My imagination runs wild as the mysterious woman in black approaches me on the fog-shrouded pier: Are there real stilettos in the toes of her high-heeled shoes? Is her wristwatch a transmitter, her broach a microphone?
"My name is Marina," she whispers. I am to follow her to Moscow for a briefing at the secret headquarters of Russia's infamous KGB -- the Soviet Committee of State Security.
I was about to learn that my imagination should have gone much further, because the agency's newly opened museum of spy technology holds gadgetry that is far beyond the fantasies of John Le Carré, James Bond or Austin Powers.
This mission to Moscow was a stark contrast to the pampering I received on the cruise ship Constellation that I had arrived on during a Baltic Sea voyage. As part of a new direction for Celebrity Cruises, the Xpedition series of cruises offer well-travelled passengers the opportunity to take unique adventures far from the ordinary -- and in this case, far from the sea.
Even getting to Moscow was an adventure in Cold War style. It became clear I wouldn't aspire to become a frequent flier on Pulkovo Airlines, whose vintage TU-154 jet I board with some trepidation. While it looked vaguely like a Boeing 727, the bulging rivets in the fuselage were none too reassuring, nor was what looked like duct tape covering the edge of the wings.
But at least the airline serves food, although the breakfast menu consisted of chocolate cookies and a choice of instant coffee, beer or vodka.
Arriving in Moscow, Marina takes me through Red Square to reach the Lubyanka complex, whose main yellow building is often shown on television as the symbol of all things sinister. Our destination is a grey stone building nearby, which until now was visited only by suspects and spies who knew too much.
I am only here, however, to visit its museum-like maze of bizarre spy technology.
Or at least that's what I think until I am greeted by a smile-less man in a grey tweed suit who views me with a piercing gaze before opening the doors to the vaults that store the remnants of one of history's most shadowy spy forces.
My guide is Colonel Dmitry Ivanov, a veteran KGB agent who now curates the museum. Its displays prove beyond doubt that shoe phones, exploding beards and poison pens were no myths. Nor were thumb screws for torture and blunt objects for persuasion.
Many of the displays dispel the myth of the superiority of Soviet technology. A lot of what was considered state-of-the-art in the Cold War is so laughably low-tech by today's standards that even Agent 86, the bumbling spy played by Don Adams in the 1970s TV series Get Smart, wouldn't be fooled. Would you believe they tried the old sword in a cane trick? And agents really hid in hollow logs.
But there are some impressively inventive gadgets too. There is a backpack that converted into a helicopter that worked, although it was probably guaranteed to give the user whiplash. And there are LP records that when run backward played a message.
Miniaturization was also a specialty, and there are microphones that fit into cigarette packs, and teensy cameras that used film so small it could be hidden in the bridge of a pair of eyeglasses.
The KGB had many female agents, although none of their portraits hang among the pictures of generations of dour leaders who give new definition to the phrase "poker face."
But Col. Ivanov keeps reminding me it wasn't easy leading the life of an international man or woman of mystery. On top of trying to steal secret plans, he notes, cyanide pills were standard issue and those who were discovered were expected to take them rather than give up their secrets.
Despite the many risks, there were also perks, such as wads of cash sewn into coat lapels or hidden in book bindings. And there was the ability to travel outside mother Russia, where agents could buy luxury goods that were not available in the perpetual rationing under communism.
The KGB's glory days -- if they can be called that -- really ended in 1962, when U.S. spy plane pilot Francis Gary Powers was the last prisoner interrogated at the headquarters. He was exchanged to U.S. authorities for captured spy Col. Vilyam Fisher (a.k.a. Rudolf Abel).
Col. Ivanov expresses pride at a museum display of the gear Powers had with him when his U-2 plane was shot down in 1960, including an automatic pistol, a short-wave radio and a CIA-issued "suicide pin" inside a hollowed out silver dollar that Powers was later criticized for not using to avoid capture.
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the KGB no longer exists, but it soldiers on in shrunken form as the Russian Federal Security Service. Today, many former Cold War secret agents are living on a state pension the equivalent of about $150 a month. And they remain sworn to secrecy.
So for now, the only way to understand what really went on behind the scenes is to consult the ghosts in the KGB's fascinating spy museum.
The museum has no sign or firm hours of operation, but visits can be arranged through a travel or tour operator with expertise in Russian itineraries.