The Spy Who - The Spies Who Invaded Suburbia | Coming To America | 1

Episode Date: February 25, 2025

It's 1999 and a mole reveals that deep-cover Russian spies are lurking in American suburbia. The FBI finds itself walking a tightrope to keep these spooks in check without exposing its man in Moscow. But the longer the Bureau watches, the more dangerous and numerous the fake Americans become, with one Anna Chapman making moves to get to the West.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge full seasons of The Spy Who early and ad-free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. July 2010, Moscow, Russia. 16-year-old Alex Foley stares out of the plane window as it taxis towards the gate and takes in his first sight of Russia. Welcome to Moscow. The local time is 4.15 p.m.

A few weeks ago, Alex was looking forward to this moment. This was supposed to be a family holiday to a country he had never visited before. But then the FBI arrived at his family home in Massachusetts and arrested his parents for spying. The FBI insists his mom and dad are Russians who are posing as Canadians. Alex thinks that's ridiculous, some kind of mix-up, a case of mistaken identity. His parents are Canadian. He's Canadian. The plane stops at the gate. Around him, passengers start retrieving their luggage.

Alex glances hesitantly at his older brother, Tim. Where Alex is tall and dark, like their father, Donald Heathfield, Tim is short and blond, like their father Donald Heathfield, Tim is short and blonde like their mother Tracy Foley. He also looks younger than his 20 years. Tim? Yeah? What's the plan? I don't know. Let's just get off the plane. Alex stands and pulls a jacket on over his ice hockey sweatshirt. The boys were born in Canada but now live in the USA. At least they did, until their parents' arrest turned their lives upside down. Now their parents are in prison awaiting trial.

The family bank accounts have frozen, journalists camp outside their home, and the brothers have had to borrow money from friends just to buy food. They've seen their mother just once since her arrest. She gave no explanations but told them to use the plane tickets the family had already bought to fly to Russia to escape the media circus. So here they are, in a foreign land, with no idea of what to do next. The brothers step off the plane and are startled to see a group of Russians in suits waiting for them. One steps forward and shows them an identity card. The boys stare at it blankly.

It's written in Russian, and they know no Russian. Tim, Alex, we are colleagues of your parents. You need to trust us. Please, follow us. Alex looks at Tim for guidance. His brother pauses, uncertain for a moment, then shrugs and follows the man. The boys are ushered through a service door into a car park where a sleek van with darkened windows is waiting.

Tim looks warily at the van. Where are you taking us? To where you are staying. Someone will collect your luggage. Please, get in. Alex looks around wildly, wondering if they could make a run for it. Tim reads his mind. Don't be stupid, Alex. Where else are we gonna go? Inside the van, the Russian man smiles. Don't be afraid. We will take good care of you. You are home and your parents are heroes of Russia. Alex feels a spurt of anger.

What are you talking about? They've never ever been to Russia. And this is not my freaking home. I'm Canadian. The man takes some photos from his jacket pocket and hands them to Tim and Alex. Your father's real name is Andrei Bezrukov. Your mother is Elena Vavilova. They are officers in Russia's foreign intelligence service.

They have worked undercover for the whole of your lives. Alex stares at the photos. He sees his parents, but younger, wearing Soviet uniforms decorated with medals. He feels sick. No, these are fakes. We're Canadian. We've always been Canadian. Tim, tell them. Alex looks pleadingly at his brother, but Tim just shakes his head. Alex feels his world dissolving around him. This isn't some crazy mistake by the FBI. This is real. His parents are Russian spies.

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ECA terms and conditions apply hiring indeed is all you need. From wonder E I'm in Dravma and this is The Spy Who. In this season, we tell the real story that inspired the hit TV series The Americans. Operation Ghost Stories. The FBI mission to bring Anna Chapman and the nine other deep cover Russian spies to justice. These Russian spooks spent years posing as ordinary US citizens so they could gather intelligence

and make contacts of value to Moscow. For most of them, their mission was to be a one-way trip with no plan for a return home to resume their old lives. Some even had children who would find themselves unwitting participants in their parents' cover story. And by 2010, these fake Americans were closing in on their ultimate goal, getting the inside track on President Barack Obama's administration. You're listening to the spies who invaded suburbia.

This is episode one, Coming to America. August 1999, Cambridge, Massachusetts. In a New England style house, Tracy Foley and her husband, Donald Heathfield, are surrounded by piles of boxes. The removal men have just left, and the couple are unpacking the essentials. They've just moved to the US from Canada. Foley, with her blonde bob and wide smile, seems like a typical Canadian soccer mom. Heathfield used to be a salesman,

but has worked hard to secure a place on a one-year public administration course at Harvard University. Foley unwraps a statuette of a golfing figure. Did we really need to bring this? Of course! No throwing it! Foley rolls her eyes and they smile at each other. They seem like just another suburban couple.

But this life is a lie. But this life is a lie. They actually fell in love in the 1980s while students at Tomsk State University in Siberia. Soon after, the KGB recruited them because of their patriotism, playing on the couple's childhood fears of Russia being invaded by the West. They got married and then underwent years of training as deep cover agents, learning how to live, act, and talk like ordinary North Americans. Then, 12 years ago, they adopted their current identities and moved to Canada separately. Once in Canada, they pretended to meet for the first time at a tourist spot, then acted out a carefully scripted love story.

That script led them to marrying again, living and working in Canada, and starting a family, all of which strengthened their cover. Now, after years of preparation, they've come to America to start their mission in earnest. Their two children charge down the stairs. Nine-year-old Tim is being chased by five-year-old Alex and crashes into one of the boxes in the hallway.

Ow! Foley puts down the golfing figurine. Hey, calm down, you two. Tim, you OK? He chased me. Mommy, who's this? Foley whirls around and feels a cold wave of adrenaline. Alex has dived into an open box and now has an old photo in his hands.

A photo of Foley in the snows of Siberia. The photo she should have left behind in Russia. She quickly kneels next to her youngest son smiling. That's me on holiday in the north of Canada. Look at all of that snow. Where's daddy? I didn't know daddy then. Alex looks confused by the idea.

She smiles at him, kisses his head, and smoothly removes the photos from his grasp. Now, I thought I told you boys to unpack your toys in your room. Okay, mommy. The boys rush back up the stairs. Foley stares at the photo of her in your room. OK, mommy. The boys rush back up the stairs. Foley stares at the photo of her in Siberia. An unexpected swell of homesickness takes her breath away.

Her husband's reassuring hand is soon on her shoulder. I'm OK. We should keep these someplace safer, yeah? Foley nods silently and lets him take the photo. She forces back her tears as she continues to unpack. You need a strong core for this work. She cannot afford such weakness. A few days later, Yatsenevo, the outskirts of Moscow.

At the headquarters of Russia's Foreign Intelligence Service, the SVR, Alexander Potiev is ushered into one of the most secretive rooms in the building. Inside are row upon row of shelves laden with files. Potiev is in his mid-forties and dressed in an American maid suit. He's just returned to Moscow from New York, where he worked under diplomatic cover while carrying out intelligence work. His companion is the head of directorate S,

the department that oversees the illegals program, Russia's global network of deep cover spies. He guides Potiev to a corner of the room. This is now your area, the Americas. Each file is roughly one year for one agent. Codes, messages, reports, as well as their cover, legends and intelligence product. You must study them all.

Potiev has just been promoted to a senior role in Directorate S. It's a prestigious position. Even within the SVR, few are allowed to know about the directorate's activities. The director pulls out a box file labeled Bezrukov. Underneath it is the name Donald Heathfield. He hands it to Potiev. He is one of our best. He and his wife just moved to the United States.

He is currently studying at Harvard, befriending his fellow students. It is important he meets people early on in their careers. That way they will trust him later in life when they reach positions of power and importance. Potiev casts his eyes over the photos of Donald Heathfield, including a photo of him with his two young sons. Do I ever meet them? Yes. They sometimes travel to Europe as part of their cover. Family holidays, for example. You will meet them to assess if they have been corrupted. That is always a risk when one spends so long away from the motherland. I see. It also falls to you to investigate and approve any contact they

intend to cultivate. They work alone out there. It is our duty to protect them from those who may target them. This is why only three people are ever allowed to know the identities of any illegal. And now, you are one of them." Kotyev nods, I have noticed increased surveillance on me. FSB, I think. His boss nods sourly. The FSB is Russia's internal security agency. After the Soviet Union collapsed,

the KGB was reformed into two agencies, the SVR and FSB. Since the breakup, Potiev has worked for the SVR and FSB. Since the breakup, Potiev has worked for the SVR. It handles foreign intelligence, similar to the CIA in America and MI6 in Britain. But in Vladimir Putin's Russia, the FSB has unrivaled power. Its remit is domestic security, just like MI5 and the FBI. But the line between the FSB and SVR is blurry,

fueling distrust and rivalries between the two spy agencies. They would give their own grandmothers a way to get at these files, but not even they are clear to know who the illegals are. Don't trust them. Potiev puts Heathfield's file back on the shelf. His eyes range along the assumed names that he will soon know as well as his own children. Donald Heathfield, Tracy Foley, Richard Murphy, Cindy Murphy, and Michael Zottoli.

Potiev clicks his heels together and salutes their files. These people are national heroes. I pledge to protect them at all costs. His boss gives an approving smile. A few months later, Santiago, Chile. Potiev, dressed in casual clothes, strolls through a down-at-heel area of the city and then heads into an indoor market.

He sits down quickly at one of the food stalls and watches the milling crowd for a few minutes. Then he gets up and moves through the market before exiting out the other side. He walks towards a wealthier area, watching reflections in shop windows as he goes. He has spent three hours making sure he's not being followed. Officially, he's in Santiago to meet the local SVR officers. But now he's heading to an important and clandestine meeting, and he needs to be free from all watching eyes, both foreign and Russian. Satisfied he is not under surveillance, he walks purposefully into a large

expensive hotel. A few moments later, Potiev reaches his destination. A hotel room a few floors up. The door opens to let him in. Inside, Potiev recognizes one of the men, but there's also a stranger in the room. Potiev's contact quickly reassures him. Don't worry. This is James from the CIA.

Our meetings outside of the US need CIA support, but I'm still your main contact. Potiev isn't using his trip to Santiago to just meet fellow SVR officers. He's also using it to connect with his FBI handler. Potiev's FBI contact gestures for him to sit. So how's Moscow? It's fine. I have been promoted. The FBI man looks delighted. The FBI recruited Potiev when he was living in New York as part

of the Russian mission to the United Nations. Now, Potiev is a spy for the FBI, working as an agent in place, inside Russian intelligence, while feeding information back to America. Potiev takes a sheet of paper from the notepad on the hotel room desk and starts writing down the names and addresses he's memorized. These are illegals living and working in the United States. The FBI and CIA men's jaws drop. In the world of espionage, the Russian illegals are legendary, deep-cover spies that are notoriously

hard to find and catch. The FBI handler leans forward. A spy ring? No. Illegals operate on their own or in married couples. They don't know each other. They report directly to the center in Moscow, to me. Illegals don't chase specific pieces of information and they never recruit.

They are the advance scouts. Their only job is to make contacts among those in power. They pass on information and identify potential recruitment targets. Then, the center decides what to do with that information. And if there's a potential recruit, the center gets someone else to make the approach. It takes years and millions of dollars to train and support an illegal.

They are too valuable to put at risk in that way. The FBI agent checks the name at the top of Potiev's list, Donald Heathfield. How long has he been in the US? in that way. The FBI agent checks the name at the top of Potiev's list. Donald Heathfield. How long has he been in the US? He and his wife have just moved there, but they spent 10 years in Canada building their cover first.

Some have been in place since the 1980s. They've been living undercover for 20 years. Russians don't think one or two years ahead. We think in generations. The CIA officer looks skeptical. That's a lot of time and money invested in these people. Is it actually worth it? Potiev looks mournful.

Do you know of Kim Philby? Sure. The English MI6 officer who spied for the Soviets. Well, he was identified as a recruitment target by an illegal while he was a student at Cambridge University. He was worth it. The CIA officer opens his mouth to argue, but Potiev's FBI handler cuts him off. This list is the jackpot. Thank you, Alexander. Potiev leans forward abruptly.

You cannot arrest these people. I am one of only three people who knows their identities. If they are all arrested, then you may as well put a bullet in my head now. You need to build the case yourselves. Anything that suggests you got information from anyone inside Russia will put me under suspicion. His smile fading, the FBI agent nods soberly. I get it.

We won't endanger you, I promise. And the CIA are working on a plan to get you out of Russia if it gets too hot. Buttieff looks at them both dubiously. But he knows he has no choice. He has handed over the information. Now he must trust these Americans with his life. May 2000, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts. It is the graduation ceremony for Donald Heathfield and his class at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government. Dressed in a ceremonial cap and gown,

he waits at the edge of the stage to be called up to accept his master's in public administration. Felipe Calderon. In the crowd, an undercover FBI agent in the audience readies his camera. Donald Heathfield. As Heathfield goes on stage, the FBI agent in the audience begins taking photos, pretending

to be an excited family member. He takes another photo as Heathfield steps off stage and hugs his delighted wife, Tracy Foley. The FBI has been following these suspected Russian spies for weeks. But so far, they just seem to be a normal immigrant family chasing the American dream. Eight months later, Boston, Massachusetts. It's late at night and the downtown streets are quiet. But in one bank, two people are hard at work in the vault.

They are FBI agents, and they've got a warrant to search Heathfield's security deposit box. But they need to make sure Heathfield doesn't know about this search, so they're taking precautions. They maneuver a portable X-ray machine above the deposit box. They maneuver a portable X-ray machine above the deposit box. They examine the X-ray images, hunting for signs of traps that Heathfield may have laid in the box to detect if it's been searched. Looks clear. Next, the FBI agents slowly and carefully open the lid. One sticks their face close to the box.

He watches for any tiny hairs that might have been placed by Heathfield in a certain way so that he will know if the box has been tampered with. But he sees none. Box now opened, the agents photograph the contents from every angle so they can put them back exactly how they found them when they have finished.

Photos taken. One of the agents snaps on latex gloves and carefully begins to remove items from the box. Heathfield's Canadian birth certificate. Then, an envelope containing a photo of a young blonde woman in the snow. Is that his wife, Foley? Looks like her, but younger. Maybe in her 20s. The agent turns the photo over looking for clues.

In one corner is a faded stamp. What's that say? Tasma. What's Tasma? A Soviet photography company. The FBI agents grin. They've just found their first piece of evidence linking Foley and Heathfield to Russia.

January 2002. On a British Airways flight from London to Moscow, Alex Chapman stands fully dressed in the tiny toilet cubicle, waiting for a knock. He smiles and carefully opens the cubicle's folding door. Standing there is his 19-year-old Russian girlfriend Anna Kuschenko. The sight of her still takes his breath away. Her long, auburn hair, her heart-shaped face, and the slim but voluptuous body in its denim dress. You called for assistance, sir? Get in here, you. He pulls her into him and slides the lock back.

Before he has even finished, she has unzipped his jeans and is pushing him back onto the toilet. Ready to join the Mile High Club, Alex? In reply, he kisses her and slides her dress up. Alex is 21 and works in a recording studio in London. Although he went to an expensive boarding school in the Shires of England, he now lives in a tiny flat in a recording studio in London. Although he went to an expensive boarding school in the Shires of England, he now lives in a tiny flat in a rough part of London. He has never met anyone like Anna before. She's clever and exotic,

not to mention that body and her love of sex. They met just three months ago at a rave in London. But he's fallen for her so hard, he now spends all his holidays flying back and forth to Moscow with her. Excuse me, are you all right in there? Shit. Can you answer me, please?

Can you give us a minute? My girlfriend is sick, vomiting. I'm just helping her. Anna makes helpful vomiting noises while she and Alex laugh silently together and pull their clothes back on. Could you come out as soon as possible, please? Now dressed, Anna runs her hands

through Alex's tousled, mod-style hair and kisses him passionately. As they break apart, he looks down at her tenderly. I loved you the first moment I met you. It's the same for me too, but we better get out of here. As they head back to their seats in the plane, hand in hand and laughing, Alex wonders if he's crazy because he's seriously contemplating

asking her to become Mrs. Anna Chapman. Two months later, Queens, New York. In a busy restaurant in Sunnyside, Richard Murphy sits down at a table set for three people. He removes his houndstooth flat cap and checks his watch. He's a big, dark-haired man with a habitual frown. His New Jersey neighbors know him as a quiet guy with an interest in wildflower photography. In reality, he's a deep-cover Russian spy.

The waitress approaches. Want another coffee? Yes, please. Actually, make it two. He's a deep-cover Russian spy. The waitress approaches. Want another coffee? Yes, please. Actually, make it two. I'm waiting for someone. As the waitress moves off, the restaurant door opens and Murphy spots his contact.

A lean man in his 50s with intelligent gray eyes and a suede leather jacket. He moves unhurriedly to Murphy's table and plonks a black canvas bag on the empty chair. Murphy's lunch date is Christopher Metzos. He's also a deep cover Russian spy, but he's what the SVR calls a traveling illegal. Metzos' job is to travel the world

visiting Russia's deep cover spies. He brings them cash for operational expenses, delivers sensitive instructions, and offers advice. Hi, Richard, how are you? Fine, I suppose. What's the problem? Well, since you ask, my work at G7 is not what I had expected.

They just don't understand my skill set. Murphy launches into a series of complaints. He's a computer technician as an international finance consultancy, but it's not going well. His wife Cindy, who's also a deep cover spy, is on his back constantly. She's fed up with living in a cramped apartment

in New Jersey with their two young daughters, but he can't afford somewhere bigger. And, like all of the Russian illegals, it's down to them to earn the money they need to live. Murphy stares into his coffee. It's difficult. People don't seem to warm to me. It's hard to make new contacts. On the face of it, Murphy is talking through the troubles of a man in his 30s in New York. But in reality, he is an isolated Russian spy unburdening himself to the only person he can. Well, Richard, you know it takes time. You must be persistent. Try to smile more.

Americans expect people to smile. I think I should change careers. To what? A thinking job. Public policy. International affairs. Something like that. What does the Center say? I haven't asked them yet.

The course is expensive and money's tight. So I'm still thinking it over. So you're thinking about a thinking job? Glad I'm not your handler. Well, maybe this will help. Until next time, Richard. Metzos pats the black bag he placed on the spare chair, then leaves. Murphy finishes his coffee, picks up the black bag,

and moves to the counter to pay the bill. He knows there is a lot of cash inside the bag Metzos left him. But it still won't be enough. It's never enough. Later that month, the FBI field office New York. In a briefing room, rookie FBI agent Maria Richie looks at a huge cork board covered with a map of the United States. Dotted around the map are photos of the three spy couples the FBI is watching, one in New Jersey,

one in New York State, and one in Cambridge, Massachusetts, all of whom are under surveillance by the FBI's Operation Ghost Stories team. But in the middle of the map are surveillance photos of Christopher Metzos with a question mark above them. Ritchie peers at Metzos' photo. Who's this one? Her boss replies. Christopher Metzos. The photos are from his recent meeting with Richard Murphy. He's the center of the wheel, the connection with Moscow.

We believe he's the only one who has direct in-person contact with all of them. As far as we can tell, the individual families know nothing about each other. Richie sips her coffee and again feels the secret thrill of being in this room. She used to be a lawyer. On a whim, she applied to join the FBI's legal team, but was instead offered the chance to become a federal agent. Now she's got her dream gig. A counter-espionage case against deep-cover Russian spies.

Where's he live? Unknown. He uses a Canadian passport, but we suspect he has multiple identities. So we need more on him, yeah? He's the one who connects all the couples. We link each couple to him, then we can show a jury that they're all part of this. Her boss smiles, impressed at how quick she's getting up to speed. Exactly. Also, if Metzos is bringing the money, we need to find out where he's getting that money from.

When do we think he'll visit next? Her boss shrugs. Could be six months, could be two years. But whenever it is, we need eyes on him every second he's in this country. So I want a plan ready to roll the moment we get word he's back. ready to roll the moment we get word he's back.

Summer 2002. Wanjee National Park, Zimbabwe. Alex Chapman unzips the front of the luxury safari tent he and his wife Anna are sharing. It's early morning, and he and Anna are on an African safari for their delayed honeymoon. They got married two months ago, following their whirlwind romance. Now they are husband and wife, and Anna will soon have a British passport, one in her new name, Anna Chapman. As they exit the tent, he can't resist sliding his hand around her waist and kissing her

neck. But Alex pulls his hand back quickly when he spots Anna's father outside tending to the fire. His name is Vasily Kuschenko, and he puts Alex on edge. Despite paying for their long and very expensive honeymoon, it is clear Kuschenko does not approve of Alex. There have been several pointed questions about Alex's income and how he intends to support his new wife, but Anna is devoted to him. Morning, Papa.

We're going to look for animals at the waterhole. Kushenko doesn't even look up as he speaks. No, Alex will help me with the fire and then join you at the waterhole. Alex is irritated by the domineering tone, but Anna grins and takes the binoculars. Okay, see you soon. Alex reluctantly moves to the fire.

Kuschenko is a diplomat in the Russian embassy in Zimbabwe, but despite spending the past week with him, Alex still finds his father-in-law terrifying. He sees Kuschenko has created a tiny flame with some twigs. Alex decides to help and tries to place a large log on top of it. Kushenko knocks it firmly out of the way. Do you know nothing about starting fires? Er, sorry, no.

My parents weren't fans of camping. Heh, it should be essential learning for every person. What if you get lost in the bush? Alex resists the urge to quit that the only bush in London is Shepherd's Bush, and it's unlikely he'll need to start a fire there. There's something about his new father-in-law that feels menacing.

He travels the streets of Harare in a blacked-out 4x4 with two security vehicles at all times. He seems to know a lot about guns, and when he speaks it's more like an army sergeant than a diplomat. Khrushchenko glares at Alex. You are useless here. Go join Anna. Alex leaves gratefully and finds Anna in a viewing hideout near the water hole where some elephants are drinking. She smiles at him. Hi, are you and Papa getting on better? I think he'd quite like to leave my dead body somewhere it won't be found.

He's not KGB, is he? Alex is startled by the strange alert expression that wipes Anna's smile away. It disappears quickly and she laughs. Don't be silly, Alex. He's just a diplomat. Now look at that sweet baby elephant. Don't you just want to take him home with us? Almost two years later, May 2004, New York State. In a car rental company near an airport, an FBI agent joins the line. But he's not here to get a car, but to keep eyes on Metzos.

Metzos just flew into the country and is now at one of the desks collecting the hire car he booked. The FBI agent listens in as the desk clerk checks her computer. Sorry Mr. Metzos, we don't have the particular model you booked. Real sorry about that. So instead I'll upgrade you to something better. The FBI agent studies Metzos's face. He's relieved to see no hint of suspicion. The Russian spy takes the keys and follows the employee out into the parking lot to get his car. The car into which the FBI has already planted a GPS tracker.

The next afternoon, Forest Hills train station queens. In a van parked nearby, two FBI agents watch screens showing live footage from the hidden cameras they've planted in the station. The FBI's learn that Metzos is due to meet a Russian diplomat here today, and they want to capture the moment. The two agents in the van tense as the diplomat appears on one of the screens. He's wearing a baseball cap that he's put on backwards and carrying an orange-colored shopping bag. He loiteres on the platform at the top of the stairs leading out of the station.

But there's no sign of Metsos. The minutes stretch by unbearably. Then the thinning hair of Metsos appears in shot. He too is carrying an orange-colored shopping bag. The two Russians walk towards each other, one down the stairs and the other up. As they pass, Metsos smoothly grips the shopping bag in the diplomat's hand just as the diplomat reaches across to grab Metsos' identical bag. Bag swapped, the two men continue walking in opposite directions and out of shot.

The agents in the van breathed with relief. The camera was in the right position. The Russian spy's brush pass is all on tape. That evening, sunny-side Queens, New York. Maria Ricci is sitting in a restaurant opposite a male FBI agent. They're playing the part of an unhappy couple, using long, sulky silences to cover the fact that they're listening to the conversation between Richard Murphy and Christopher Metzos, who are sitting just a few tables away.

Not that Ricci and her colleague need to overhear every word. Although Metzos and Murphy meet rarely, this is the same restaurant they always meet in. They've even got a favorite table, one that's now wired up with listening devices. Metsos leans towards Murphy. Richard, we need to see higher quality product from you. Murphy's shoulders sag. I'm trying. So you always say. It's not that easy to get a job in public policy. Hmm.

Maybe this career change is not right for you. Maybe you would have been better sticking to work with computers. Look, I'm working on it, but it's going to take time, OK? Metzos reaches for one of the two shopping bags he arrived with and pushes the other towards Murphy with his foot. Next time I visit, you need to have delivered more value.

Metzos says his goodbyes. As he leaves, Richie glances at Murphy. He's hunched over and fiddling with the salt shaker. For a moment, this dangerous Russian spy suddenly seems very human. Two days later, Wurzburg, upstate New York. At a rest stop off the highway, two FBI agents in casual clothes get out of their car. They are 80 miles north of New York City and retracing Metsos' steps. They know from the GPS tracker in Metsos' hire car that he stopped here for some time

the previous day. So they've come here to find out why. You go that way, I'll check this way. They begin to search the surrounding vegetation and woods. Eventually, beneath a utility pole, one of the agents spots a brown beer bottle buried upside down in the earth. Got something? The other agent hurries over and looks at the bottle.

That's got to be a dead drop. The agent photographs the bottle, then starts to dig. They suspect the bottle is the marker for where Metzos has buried something to be recovered later. Aha. Beneath the soil is a heavy parcel wrapped in gray duct tape.

Inside the parcel is $125,000 in cash. This must be the rest of the money Metzos collected. Jeez, he's like a friggin' pirate. This is my new retirement plan right there, touring the country looking for dead drops. The two agents replace the money and carefully restore the dead drop, so that it looks exactly like they found it. Then they set up a concealed, motion-triggered video camera on the utility pole and leave it there, waiting to film whoever comes to collect the money.

Four months later, Hoboken, New Jersey. Ow, Damn it! In their two-bedroom apartment, Cindy scowls at her husband, Richard Murphy. The apartment has the bare minimum of furniture, and yet he's still managed to stub his toe on a lounge chair. Shh! You'll wake the girls. You're supposed to be observant. Murphy rubs his big toe with a wounded expression,

which only increases Cindy's irritation. She stalks off to the kitchen area. Cindy is a petite woman with an ultra short brown bob. To their American friends, she is a native New Yorker with a bubbly personality. But right now she's frustrated. When did you last make any contacts? Is that international affairs degree of yours going to pay off?

Murphy just rubs his toe, wincing. Cindy slams down a pan. You've got to get better at this, Richard. I'm trying. I'm looking for jobs in the State Department. Don't be stupid. You'll have to pass extended security checks. Cindy locks eyes with her husband. Their false identities are based on forged birth certificates.

Good enough to pass standard checks, but any in-depth background check would expose the fraud. You should target companies with access to the White House. Murphy hobbles to the fridge to get a beer. If you've got so many ideas, you do it. Fine, I will. You stay at home with a kid, suits me fine. Cindy washes the dishes furiously

as her husband storms into their bedroom and slams the door. She feels torn. She knows she's the better intelligence officer of the two of them. Murphy is too downbeat to make the connections Moscow needs. He can't fake that American cheeriness. But she can. Cindy initially left her job working for an accountancy firm so she could spend more time with their two girls. Now she must be a spy first and a mother second. her job working for an accountancy firm so she could spend more time with their two girls.

Now she must be a spy first and a mother second. A few months later, the FBI field office New York. FBI agent Maria Ricci and her colleague Derek Piper are checking the audio recordings from the listening devices planted in the Murphys apartment. The two sit up as they hear Murphy's phone ringing. They check the time stamp. Early afternoon. The phone call log confirms it's a call from his wife Cindy.

She's now the breadwinner of the family, working in Manhattan, providing financial advice to wealthy New Yorkers. Murphy answers her call. Yeah? It's me. Did you get the kids off, okay? Yeah, of course I did. I'll be late home tonight. Have you done the vacuuming? I was doing it when you called. Okay. See you later. Richard and Piper look at each other quizzically as they hear Richard turn on the TV instead of the vacuum cleaner. Ha! I recognize that. He's watching The Sopranos.

Do you think he's depressed? Because he's watching The Sopranos instead of vacuuming? No. That's a sign of superior intelligence. What I mean is, it seems like he lacks purpose. You know what will help? When we knock down his door and put him in jail. Richie screws her face up at him. Well that's not gonna happen till we find out how they communicate with Moscow. Years of tape and we've still got no clue. Shh, this is a good episode. Richie laughs but it masks her rising frustration.

Because until they find clear evidence of the Murphys communicating with their spymasters in Moscow, they won't be able to arrest them. Just over six months later, July 2005, Hoboken, New Jersey. 5, Hoboken, New Jersey. It's past midnight and Richie is dressed head to toe in black along with a small team of FBI specialists. They move swiftly and quietly through the apartment block and towards the front door to Richard and Cindy Murphy's apartment. The Murphys are on vacation and the FBI is using the opportunity to search their apartment. They hope to find clues to how the spy couple communicate with Moscow. The team moves slow and quiet.

This search will take hours, but they need to leave no trace. Everything must be photographed as they go, so that they can put everything back exactly how they found it before they leave. They also know that the walls in this apartment block are thin enough that if they make too much noise, the neighbours might hear them. Several hours later, an agent searching the TV cabinet signals for Richie to come over. What is it? He shows her a shoebox filled with computer disks.

There's also a scrap of paper with 27 characters on it that looks a lot like a password. Richie and the agent look at one another and grin. 2005, the FBI field office, New York. Maria Richie chews her lip as an FBI computer analyst inserts another disc from the Murphy's apartment into his computer. During last night's search of the Murphy's apartment, the FBI team copied every disc they found in the shoebox before putting them back as they were. Now they're looking to see what's on them.

But so far, each one has come up blank. Soon, this one shows as blank too. Richie feels her frustration growing. Another of the agents who took part in the search leans forward. One of their notebooks had Alt-Ctrl-E written in it. Try that. Analyst presses the three keys. Nothing changes.

He patiently tries it with all the three keys. Nothing changes. He patiently tries it with all the other disks. Nothing. Richie feels ready to scream. But then, on the last disk, a password prompt appears. They all hold their breath as the analyst types in the 27-character password. He hits return. But instead of access, he gets an error message. It's not the right password.

Richie leans forward. Try it backwards. The error message appears again. Damn it! Richie kicks a metal filing cabinet in frustration. The noise attracts a passing colleague. Having problems? We were so sure this was the password.

The colleague looks at the scrap of paper. You do know that those sevens are actually ones, right? The way Russians write ones make them look like sevens. The team look at each other sheepishly. They close around the analyst again as he rapidly retypes the password. A new message pops up. Insert picture disk. The analyst tries the other disks. Finally, one works and a grainy picture of a flower materialises on screen.

Then another prompt appears. Insert message disk. The analyst's eyes light up. They're using steganography. Steganography what? Steganography. Hiding messages inside digital pictures. They must be uploading the pictures to a website somewhere.

That's how they're communicating with Moscow. The team high-five each other. This is huge. After four years of intense surveillance, they've discovered how the spies talk to spymasters. And, more crucially, gained the ability to intercept all communications between the two. June 2006. The Home Depot, Manhattan.

FBI agents Ritchie and Derek Piper pretend to shop for paint while keeping an eye on their newest surveillance targets. Michael Zatoli and his wife Patricia Mills. These two deep-cover Russian spies live in Seattle, so it's usually down to the Operation Ghost Stories team there to monitor their activities. But yesterday, Zatoli and Mills flew to Manhattan for reasons unknown. So it's fallen to the New York team to find out what they're up to.

Richie picks up another paint pot and whispers to Piper, if this is a romantic weekend away, they're doing the weirdest stuff. I mean, they're in New York. They could be eating great Italian food. Instead, they go to Chick-fil-A. Piper nods. Instead of going to a Broadway show like many tourists,

these Russian spies went to the cinema. Now they're browsing a DIY store. Yeah, Home Depot or Empire State Building. It's a difficult choice. Oh, look, they're checking out shovels. Ritchie glances towards Zatoli and sees him picking out a small shovel from the shelf. The realization hits Ritchie and Piper at the same time. They've just figured out why Zatoli and Mills are in New York.

They're about to head to upstate New York to dig up the $125,000 buried there by Christopher Metzos two years earlier. But when they do, the camera the FBI set up there will capture the moment. And that will give the FBI the evidence they need to connect these Seattle spies with Metzos, the Murphys in New Jersey, and the Russian diplomat that provided the cash in the first place. Five months later, SVR headquarters, Yatsenovoye, Russia. Alexander Potiev sits at a large table with the other senior leaders of Directorate S,

the department that oversees the illegals program. Usually their work is slow and methodical, but today there's a crisis that needs immediate attention. Canadian police have just arrested one of the SVR's travelling illegals who roam the world delivering money and instructions to its network of deep cover spies. And that raises the risk that Metsos could be arrested next. The head of directorate S addresses the room. We cannot take the risk.

We must pull Metsos. If he gets arrested too, it could blow the whole network in the Americas. But how will we get money to our people without him? We can fix that problem later. Right now, we need Metzos to go to ground immediately. He also makes a mental note to alert his FBI and CIA handlers to this development as soon as he can. Nearly two years later, Manhattan. In a high-rise office building near Wall Street,

Russian spy Cindy Murphy knocks on the door of her boss's office. Since she went back to work, Cindy's career has been gathering steam. Her work ethic and charm is helping her thrive as a financial advisor to New York's wealthy elite. And she gets on well with her boss. Cindy, come in, come in. I've got fantastic news. All those meetings with Alan Patrikoff have paid off. Cindy's eyes light up. Patrikoff isn't off. Cindy's eyes light up.

Patrikoff isn't just a potential work client. He's one of her spying targets. He's a major fundraiser for the Democratic Party. He's also a personal friend of Hillary Clinton, who has just become President Barack Obama's first Secretary of State. Cindy, you really helped win him over. so I want you to look after his account. I wouldn't trust it to anyone else.

Cindy smiles. Patrick Hoff is now an unwitting asset, a gateway she can use to get into the inner circle of Clinton, the woman who now oversees US foreign policy. And with Obama eager to improve relations with Russia, the timing is perfect. Her life of deep cover spying is about to pay off big time. Wondery plus subscribers can binge full seasons of the Spy Who early and add free on Apple podcasts or the Wondery app. Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell? Email your ideas to the spy who at Wondry.com.

From Wondry, this is the first episode in our season, The Spies Who Invaded Suburbia. A quick note about our dialogue. We can't know everything that was said or done behind closed doors, particularly far back in history, but our scenes are written using the best available sources. So even if a scene or conversation has been recreated for dramatic effect, it's still based on biographical research. We used many sources in our research for this season,

including Russians Among Us by Gordon Carrera and Spy Swap by Nigel West. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Indra Varma. Our show is produced by Vespucci with writing and story editing by Yellow Ant for Wondery. For Yellow Ant, this episode was written by Judy Cooper and researched by Louise Byrne, with special thanks to Valeria Cortez.

Our managing producer is Jay Priest. For Vespucci, our senior producers are Ashley Clivary and Philippa Gearing. Our sound designer is Ivor Manley. Rachel Byrne is the supervising producer. Music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Frisson Sync. Executive producers for Vespucci are Johnny Galvin and Daniel Turkin. Executive producer for Yellow Ant is Tristan Donovan. Our senior producer for Wondery is Theodora Louloudis

and our managing producer is Rachel Sibley. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Chris Bourne, Morgan Jones and Marshall Lewy.