The man was nervous. He was afraid, he said, of the secret police. So he advised me to hire a random taxi. I was to park at a certain church. And there, I was to wait. A few minutes later he called again, this time on a different cell phone. He gave me directions to a nondescript house with an iron gate.
"Sorry about these procedures," he apologized, tapping away at a laptop in a shuttered room. "But I could spend years in prison for what I do."
