...and near Lawrence Livermore, in a defense contractor's facility that, I swear, was surrounded by a six-foot earthen berm to protect the surrounding subdivisions from our explosives bunkers.

I understand the absurdity of being approached by somebody brazenly identifying as a Soviet agent, offering me something of value, with no mention of the cost...at first. Well duh yeah you call the FBI, when the Soviets approach you. (Or, as anybody with half a brain in the industry expected, an FBI agent masquerading as a Soviet.)

Or at least, you did, when there were Soviets. I've experienced the interesting evolution over the ensuing years, of Russians and Chinese mutating from nuclear-armed devils out to kill me, into co-workers and technical collaborators mediated by the internet. More than once I've marveled that the FBI was not knocking at my door.

Now, The Moron Donny Junior, is, I believe, 39 years old. The Soviet Union crumbled right around the time a servant was popping his first pimple. In the ensuing years, he's done business with Russians...so maybe contact from a Russian wouldn't ring the same alarm bells it would with us older dudes?