The Spy Who - The Spy Who Inspired the First Bond Girl | Don’t stop running | 2

Episode Date: April 7, 2026

As the Nazis exert control over Continental Europe, British spy Krystyna Skarbek needs to stay one step ahead of the enemy. But she’s about to discover that the Axis powers aren’t her only problem.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. June 1940, Slovakia. Christina Scarbeck watches in horror as the Slovakian sergeant holds up the Black Madonna medallion in triumph. It's past midnight and she's on a bridge being held at gunpoint, along with her Polish resistance comrade Vladimir Ledukovsky. Her and Ledukovsky's bluff that their refugees trying to get back to Poland is now blown. The guards know these black Madonna medallions are the symbol of the Polish resistance group, the Zet Vuzet.

One of the guards returns from searching the river beneath the bridge. Whatever they threw into the river is gone. The guard holding the medallion shrugs. It doesn't matter. This medallion is proof enough that they are spies. Ledukovsky objects. We are not spies. I've won that medallion since I was a child.

Shut up. Your story is shit. And when the Gestapo get here, they will get the truth out of you. Now, let's see what else you're hiding. The guards empty the contents of Scarbeck's backpack onto the ground. A tin of peppermints, a bottle of perfume, lipsticks, then something more incriminating.

Her forged travel documents, complete with her photograph. Then they find the envelope full of the money Scarbeck was to deliver to the resistance in Warsaw. One guard checks the banknotes and grins. Look, money. Lots of money, all in different currencies. They're definitely spies. As the guards share out the cash between them, Scarbeck notices Ledukowski. He's not looking at the guards, but at the nearby woods.

It's only a short run to the tree. If they can distract the guards, they might just be able to get there before the shooting starts. It's risky, but better than waiting for the Gestapo. Money-pocketed, the guards continues searching Scarbeck's belongings. One opens her jewelry box and pulls out her glass bead necklace. The guard aims his flashlight at the necklace and tries to work out if it's also worth stealing. Scarbeck senses a chance to cause a distraction and lunges for the necklace. Get your hands off of my diamonds.

Scarbeck grabs the necklace and pulls. It breaks, sending glass beads tumbling to the ground. The guards slapped Scarbeck across the face, sending her staggering backwards. But then the guards rush to scoop up the beads they now think are diamonds. Before Scarbeck can recover from the blow, Ledukovsky acts. He kicks the flashlight from the guard's hand, grabs Scarbeck's arm and starts running with her towards the woods. 100 yards, 70 yards, 50. Scarbeck and Ledukowski charge into the woods.

The guard fires, but Scarbeck and Ledukowski keep running, into the trees, into the dark, until the guards are left far behind. They've escaped. But Scarbeck's travel papers and her photograph are still on the bridge. And soon that photograph will be in the hands of the Nazi secret police force, the Gestapa. From audible originals, I'm Indra Vama and this is The Spy Who.

In the last episode, Polish aristocrat, Christina Scarbeck, became a British spy and courier of secrets and supplies between Hungary and Nazi-occupied Poland. But after narrowly evading capture in Slovakia, Scarbeck is a wanted woman. And now that France has fallen, few places in mainland Europe will be safe from the reach of the Third Reich. You're listening to The Spy who inspired the first Bond Girl. This is episode two. Don't stop running. June 1940, Budapest, Hungary. In her studio apartment, Christina Scarbeck sits on the sofa that doubles as her bed sipping red wine. It's been two days since she and Vladimir Ledukovsky escaped the Slovakian guards. Now they're back in Budapest.

updating Scarbeck's part-time lover and Polish resistance member, Anjay Koverski, on their failed mission. That's when I kicked the guard. He drops the flashlight and in the confusion I grab Christina and run with her into the woods. Didn't they start shooting? No, they were too busy scooping up her diamonds. By the time they fired, we were already out of range. Scarbeck interjects.

I suspect the money they stole from us had more to do with it. They made more from us than they would have got from delivering us to the Gestapo. Well, whatever the reason, I am glad you both escaped unharmed. So what now? I go back to Poland as soon as possible. Ledukovsky looks horrified. Christina, you can't. It's too dangerous.

I don't care. Poland needs help. I'm going back. Christina, they have your photograph. The Gestapo are probably pinning up wanted posters of you all over Warsaw as we speak. And what do you present? propose I do instead. Sit here drinking wine? Is that your plan? Actually, I'm going to Palestine. Palestine? The Zet Vuzet are furious about the money and intelligence we lost. They don't trust you

because you work for the British and think our capture was suspicious. I told them that's nonsense, but they've ordered me to join the Polish army in Palestine. My spy days are over. Did you not protest? No, Christina. I did not. I am a soldier and And those are my orders. Besides, there's not anything keeping me here, is there? Ledukowski looks at Scarbeck. He still longs to be with her. But he knows their moments of passion were just that.

Moments. He wonders what she sees in Kovetsky. Is it love? Or just a shared lust for danger? Not that it matters. Scarbeck's lack of response only confirms that it's time to move on. So, yes, I'm going to Palestine. What about you, Ange?

Will you stay in Budapest? The Polish intelligence unit has already left for Belgrade. They think Hungary will soon fall under Hitler's sway. I'm told the British may leave too. I'm not leaving. Not yet, anyhow. There's still plenty for me and Christina to do here. If Britain is to hold out, it will need Polish pilots. We must keep the escape lines running.

Ledukovsky thinks it's just as well he's going to Palestine. Being away from these two can only increase his chances of survival. A few weeks later, southern Poland. Scarbeck treks alone across a field in the foothills of the Tatra Mountains. She's just crossed from Slovakia into Poland. Her latest mission is to collect and escort a group of Polish pilots back to Hungary so they can go fight in the Battle of Britain. Scarbeck stops to wipe her brow and notices a face.

but familiar buzz in the air. A plane, and it's getting nearer. And the only aircraft here are German reconnaissance planes watching for insurgent activity. She checks her surroundings. There's no tree cover nearby. She's exposed and easy to spot from above. She starts walking fast, scanning the sky for the aircraft.

She squints into the bright sun and sees it. A single propeller Luftwaffe plane and it's heading her way. Shit. Scarbeck sees a large rock ahead. It's only chest height but the best option she's got. She powers towards it as the plane closes in behind her. Scarbeck dives behind the rock, narrowly avoiding a volley of bullets. She coweres in a ball as the plane passes overhead.

The plane turns preparing for another attack. Scarbeck crouches, poised to spring forward the man. moment the plane commits to its course. If she moves too soon, she could run into the path of its guns. If she moves too late, she'll be cut to ribbons. The plane completes its turn. Scarveck leaps off her haunches and races round to the other side of the rock, skidding to a stop and curling into a tight ball again. The ground around her explodes in a storm of bullets. Scarbeck looks up to see the plane beginning to circle back again. She glowers at the aircraft. It has her trapped. The only way out is to keep playing cat and mouse until the pilot runs out of bullets or fuel.

She gets back on her haunches and prepares to run again. After what feels like hours of scuttling around the rock, the pilot gives up. Scarbeck stands, forms a fist with her thumb sticking out between her index and middle fingers and thrusts it in the direction of the departing plane. You get a fig! Having given the pilot Poland's equivalent of flipping the bird, Scarbeck resumes her journey to collect the Polish pilots with fresh determination. Months later, autumn 1940, Budapest.

In her studio flat, Scarbeck shivers beneath a blanket. She's just got back from another mission to Poland, but this time the hard trek over the mountains has left her exhausted and laid low with flu. She looks up as Koverski enters the apartment. Hey, kitten. How are you feeling? I'll make you a hot lemon. Kovarski heads to the kitchenette and puts on the kettle. A few moments later, he returns. Here, drink up.

Scarbeck clasps the hot drink gratefully. Then she sees the worry on Kovarski's face. Don't worry. I'm not that ill. I just need rest. I'm glad, but it's not that that has me worried. What is it then? I just met with my friends in the Hungarian police. They told me to leave the country before it's too late. Scarbeck's not surprised.

Hungary just joined the Axis powers. She and Koverski now live in enemy territory. Koverski sits next to Skarbeck. Maybe it is time we left. No, not yet. I'm expecting a package from the musketeers. I cannot leave until it arrives. There's no one else to receive it.

Is this information worth the risk? If they are sending it, It matters. But if you wish to go without me, I understand. Leave without you? Never. I will stay until you are ready to leave. Now, finish your drink and rest. You're no use to anyone if you're ill. Two months later, January 1941, Scarbeck Studio Flat.

This is the police. Open up. Scarbeck wakes with a start and shares a glance with Koveski. They both know they should have left Budapest-week ago. Now it's too late to run, but they have rehearsed for this moment. Open this door. Koverski lifts himself out of bed and reaches for his artificial leg. I'm coming, but I need to put my leg on. Kovarski heads to the door while Skarbeck stays under the bedsheet.

What is this about? Ange Koverski. You and Christina Skarbeck are under arrest on suspicion of spying. We have a warrant to search this apartment. Step aside. The police march into the... flat and find themselves gathered around the bed where Scarbeck is still laying beneath the sheets. The police chief glares at her.

Get out of bed. We need to search this apartment. Scarbeck stands up, causing her bed sheet to fall and reveal her naked body. The policeman look embarrassed and avert their eyes, just as she hoped. I'll make you all some tea, but first, please turn around and allow me to dress. The policeman turn their backs to her. She grabs a dress, puts on the kettle, and enters the bathroom. After locking the door, she pulls on the dress and retrieves her diary from the medicine cabinet. As the screech of the kettle and noise of the police search fills the flat,

she tears incriminating pages from the diary and drops them into the toilet bowl. Then she flushes the evidence away. What are you doing in there? Come out immediately. Scarbeck opens the door and smiles sweetly. Is there a problem, officer? Why are you flushing the toilet? Isn't it usual to flush the toilet after use? No.

Forget the tea. Take them away for questioning. The policeman frog march Scarbeck and Koverski out of the flat. Outside, a police van is waiting to deliver them to the Gestapo for interrogation. The police bundle them into the van and slam the doors shut behind them. January 1941, Budapest, Hungary. Two hours after the police arrested Ange Koverski and Christina Skarbeck, In a grand house that's been repurposed as a prison,

Koverski is brought into a large room by a Hungarian policeman. The only seat is a small, uncomfortable-looking wooden chair, and next to it is an intimidatingly large man wearing a grey-green Gestapo uniform. He looks Koverski up and down. Strip to your underpants. Kovreski unbuttons his shirt and hands it to the Hungarian policeman

who examines it as if secrets lurk within it. The same happens with his shoes, socks and trousers. Kovreski notices the Gestapo man eyeing his artificial leg. Remove your leg. I'll need to sit. The Gestapo officer drags the wooden chair to the middle of the room. Now sit and remove your leg. Koverski takes off his leg and watches as the policeman dismantles it. You won't find anything in there.

The Gestapo officer and the police. The policeman ignore him. From elsewhere in the building, Koversky hears Scarbeck coughing. She's had a cough for a few days now. At least she's nearby. The policeman finishes examining the leg. There's nothing. The Gestapo officer nods.

He removes his cap and jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves, then turns to the policeman. You can leave now. The policeman looks ready to object, but then reconsiders and leaves the room. The Gestapo officer. Crouches next to Kovarski, close enough for Kovetsky to feel the Germans warm, tobacco-scented breath on his cheek. Why do you spend so much time at the British legation? Because I doubt the German ambassador would welcome me.

The Gestapo officer grins, then punches Kovarski in the mouth. In a nearby room, Skarbeck hears Kovirski getting beaten. She's in a small room face to face with a thin-faced Gestapo interrogator. In the corner of the room, a Hungarian policeman watches in silence. Mrs Scarbeck, tell me, why does Angei Kovarski spend so much time at the British legation? Scarbeck smiles before delivering the line she and Koverski rehearsed for such a question. Because I doubt the German ambassador would welcome him.

Also, the British ambassador's daughter is very attractive. Scarbeck allows herself to cough. She needs to, but she also wants Kovirsky to know that she. He's nearby. The interrogator narrows his eyes. Hmm. If that is true, why do you also spend so much time there? Have you met Sir Owen, the British ambassador? I guess not. But he is rather dashing. Do you have dealings with the British? Other than flirtations? No.

In the other room, Koverski sits slumped in the wooden chair. A long string of bloody drool hangs from his busted lip. From elsewhere in the building, he hears Scarbeck coughing again. The door to the room opens. Koverski looks up and sees the Hungarian police chief who arrested him. He shouts at him. Hey, we are in the royal kingdom of Hungary and I am a Polish officer. Will you permit this German bastard to carry on hitting me?

The police chief looks startled at the sight of Kovirski in his underpants, with half a leg missing and blood dripping from his mouth. but the Gestapo brute interrogating him looks delighted. So you admit it. You are a Polish army officer. Once an officer, always an officer. But an officer without a leg is not much use. The Gestapo officer readies a fist,

only for the police chief to signal for him to follow him out of the room. The Gestapo man leans in close to Koverski. You think you're funny. Wait until we get you over the border. In the other room, the thin-faced Gestapo interrogator hands Scarbeck a photograph of herself. It's the one from the forged travel documents she lost when escaping the Slovakian guards last summer. This is you, isn't it? Scarbeck coughs again, buying time to think.

Well, the likeness is striking, but it seems to me that the girl in this picture is much prettier. The interrogator looks annoyed and takes the first. photograph back. Scarbeck decides it's time to deploy the distraction she's been formulating since the interrogation began. Using all her willpower, she bites down on her tongue, harder, then harder again, pushing through pain until the flesh gives and blood floods her mouth. And then she coughs. Blood sprays from her mouth in a cloud of red mist and splashes down the front of her dress. The interrogator leaps back in shock. The Hungarian policeman in the corner springs from his seat, eyes wild with terror. How long have you been coughing blood? Have you seen a doctor?

Scarbeck shakes her head as blood drips off of her chin. I didn't want to alarm my friend, but I've been coughing blood for some days now. I was about to see a specialist, but then you arrested me. The interrogator and policeman edged towards the door. They clearly think She's got tuberculosis, just as she hoped. In the other room, the Gestapo Brute presses his face close to Kovarski's. Confess, you're a British spy. But before Kovarski can respond, the door opens. The Gestapo officer spins round, nostrils flaring and irritation at the interruption.

But then, Scarbeck is led into the room. There's dried blood on her chin and splattered down her dress. Kovarski sits up. Christina, are you okay? Scarbeck rushes over and hugs him. Yes, but the doctor says I'm not well. Not well at all. And you might not be either.

The Hungarian policeman who led Scarbeck into the room hands Koverski his clothes and artificial leg. Get dressed. You're both being released under house arrest. You will remain at your apartment until further notice. We're not finished with you two yet. The next morning. Scarbeck pulls her coat tighter around herself to stay warm.

It's before dawn. and she and Kovirsky are in the disused greenhouse behind her apartment building. And inside it is the Opel Olympia that Koverski stole from a German officer many months ago. The stolen vehicle is far too conspicuous to drive around Budapest, so Kovarski's kept it hidden here. He's sure the Hungarian police have no idea it exists, so now he and Skarbeck plan to use it to flee to Belgrade. As Koverski loads the last of their suitcases into the Opel,

their friend Antek appears at the greenhouse doors. He greets Scarbeck with air kisses. Then Koverski bounds over and shakes his hand. Anteck, thank you for coming. What's the surveillance like out there? Light, just two policemen, both watching the front of the building. Good, good. Antek runs his hand over the Opel's curved sandy brown body.

So this is the car you stole. I thought you just made it. up? Only people who have no stories of their own need to lie, my friend. But yes, isn't she a beauty? Four cylinders, top speed of nearly 100 kilometres an hour, provided we get a head start, the police will never catch us. Kovarski notices Scarbeck rolling her eyes at them and gets to business. He hands and tech the key to his main car. So I need you to get my Chevrolet and drive it to the front of the apartment. Once there, honk the horn, that will be our signal to go. If anyone questions you, tell them that we asked you to bring the car to us.

What should I do with a Chevy once you're gone? Whatever you like. It's your Chevy now. Antek grins. Thanks. And God be with you. Antek hugs Kovirski in Skarbeck, then goes to get the Chevy. Scarbeck opens the greenhouse doors and joins Kovarski in the Opel.

Kovarski starts the engine, filling the greenhouse with a smell of exhaust. Ready to say goodbye to Budapest? Yes. I don't think I can pull the tongue trick twice. At the sound of the Chevrolet's horn, Koverski hits the gas. The Opel speeds out of the greenhouse, then skids on ice as it turns onto the street. Koverski wrestles with the steering wheel for a moment before gaining control. Then they're off, racing away and leaving their watchers far behind.

The following month, Belgrade, Yugoslavia. Outside the Hotel Majestic, Scarbeck uses her umbrella to shield herself and Koverski from the downpour as he loads cans of petrol into the Opel's boot. They arrived in the Yugoslav capital a few weeks back, crossing the border using fake passports supplied by the British. Koverski now travels under the alias, Andrew Kennedy, while Scarbeck's papers identify her as Christine Granville. But the safety of Belgrade proved,

illusionary. Germany, Hungary and Italy are preparing to invade. So the two spy lovers are about to follow the British and leave for Bulgaria. Koverski loads the last can of petrol into the car and slams the boot door shut. We should go. The musketeer said there would be a courier. The musketeers are a Polish resistance group and Skarbeck's been acting as the link between them and British intelligence for months. But Koverski is in no mood to wait. They're courieries. should have been here days ago. He may have been caught. He'll be here. You know that the Zet Vuzet don't trust the musketeers. The Zet Vuzet don't trust the British either. Or us. Scarbeck doesn't reply. She's too focused on the young man walking towards them. Koverski eyes the man. Is that him?

Maybe. The man walks right up to Scarbeck. He has no umbrella and his hair is sodden from the rain. Christina Scarbeck? Yes? Thank God. I thought I was too late. I'm with the musketeers. Scarbeck offers him a cigarette. He takes it and lets Koverski light it for him. It's enough cover for them all to pretend he's scrounging a cigarette from them, so long as they're quick. Scarbeck looks at the man. You have something for me? The courier passes her a small package of microfilm. She slips it inside her gloves. Then she notices the courier's still standing there.

You should go now. Yes, but look. I don't know what's on that film, but I've been told to tell you that it's really important. It has to reach the British at any cost. Scarbeck nods. It will. At any cost. Thank you. With that, the courier hurries away, turning up his collar to shield himself from the rain.

Scarbeck senses that the musketeers must have uncovered something big this time. She and Koverski need to get to Bulgaria without delay. The next day, February 1941. the British legation, Sophia, Bulgaria. In his office, British air attaché, Aidan Crawley, uses a magnifying glass to examine the microfilm Christina Scarbeck gave him. He wasn't sure what to make of the odd couple who turned up at the legation in a German car,

but if this intelligence is for real, it's red-hot. The film contains evidence of a massive German military build-up at the Soviet border. images of tanks, Wehrmacht regiments and panzer divisions, plus a list of the petrol depots that will supply them. It seems Hitler's about to launch a surprise attack on the USSR. This is huge. If Germany attacks the Soviets,

Britain would no longer be fighting the Third Reich alone. But before he sends the intel onto London, he needs to know where it came from. Crawley locks the film in his safe, then heads to the room next door where Scarbeck is waiting. Sorry for the wait. I need to ask some questions. First, who exactly are you?

I am an agent for Section D of the Secret Intelligence Service. I was based in Budapest. I have a letter of introduction. Crawley checks the letter. It's from Sir Owen, the British ambassador to Hungary, and seems genuine. But Crawley also knows that Section D no longer exists. It's been absorbed into a new spy agency called the Special Operations Executive.

Maybe as an agent in the field, Scarbeck hasn't heard. Equally, she could be a double agent working off outdated information. I see. And from whom did you obtain the film you gave me? I was given it just before leaving Belgrade to come here, from a courier for the musketeers. That the intel came from the musketeers gives crawly further pause. The main Polish resistance group, the Zet Vuzet, has warned Britain that the musketeers have been seen talking to the Germans in Warsaw.

The Zet Vuzet also suspects that the leader of the musketeers, Stefan Wittkovsky, is a double agent. There's no proof, but the accusations cast a shadow over any intelligence from the musketeers and any agent who works with them. Even so, the news that Germany might be about to invade the Soviet Union is too big. big not to pass on. Crawley stands. Thank you for bringing us this information, Ms. Garbeck. It will reach the right people. In the meantime, you should leave immediately for Istanbul. Sophia won't be safe much longer. Bulgaria seems certain to join the Axis any day now, and we're preparing to sever diplomatic relations. And when we get to Istanbul, report to the embassy there and wait for instructions. One months later, Istanbul, Turkey. Inside the Park Hotel,

Scarbeck's husband, Yerze Gizitsky, strolled down the corridor with a spring in his step. He's carrying a bouquet of flowers and is about to see his wife for the first time in 15 months. He wrote to her in Budapest often, but she never replied. He feared the worst, but then heard she's resurfaced in Istanbul. He reaches her room, smooths down his hair, and knocks on the door. Scarbeck opens the door and looks startled at the sight of him. Yerje smiles. My darling, you are as beautiful as ever.

How good to see you again. I missed you so. Yerge pulls Scarbeck towards him in a tight embrace and smothers her in kisses. She doesn't resist, but he senses that his affections aren't being reciprocated. He imagines it's the shock of his surprise arrival. He releases her. She stares at him. How did you find me? The British Embassy gave me your address.

Well, aren't you going to invite your husband in? Oh, um, of course. Scarbeck moves aside and Yerje marches into the room. He notices a pair of men's shoes, then the unmade bed, and then the blonde, mustached man sitting on the balcony, sipping coffee. Scarbeck positions herself between him and the man. Yerge, you remember my childhood friend, Ange Koverski, don't you? From the balcony, Koverski gives Yerze an awkward wave.

But the fear on his face is clear. Yerge glares at Scarbeck. What is going on here? What do you mean? Last time I saw you, you were leaving for Hungary with tears in your eyes at the thought of not being with me. But then you didn't write back to me. And now I find you here with... With this.

It's not what you think. Do not treat me like a fool. Damn this bloody war. Yerge throws the flowers to the floor, then storms out of the room, muttering. Three months later, Cairo, Egypt. Scarbeck peers over her sunglasses as Koverski pulls their opal car to a stop outside the Grand Continental Hotel. After months of waiting around in Istanbul, the Special Operations Executive told them to head for Cairo. So they've spent the past months following the Mediterranean coastline south through Syria and Palestine.

Scarbeck has put her brief, unhappy reunion with her husband behind her. Her focus now is on rejoining the fight. Ever since they fled Budapest, they've done little besides waiting and running. She steps out of the car and takes in the magnificent hotel. On the veranda, Allied servicemen and women drink, dance and flirt. Cairo is now a hub for the Allies in North Africa, but the Axis forces are closing in. Everyone here seems to be imbibing life while they can, before the Third Reich's darkness consumes this city too.

A bellboy loads their luggage onto a baggage cart and leads them into the hotel. As they wait to check in, an Englishman who was waiting in the lobby puts down his newspaper, approaches and addresses them by their aliases. Ms Granville and Mr Kennedy, the SOE welcomes you to Cairo. Thank you. When will we get orders? You will be contacted when required. Until then, stay out of trouble. Scarbeck watches the man leave the hotel, then turns to Kovirski.

That was odd. I expected a warmer welcome. Don't worry. I'm sure they'll be in touch soon. One month later, Skarbeck and Kovreski are in a secluded villa on the banks of the Nile. They've been in Cairo for weeks waiting for orders. Now, at last, they've been summoned to the SOE's base of operations in the city. S.O.E officer Peter Wilkinson leads them into his office and gestures for them to sit.

Would you care for some tea? Scarbeck shakes her head. No. I would rather get to business. Do you have a mission for us? We've been waiting weeks. Wilkinson breaks eye contact to look at the file in front of him. I'm afraid there are some complications with that.

Scarbeck doesn't like where this is heading. Like what? There have been allegations by Polish intelligence that you are untrustworthy. Scarbeck is stunned. Koverski sits up. Untrustworthy? We have risked our lives to get you information. I demand to know where these allegations come from.

The Zet Vuzet has reason to suspect Stefan Vitkovsky and his musketeers. You have a close working relationship with them. Scarbeck angrily leans forward. The Zet Vuzet wants control. If it wasn't for Vitkovsky, you British would know nothing about what's going on in Poland. Nevertheless, the decision has been made that neither of you can be sent on Polish operations, which renders you rather useless, I'm afraid. Scarbeck is on her feet. How dare you sit behind that desk and say these things.

That is my job. The SOE will continue to pay you until the war's end. And your service need not end? I'm sure the Polish army could find a use for you, Andre. Scarbeck folds her arms aggressively. And what about me? The Red Cross needs nurses and secretaries. Nurses and secretaries? Enraged, Scarbeck marches out of the villa and into the oppressive heat outside. came to Cairo to rejoin the war. Instead, she's now an outcast, distrusted by her own side. Before the war, she was caged, trapped in a claustrophobic marriage by her domineering husband. The war set her free and gave her a new life of adventure. For the first time since she was a child, she felt truly alive. But now, the British have clipped her wings and locked her in a new cage. Follow the Spy Who on the

app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to all episodes of The Spy Who ad free by joining Audible. You have been listening to The Spy Who, an Audible original. Have you got a spy story you'd like to tell us? 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 for dramatic effect, it's still based on biographical research. We used various sources in our research for this season, including The Spy Who Loved by Claire Mully and Christine by Madeline Masson. The Spy Who is hosted

by me, Indra Vama. The producer was Vespucci with writing and story editing by Yellowand. For Yellowand, the story editor was Judy Cooper. by Louise Byrne with thanks to Inabraws. The managing producer was Jay Priest. For Vespucci, the senior producer was Holly Aquilina, the sound designer was Alex Port Felix, Natalia Rodriguez was the supervising producer. Music supervision by Scott Velasquez for Frisson Sink.

For Vespucci, the executive producers were Johnny Galvin and Daniel Turkin. For Yellowand, the executive producer was Tristan Donovan. For Audible, the executive producers were Estelle Dors. Doyle and Theodora Luludis.