to Russian, the stranger told Herr Okolovich his na.me and business: "I am Captain Khokhlov of the MVD, and I have been ordered...
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