The Spy Who - The Spy Who Betrayed the American Revolution | Liberty and the Pursuit of Intelligence | 1

Episode Date: June 23, 2026

It’s 1775 and after years of rising tensions, rebellion is about to break out in British North America. The 13 rebel colonies want to shake off rule from London and form a new nation: The United States of America. But with their Patriot army no match for the might of the British Empire, they need to even the odds by turning to espionage.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of The Spy Who, add-free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. April 22, 1775, New Haven, Connecticut, British, North America. Benedict Arnold straps on his sword and checks his reflection in a hallway mirror. Looking back at him is a broad-shouldered man in his mid-thirties, with his dark hair neatly tied back in the fashion of the day. He straightens his back, aware that today, destiny calls. He steps out from his house and into the morning light.

Gulls wheel overhead. In the harbour, ships swayed gently in the breeze. The air smells of salt, tar, wood smoke, and the day's trade. Fish just landed, molasses in the warehouses, and mud from the tidal flats. Arnold is a merchant. the smuggler, and the richest man in New Haven. He's also a senior figure in the local branch of the Sons of Liberty, a clandestine network of men who oppose British taxes and rule.

People stare as Arnold strides through the streets. He rounds a corner and sees the green at the centre of town ahead, packed with members of the Sons of Liberty. Many are carrying pistols with shot pouches hung at their sides. The crowd parts as Arnold approaches. He stands before them and pulls a folded letter from his coat. Arnold scans the letter once more, then looks up. Last night, I received this note from our brothers near Boston.

Two days past, British troops marched from Cambridge to Lexington. They found our militia formed there and fired upon them. without provocation. Quiet, please. Six men were killed. More were wounded. And another British column marches even now. Unease ripples through the crowd.

The rumours are true. After a decade of grievance, war has begun between the colonists of America and their British rulers. The trouble began with taxes, imposed by a distant, undemocratic parliament in London. That led to boycotts, then protests, then blood in the streets. But never open war.

That line has now been crossed. Arnold folds up the letter. My fellow patriots, are we to sleep while Americans lie dead at British hands? Are we to surrender our liberties or do? offend them. Will we be governed by ourselves or by a king who lives in a gilded palace across an ocean? Then follow me! To arms!

Arnold leads his men across the green toward the tavern where New Haven's elected leaders are gathered. He sees faces peer from the tavern windows, then vanish. Show yourselves! Arnold's men ready their best. pistols. Out! Before we drag you! A man steps out from the table.

He's one of New Haven's select men. Mr. Arnold, gentlemen, please, we met last night. In these matters, we have agreed to remain neutral. Arnold studies the man,

but says nothing. To be clear, we do not side with the British. Arnold's lip. Curls, then hand over the keys to the powder store. That is colony property. We cannot release it without the proper authority. Authority?

Our people are being shot down in the streets by British redcoats. And you speak of authority? You must understand. No, you understand. Hand me the keys or we shall take them. None but almighty God shall hold us. my march. The town leader hesitates, then blazes the keys to the munition store in Arnold's open palm.

Authority has passed from the town to the mob. New Haven will now join the uprising against British rule. And Arnold has taken his first step to becoming one of the American Revolution's greatest leaders and its most infamous traitor. When a charming neurosurgeon rode into western towns selling a persona of confidence and care, patients trusted him. He wore cowboy boots in the operating room and became sought after by patients. He promised to heal them. Instead, he left a trail of broken bodies.

This is a story of greed, betrayal, and a fight for justice. Listen to Dr. Death, The Cowboy, wherever you get your podcasts, or binge the entire series right now, only with Audible. Alison Matt here from British Scandal. Matt's some news for you. British Scandal is going to Broadway. What? Sorry, not literally.

I just mean we're taking it to the stage. Is this your festival crossed wires? We're all the UK's biggest podcast do live shows across iconic venues in Sheffield between the 2nd and 5th of July. That was a beautiful read. Matt and I cordially invite you to our British Scandal live show

on Sunday, July the 5th. And if we're doing the story, I think we are, it is potentially one of the most ridiculous scandals we've ever told. So grab a ticket at crossedwires. That's C-R-O-S-S-E-D-Wires. Live. I'm Raza Jafri, and this is The Spy Who, an audible original. Beneath the veneer of the everyday lurks the realm of the spy.

It's a dank, murky world, full of dark corners, sinister motives, and corrupted morals. A place of paranoia and infiltration, sabotage, and sabotage, manipulation. This season, we marked 250 years since the US Declaration of Independence by retrieving the file on America's most notorious turncoat, Benedict Arnold. You almost secured victory for Britain. It's 1776 and 18 months have passed since the American rebels of the 13 colonies took up arms against British rule. At first, the Patriots held their ground and drove British forces out of Boston. Then on July 4th, 1776, they declared the birth of a new nation, the United States of America. But now, they're on the back foot. British troops have arrived in force in New York, the gateway to the continent. Tens of thousands of British soldiers are closing in on the rebel army led by General George Washington. His forces are stretched across Long Island, outflanked, outgunned and outnumbered, and rapidly losing ground to the most powerful military on earth.

This is the spy who betrayed the American Revolution. Episode 1. Liberty and the pursuit of intelligence. August 29, 1776, Brooklyn, just across the East River from Manhattan. Thick fog clings to the moonlit shoreline. Through it, shadowy figures move in silence, hauling cannons, guiding horses, and loading supplies into waiting boats. Patriot soldier, Benjamin Talmud, picks his way through the mud. He has been in the army only a matter of days. Before that, he was a schoolteacher, a minister's son raised to believe in peace and restraint.

But there is nothing peaceful here. The Battle of Long Island has broken, Washington. The British have outmaneuvered the rebels, sweeping around their flank and driving them back toward the water. Hundreds are dead or captured. Now they're trapped against the shoreline. At dawn, the British plan to attack in overwhelming numbers. There is only one way out, a retreat across the river, to the safety of rebel-controlled Manhattan. So General Washington has ordered his army to attempt to cross it under the cover of darkness.

But British warships lurk in the darkness. If the fog lifts, it could be another massacre. Talmud approaches a boat and stumbled, colliding with another soldier. He looks up to see his closest friend, Nathan Hale, the man who Talmudg persuaded to join the Patriot Army. Hail. Thank God. The friends clasp each other briefly, then break apart to push their boat off into the fog. The boats creep across the river, enveloped by mist. Talmud leans towards Hale. Is it over? There aren't enough of his left. There were so many that the British seemed to be everywhere. It wasn't just their numbers. What do you mean? They knew where to strike us are vulnerabilities.

Now, someone tipped them off. There's no other explanation. Talmadge looks out across the water. A new thought takes hold in his mind. So even having more soldiers wouldn't have changed matters. Only God loves. But muskets and heart alone are not enough. We also need to know more than the other side.

Two weeks later, Manhattan. In a commandeered house turned barracks, Hale stands to attention. The room smells of damp wood and sweat. Maps paper the walls. Muskets lean in the corners. A commanding officer steps inside. Hale is part of a small scouting unit, tasked with observing British movements across the river on Long Island.

The rebel army escaped Brooklyn, but only just. and the British are making preparations to take Manhattan next. Hail and the other men salute. The commander looks at his men. At ease. General Washington requires a volunteer from our unit. Someone to vanish behind enemy lines. The words hang in the air.

We need to know what the king's men are planning. We need someone on Long Island. a moment, no one speaks. Do you mean spying, son? The commander hesitates. Spying is seen as dishonorable, not the work of gentlemen. And if court, there will be no prisoner exchange, only the gallows. Yes, I do. The men stand in silence. None volunteer. Hale feels a flicker of frustration. He has spent a year in uniform, but all he's done is retreat. Perhaps this is an opportunity, a chance to change the course of history. Sir, I'll do it.

Captain Hale. Good man. Report to General Washington in the morning. Dismissed. The men close in around Hale as the meeting ends. What are you thinking? Spying is the work of a scoundrel will hang if they catch you. Hale shrugs them off.

I'll do whatever my country needs at me. You can thank me later. The following day, Nathan Hale climbs the steps of a grand house overlooking the East River that is now the American Army's headquarters. Before he can knock, the door opens, and a soldier motions for Hale to follow him inside.

This way, please, Captain Hale. Hale is ushered into a quiet room. General George Washington stands by a table. Overlapping maps spread before him. He looks up. Hale, salutes. Captain Hale reporting, sir. Ah, Hale. There you are.

Sit. Washington studies Hale's face. Some men consider what I ask of you to be dishonorable. But I do not. We lost Long Island for one's face. Long Island for one simple reason. I knew too little. Washington taps on the map sprawled across his desk. I did not know where the enemy would strike. I did not know what they were thinking. The British, however, seemed to know all our plans. Washington looks up and hail. When I was a younger man,

I undertook such work myself. You did, sir? Yes. In the world. war against the French. Spying is not pleasant work. There is no glamour or glory, but it is necessary. Washington returns his attention to the map. I need numbers, true movements, falsification placements, supply routes.

I need you to be my eyes. For too long, we've been fighting blind. Bring me this information, and we may yet hold Manhattan. Now, Captain, what is your story, should anyone care to ask? Hale straightened slightly. A schoolteacher, sir. I intend to use my own name.

I have my Yale certificate in hand. Truths that all help conceal the lie. Impressive. At Long Island? I take it you know the area? Hale hesitates before catching himself. My closest friend is from there. Lieutenant Benjamin Talmadge, he has shown me maps.

Washington considers this for a moment. Then nods sharply. Very well. Leave him three days. Godspeed, Captain. Three days later. In Manhattan, Talmudge stands at the end of Horn's Hook Fort, surveying the East River. Beyond the water is Brooklyn.

And there, in clear view, the British Harwich. army. British ships crowd the river below, their decks alive with movement. Those loyal to the crown are making no attempt to conceal their intentions. They are preparing for battle. Talmud looks up and sees Hale. He smiles. Then, seeing his friend's grave expression, tenses. Hale? What's wrong? This is goodbye? Why? He's not? He is, he's a good-bye? Why? He needed it home. I've been given a task by General Washington. What sort of task? Hale nods across the water. I'm headed for Long Island, behind their lights. You meet a spy, but you do not know Long Island. I'm a good listener. I remember everything you told me. Talmud shakes his head in disbelief.

No else have you told about this. You well know there were British spies among us. Just you. Although I did volunteer in front of others. Talmudge's expression tightens. He expected as much. Hale has always been too quick to trust. Hale reaches into his coat pocket and produces a folded letter.

Should I fail to return? Make sure this reaches my thumb. Talmage takes me. the letter. For a moment, neither man speaks. Then the two friends embrace. I'll be with you, Hale. And with you. Talmudges watches Hale leave and not forming in his chest. Hale is a good man, honest, principled. But for a spy, such virtues can be fatal. There are people you're told to trust, lawyers, teachers, especially doctors. But what happens when you put your life in someone's hands and they betray you?

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Listen to Dr. Death, the cowboy, wherever you get your podcasts, or binge the entire series right now, only with Audible. The next day, mid-September. 1776, Norwalk, Connecticut. A small boat waits at the moonlit shoreline. Nathan Hale sits in the bow. Facing him is the boat's captain, it will ferry hail across the water to Long Island. In silence, Hale undresses. Piece by piece, he removes his uniform, the evidence of his rank and allegiance. In its place, he pulls on a plain brown suit and a bulletin. broad-brimmed a hat. He becomes, button by button, a man with no obvious loyalties.

Hale empties his pockets, letters, notes, anything that might betray him. He hands them to the American officer who escorted him here. Only one document remains in his possession, his Yale diploma. The document that he hopes will verify his claim to be a schoolteacher in search of work. Hale climbs aboard the boat and the captain casts off. The shoreline begins to fall away behind them. The soldier turns spy, turns towards Long Island, toward the British. The following day, British controlled Long Island.

At a jetty on the island's north shore, the Royal Navy schooner HMS Halifax bobs in the water. And on board, Major Robert Rodgson, Major Robert Rogers of the Queen's Rangers leans forward in his chair. Thickset and battle-worn, Rogers has a wolfish face, heavy-browed and keen-eyed. And standing in front of him is an informer from Norwalk, who's crossed the sound with urgent news. They look like army men to me, sir. Rebels? Yes. Where were they headed?

Well, here's the thing, sir. One boarded a sloop and crossed the sound. The other turned back toward the rebel line. lines. Rogers considers this. His spies have already reported a small vessel sighted further along the shore. He studies the informant. When did this occur? Last night. Rogers nods once sharply. The pieces appear to align. A crossing in darkness, a man left behind to cover his tracks. The rebels have smuggled the man into British territory. Rogers pays his informant who hurries away. Rogers turns to his boat skipper. Set a course for Sands Point. If the rebel spy made for Long Island, Sands Point is the most likely landing place. He has a head start, but the British are already on his

trail. Later that day, Nathan Hale tracks along a dusty road on Long Island. He is headed west toward Brooklyn. He feels the weight of his mission, no longer a soldier, but a spy in plain clothes. Lost in his thoughts, he rehearses his new identity with every step. Up ahead, a farmer approaches, pushing a wheelbarrow laden with freshly dug vegetables, onions, squashes and a plump pumpkin. Hail, smiles at him. Sir, good day. May I trouble you for a moment?

The farmer cocks his head, but says nothing. I'm a schoolteacher. I recently arrived from Connecticut. I'm seeking work. You'll not find much of that round here. Folks are more concerned with surviving than learning right now. Hail nods carefully. I've heard there's been movement.

Movement. The British are already on Manhattan. They are? Word is, they landed there in force yesterday. if you're thinking of going to Manhattan, you should turn back because they'll be needing grave diggers more than teachers. Hale processes the news. While he was crossing the sound, the war moved on without him. News travels slowly here. Hale forces a polite smile. I see. Well, I'm grateful for your time. Hale walks on. Only when the farmer is out of sight

does his composure falter. His mission to gather information on the British forces in Brooklyn is already obsolete. Hale wonders if he should abandon and turn back, but then a new plan forms in his mind. If the bulk of the British army are fighting in Manhattan, there will be fewer troops in Brooklyn. It'll be easier to blend in and glean some intelligence about what comes next. Hale presses on with renewed purpose, toward the epicenter of the enemy's strength. In a Long Island tavern, Nathan Hale takes a deep glug of ale, then sets his tankard firmly on the table. He is tired and dusty. He's been roaming Long Island for five days, tracking from village to village, watching, listening, and taking notes.

He is recorded every British position he's passed and chatted with locals for any scrap of information he can gather. With a sense of satisfaction, Hale reviews his notes. has estimates of troop numbers, the placements of fortifications, and details of supply lines. George Washington will be pleased, he thinks. A man with a wolfish appearance sits down in the chair opposite him, uninvited. Hale folds his notes and slips them out of sight. The stranger smiles. You don't mind, do you?

No, of course not. Yes, sir. A maid sets down a bowl of lump and stew on the table in front of the stranger. The man slurps it down hungrily, then fixes Hale with a stare. We heard the news. Which news? The rebels have been driven out of Lower Manhattan. Hale's attention sharpens.

How do you know? The stranger leans in. The stranger studies Hale, as if measuring his reaction. Hale senses this is a test, but of what exactly? Is he trying to communicate something? Could he be, after so long wandering alone through enemy territory, Hale is desperate for an ally. He decides to take a chance.

I too share your convictions. I thought as much. Good to find a friendly face. Name's Robert. Nathan. So, Nathan, what brings you here? I'm a schoolteacher looking for work? School teacher?

Then how did you come by that? The man lightly brushes his thumb along a mark on Hale's face. A gunpowder burn he got while fighting in Brooklyn. Hale hesitates, inwardly cursing. Why hadn't he thought of a story for this? Uh... The stranger smiles and leans in. Say nothing.

I understand. I too am on a mission. Patriot militia. The man holds a finger to his lips. Hale's eyes brighton. I was sent to observe the British. I have what I came for. I just need a way back to Manhattan.

Do you know safe route? Yeah. I can help you with that. He raises his tankard. To interpret. Pendants! Hale's eyes widen. Quiet, what on earth?

All around him, men rise to their feet, readying their pistols. Hale spins in horror in his seat, but it's too late. He's surrounded. The stranger sits back in his chair, grinning. I didn't introduce myself properly. I'm Major Robert Rogers of the Queen's Rangers. These are my men. and your treachery is over.

Hale stands trembling, panic flooding his body. Rogers takes a hefty swig of his tankard, then rises from his chair. Don't worry, Nathan. I'm a man of my word. I said I'd get you to Manhattan, and I will. And once I get you there, you'll swing by your neck. The next day, September 22nd, 1776.

Washington's camp, Upper Manhattan. Patriot Army officer, Benjamin Talmudge, hurries through the camp. All around him, there are the signs of an army under strain. Mud churned pathways, tired men in patched coats, huddled around cook fires. He just got word that a British officer has arrived under a flag of truce, and that must mean a prisoner exchange is being offered.

Talmud is desperate to know who the British are offering. They took his brother a prisoner at the Battle of Brooklyn. Perhaps there will be word of him. He sees a group of officers returning from meeting the British officer. They dismount. One of them is a former classmate from Yale. He sees Talmud and approaches. His expression is grave.

What is it? Do you carry news of my brother? Not here. The two men moved beyond the lines of tents and huddled soldiers to a patch of quieter ground. There's no word of your brother. I'm sorry. Talmudg considers the news. It's concerning, but no news is perhaps better than what he had feared. There's something else, though.

They caught a spy of ours on Long Island. Ah, so you already know. They hanged him yesterday. Talmadge does not move, barely able to take in what he has been told. Then, all at once, the realization hits. He persuaded Hale to join the Patriot uprising, and that has now cost Hale his life. Talmudge looks up at the trees, then down at the ground, anywhere other than at the bearer of this grave news. You and Hale look close?

Talmadge exhales slowly, blinking back tears. It should have been me. I should have gone. I could have done it. The officer walks away, leaving Talmudge to his grief and regret. The war goes on around him, unmoved by the suffering and inflicts on all participants. Three weeks later, upstate New York, had a shipyard on the shore of Lake Champeau. plane. Benedict Arnold watches as his men race to assemble a makeshift fleet.

Since rallying the men of New Haven to the rebel cause at the start of the war, he's become a brigadier general in the Continental Army and built a reputation as one of America's most aggressive field commanders. He was a merchant once, or, depending on whom you asked, a smuggler. Either way, he made his fortune roaming the high seas and slipping past British restrictions until they tightened around him. So when the war came, Arnold did not hesitate to join the fight for independence. Arnold turns away from the shipbuilding to see his commanding officer, General Horatio Gates, unfurl a large map across the table. There is news from the far north of the lake. A large British fleet is advancing from Quebec, carrying reinforcements south.

If Arnold cannot slow it here, British troops and supplies will pour down the lake towards Manhattan. General Gates places a finger on the map. We fall back to the fort at the southern end, a defensive posture. That way we have a chance of survival. Arnold's patience snaps. No! No, we cannot, sir. Retreat and they'll sail through.

If that happens, they'll reinforce. their armies in New York. General Washington and his men will be finished. Gates narrows his eyes. What are you proposing? Arnold leans over the map. Here, we meet them here on the lake. For us them to fight. With what fleet? Arnold gestures towards the shipbuilders. With what we have? We do not need to defeat them, only to diminish and delay them. By Washington, some time. Gates watches him. It's obvious he dislikes Arnold's tone, but the logic is sound. They just need to hold the British ships back long enough for winter to set in. Once that happens, they will have to hunker down until the thaw. That could give Washington's army a chance to survive.

Gates exhales slowly, then nods. The plan is set. Arnold turns back to the fragile fleet taking shape outside. His plan is a reckless gamble, but recklessness is where he feels most at home, and fortune favours the brave. The following day, Lake Champlain. Arnold's fleet lies hidden in the narrow rocky strait between Valcour Island and the lake's western shore. There are only 15 small vessels, each rough-built and undergunned, but it's all they could assemble in time. Arnold stands aboard his schooner, spyglass raised to his eye, scanning the northern horizon beyond the island. At first, he sees only water and sky. Then, one by one, the British masts begin to appear. Their sails whitening in the distance as they advance.

The Royal Navy's ships are larger, heavier vessels with plenty of firepower. But they do not expect to fight. No scouts range ahead of them. Their captains are unaware of what waits in the narrows. Arnold allows himself a thin smile, raises his arm, then calls out. Now! The American ships surge forward from their cover. Pull! Pull! And straight into the path of the British line. The first volley slams into enemy ships. The British are caught off guard. The wind works against them. Their heavier vessels struggle to turn to bring their guns to bear on the smaller, swifter American fleet.

Arnold presses the advantage, driving his fleet closer. Arnold's fleet fires again and again into the looming columns of British ships. Broad Navy cannons fire back. The hull of a nearby American vessel tears open. One of Arnold's crew cries out. General, we need to fall back. Arnold ignores him. Hold steady.

His eyes remain fixed on the battle. He does not need to defeat the British, only to delay them. He is sure General Washington will reward him for his bravery and cunning. Three months later, February 1777, New Jersey. Patriot Captain Talmudge moves between the tents, his breath misting in the freezing air. It's late and most of the camp is asleep, but he has been summoned to see General George Washington without explanation. In recent months, his duties have been administrative, purchasing horses, managing supplies, useful, necessary work, but a long way from the front line. Talmadge ducks as he enters a large lamplit tent.

Washington stands at the center. Beside him are two men. One slight, composed and recently appointed to oversee intelligence. The other broad-shouldered, watchful. Washington looks up. Ah, Talmage. You asked to see me, sir. Yes.

Captain, we are losing this war. The British know too much, and still we know far too little. The only way we prevail is to out-spy-them. I want you to support our spies. Washington watches Talmud's expression, as if checking that any emotions over the execution of Nathan Hale, will interfere with this task. but if anything, that makes Talmadge wants to do it more.

This is a chance to ensure other patriot spies don't share Hale's fate. Sir, I'm ready to serve. Good. You know Major Clark, I presume? The slight-looking man, Major John Clark, steps forward, so he can be seen more clearly in the lamplight. Indeed. The two men nodded one another. Washington continues his briefing.

Clark will travel to Long Island and work behind enemy lines. You will see him safely there. Identify places he may hide. Devise a means by which his reports may reach us without detection. Yes, sir. Good. And remember, if we are to win our liberty, understanding the enemy's strength, defenses and intentions is critical.

Begin preparations tomorrow. Dismissed. Talmuch leaves the tent a picture of composure and calm. He just prays this mission will end differently to Hales. Two months later, April 1777, Providence, Rhode Island. A rider enters the American army camp where Arnold and his men are awaiting their next orders. I have a letter for Brigadier Arnold.

Arnold takes the letter from the rider. It bears General Washington's seal. For a moment, his expression lifts. This is what he has been waiting for. He steps inside his quarters. Six months earlier, Arnold held the line at the Battle of Valkur Island on Lake Champlain. It was a reckless fight, but delayed the British advance from Quebec, buying the Patriot Corps' precious time to survive the winter.

Without his daring attack, the American Revolution could have already been snuffed out. Now, there is still hope. Not that Arnold feels he's received much thanks. He expected a promotion. Instead, Congress snubbed him. Enraged, he wrote to General Washington pleading for him to intervene. Arnold unfolds the letter and reads, quickly. Then, more slowly, his expression tightens. Washington explains that he too was surprised at

the snub. The decision, however, was not military, but political. A matter of balance. The American Army already has too many generals from Connecticut. Congress must ensure every state is represented and so nothing can be done. Washington's letter ends with a warning to Arnold. Do nothing rash. Arnold crunches up the letter and hurls it to the ground. Washington's words settle in his mind, then sour. This war is supposed to be about creating a new kind of nation,

one that rewards merit. But the new regime already feels like the old one, A hierarchy built on patronage, politics and favour. Arnold stands in silence. He risked everything for a cause that it seems is unwilling to reward him in return. You've been listening to The Spy Who, an Audible original. Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell? Email your ideas to The Spy Who at Audible.com.

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 of a dramatic effect, it's still based on biographical research. We used many sources in our research for this season, including spies, patriots and traitors by Kenneth Daigler,

George Washington's Secret Six by Brian Kilmese. Mead and Don Yeager and Washington Spies by Alexander Rose. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Raza Jaffrey. It's a Yellow Ant production. This episode was written by Simon Parkin, fact-checking by Louise Byrne. The senior producer was Jay Priest. The sound designer was Damian Pace. The lead sound designer was Joshua Morales.

Music Supervision by Scott Velasquez for Frisson Sink. For Yellow Ant, the story editor and executive producer was Tristan Donovan. For Audible, the executive producers were Estelle Doyle and Theodora Leludis. Follow the Spy Who on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to all episodes of The Spy Who, add free by joining Audible.