The Spy Who - The Spy Who Lived Inside Al-Qaeda | Disposable Hero | 3

Episode Date: November 11, 2025

Danish spy Morten Storm is closing in on terrorist cleric Anwar al-Awlaki to secure a huge CIA bounty. But he’s about to be double crossed.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 add free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondry app. August 2011, Senar, Yemen. Danish spy Morton Storm leans against his Suzuki truck and watches the crowds outside the KFC in front of him. It's a late evening during Ramadan, and the fast food restaurant is crowded with young people breaking their daytime fast. The brightly lit Colonel Saaner's logo is a surreal contrast with the white and gold minarets

of the huge mosque that sits just behind the restaurant. Storm is waiting for a courier. In the pocket of his thorpe, he's got a USB stick, containing an encrypted message for Anwar al-Aulaki. The terrorist cleric still thinks Storm is a friend and committed Western converts to the jihadist movement. But Al-Aulaki is also a CIA assassination target. So now, all contact is made via encrypted messages on USB sticks that are ferried back and forth via a succession of trusted al-Qaeda couriers.

But the USB stick in Storm's pocket contains more than a message. It also contains a tracker implanted by the CIA to help them find Al-Aulaki's hideout. Storm sees a young man pushing through the crowd. He's wearing a traditional Yemeni turban wrapped around his dark hair and is heading straight for Storm. It must be the courier. As he approaches, the courier speaks in a hushed voice. Color.

Green. Code words exchanged. Storm hands over a sports bag. It's full of supplies requested by Al-Aulaki, including wood briquettes, the kind used by campers to make fires. Al-Aulaki wanted hexamine briquettes, but hexamine can also be used for making explosives. So he and his spymasters decided to send him wooden ones instead. Storm then takes the USB stick out of his pocket. get this. It has the documents the Sheikh wants to see. The courier gives the USB stick a dubious glance, then he shoves it into his pocket and disappears into the crowd. As he watches the courier disappear, Storm feels breathless. He keeps thinking of the many pleasant times he spent with Al-Lawlaki, and how if the tracker does its job, he will soon be responsible for his death.

Three days later. In his motel room, Storm opens the encrypted message from Al-Aulaki on his laptop. He thanks Storm for the supplies, but says he never got the USB stick. The courier was stopped by police and had to destroy it. Fuck! The CIA will be livid at yet another failed attempt to find Al-Aulaki. storm reads the rest of the message The briquettes I need are hexamine

The ones you sent me are something else Storm frowns It's now clear that Al-Aulaki wants them for explosives Not warmth It's going to be harder to avoid supplying them to him Without endangering his cover But that's not all Al-Aulaki wants Also I heard that the New York Times

reported that Al-Qaeda in Yemen Is buying a lot of casta beans to make rice and attack the US, find me what you can on that. Storm shudders. Rycin is a toxin so deadly that a single speck can kill. His last vestiges of unease about helping the CIA assassinate his former friend dissolve. Al-Aulahi seems hell-bent on killing innocent people in the name of his religion. Storm has to find a way to stop him.

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In the last episode, Storm found a new one. wife for Anwar al-Aulaki. But when a plan to use her to locate Al-Aulaki failed, the CIA lost trust in storm. But now, the CIA have offered him $5 million if he can find a new way to lead them to the jihadi preacher. This is episode three of the spy who lived inside al-Qaeda, disposable hero. September 2011, Zanah, Yemen. In his home in Yemen's capital city, one of Storm's jihadi contacts is cleaning his pistol when his mobile phone rings.

Yeah. I'm ready to collect. Where? The moor car park. 30 minutes. The jihadi opens a desk drawer and picks up the USB stick Mawson's storm entrusted to him and heads out the door. 30 minutes later.

The jihadi stands in a shopping mall car park, leaning against his car while texting a message to Storm. The guy just called and waiting for him now. Storm is no longer in Yemen. He returned to Europe a couple of weeks ago to spend time with his children during the school holidays. But before leaving, Storm asked this jihadi to deliver a USB stick to a courier.

who could get it to Al-Lawaki. A battered, dusty Toyota Highluck's truck pulls into the car park. The jihadi stands up and puts his phone away. A man in tribal clothes gets out of the Toyota and approaches him. I'm here to collect. You know where to take it? Yeah, I'll get it there.

The man takes the USB stick and gets back in his truck. As it leaves the car park, the jihadi texts Storm again. Pick up, maid. At his home in Europe, Storm is packing for an expedition into the jungles of Borneo. When he's not spying, he now runs a survival training business that also provides a useful cover for his regular travel in and out of Yemen. His phone pings with a text message confirmation that the USB stick he left with his contact in Yemen is now on its way to

al-Aulaki. He forwards the message to his Danish handler Clang so he can let the CIA know. Storm smiles as he gets back to packing. He imagines that in some CIA office, groups of men and women will soon be using satellites to track the couriers taking his USB stick to Al-Aulaki. And then, he imagines the $5 million payday that will follow. A few weeks later, Birmingham, England. Storm slumps onto the lounge chair in his living room and reaches for the TV remote. He got back from Borneo a few days earlier, but he still feels jet lagged and wants to relax in front of the TV for an hour or so. Our main story again, US-born radical Islamist cleric, Anwar al-Aulaki, a key al-Qaeda leader, has been killed in a drone strike in Yemen.

as officials announced the news earlier today. Storm sags in his chair. Photos of Al-Aulaki fill the screen with his round glasses and neatly trimmed beard. Storm feels sick as the photos are placed with another image, the image of a scorched skeleton of a car in the Yemeni desert. He knows Al-Aulaki was dangerous, but right now, all he can remember are the moments of friendship they shared.

The jokes, the kindness Al-Aulaki showed his. his son and his magnetic personality. Storm's phone vibrates in his pocket. It's clang. Have you seen the news? Yeah, just now. Can't believe it. Good for you, though, my friend.

I'm calling the Americans. We'll speak later. Storm remembers he's now due a $5 million reward for helping the CIA find Al Al-Aulaki. The thrill of such wealth mixes uneasily with his guilt at profiting from his friend's death. He thinks of praying for forgiveness, but shakes it off. He's an atheist now.

Klang calls back. Morton, um, sorry, I got ahead of myself. It wasn't us. Storm is almost relieved. He knew he wasn't the only agent tasked with locating Al-Aulaki. It's fine. Tell Jed and the Americans, well done. I will.

Two days later, Birmingham. In his local convenience store, Storm picks up a copy of the Sunday Telegraph while waiting in line to pay for his milk and bread. There's a large photo of Al-Aulaki on the front page. The headline reads, How America finally caught up with Anwar Al-Aulaki. Storm's eyes narrow as he reads how the breakthroughs. came, when the CIA caught one of Al-Aulaki's couriers three weeks ago. Storm retrieves his phone from his pocket and checks his messages.

Three weeks ago, that was when his contact in Yemen texted to say the USB stick had been collected by Al-Aulaki's courier. The shopkeeper smiles at Storm. Morning, sir. How are you today? Fine. Taken aback. The shopkeeper hurriedly processes his payment.

but Storm's blood is boiling, and he can't control it. It's too much of a coincidence. It has to be his tip-off that led the CIA to Al-Aulaki, but why would they lie about it? There's only one explanation. They want a weasel out of paying him. Storm grinds his teeth. How dare they?

He puts his life on the line every day, and they double-cross him. He needs that money. most of the quarter of a million dollars the CIA previously gave him has been spent on his survival training business but the business is failing to try and cope with the money troubles and the stress of living a double life he's using cocaine again

five million dollars would mean a new life one where he can stop lying and live as himself again he won't let the CIA take that from him One week later, Helsinger, Denmark. In an upscale hotel, Storm prowls the marble floor of the lobby like a caged tiger. His Danish handler, Clang, enters. There's a somber expression on his face. Storm follows him outside and to one of the hotel's beachside villas,

the one furthest away from other guests. Storm smiles grimly. They're expecting a scene. They walk in single file past the swimming pool and guests in deck chairs. Storm tries to mentally prepare. He's starting to realize he's just as alone and vulnerable among these intelligence agencies as he is among the militant jihadists. Walking behind Clang, he discreetly retrieves his phone

and flicks it onto the voice record. Inside the villa, a tall man with a square jaw moves forward as Clang performs the introductions. Mawson, this is Michael from the CIA. Where's Jed? Michael assesses storm for a moment. Jed had to fly back to the States. Why don't you and I go upstairs and have a chat?

They head upstairs to the elegant sitting room where the two men eye each other like boxes across the designer coffee table. Storm breaks the silence. You're not going to convince me. I'm not here to convince you of anything. I'm just here to talk. The man you killed was a good friend of mine, but because of the evil in him,

I knew he was a threat that had to be destroyed. That's right. He had to be taken out. But what I don't understand is why you feel we cheated you over it. Who was the courier? What courier? The newspaper, it says he got him through a courier three weeks ago. That was my courier.

He picked up the USB stick that I left for Alar Lucky. I set it up. you don't even say thank you. Lord Morton, I don't know anything about a courier. Storm doesn't believe him. His anger begins to bubble insistently against the lid he's tried to put on it. I've always been honest with you guys.

Every bit of information you've ever had from my side has always been honest. I never accused you of lying. Exactly. I'm not lying. You are. You're just sitting there and lying. He shouts down so Clang and the others below can hear.

He's just sitting here and lying. The CIA man stands and buttons his suit jacket. I've had enough. Storm watches Michael stride out the door and fights the urge to rush after him and beat him up. Clang hurries upstairs. Morton, what happened? Storm clenges his fists.

He's sick of being a pawn and a web of deceit where he can't even trust his handless. Guess what? I recorded that whole conversation. Clang turns visibly pale beneath his tan. You can't. Well, I just did. And I quit. Okay, Carrie. You ready?

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at Target and Amazon. Quick, quick, quick. It's the fastest way to have fun. Four months later, January 2012, southern Yemen. In the front seat of a Toyota Land Cruiser, Morton Storm tightly grips at Kalashnikov as he's bounced over the rough desert road. Draped around his torso is an ammunition belt. Next to him, his longtime Yemeni friend Abdul sits with a grenade launcher resting on his lap. Abdul looks terrified. The car hits a bump at speed and the grenade launcher bangs on the roof hard.

Abdul cringes. Are you sure it's not going to go off? driver, a swarthy, 40-year-old veteran jihadist, slams the brakes. Oh, look, Abdul, I told you, only fires if the levers are released. They are on, on, see? It's perfectly safe. Yeah, yeah, I see, I see. Good. Storm glances at Abdul. He looks like he's seen a ghost. Storm wonders again if he is actually a CIA spy. It's only a few months since Storm's own bust-up with the CIA. After his announcement of having recorded his meeting with the CIA man,

the Danish intelligence service P.E.T cuts all ties with him. They were not just worried about the fallout with the CIA, but also politically. Danish law forbids P.E.T. from being involved in assassinations. Storm was left isolated and bereft. He missed the sense of purpose spying gave him and began using drugs again. He leans across Abdul to address the driver. They tell me you were with Sheikh Anwar when those American bastards took him from us.

The grizzled face of the driver dissolves into real grief. He blinks hard and takes a moment to reply. I was not there, brother. But I should have been. When we found them, I only knew it was him because of a single patch of skin left on his forehead. He's in paradise now.

And we will make the Khafar Pay for his death. Both Abdul and Storm Chorus the response. Allah Wahabar! Abdul still looks terrified. But Storm knows it's far too risky to ever ask Abdul about his true allegiance.

Besides, Storm needs to concentrate on his own mission. Determined to prove his worth to his estranged spy masters, Storms come up with a plan to regain their trust by finding Nasea al-Wu-Hashi. Al-Wohashi is the leader of Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula.

There is alto talk, he will soon be the appointed second-in-command of Al-Qaeda globally. Storm knows he will be a high-profile CIA target, and Storm knows people who know Al-Wu-Hashi. Klang sounded wary when Storm called him with the idea. Finally, he reluctantly agreed to fund Storm's expenses for the trip, But he refused to tell the CIA about the mission until Storm proves he can find Al-Wahashi. So now, Storm's back in Yemen to prove his plan couldn't work.

The driver, his grief now under control, interrupts Storm's musings. When we get to Yahr, keep alert. Government forces the building up in the hills near it. They'll try to retake it again soon. Storm noz. He always knew this would be his most dangerous mission yet, but he has taken aback. by the driver's next words.

Oh, and before you meet brother Al-Wahashi, he must take the oath. Storm is the only man in the car who has not sworn allegiance to al-Qaeda. Abdul looks at him intently. Storm wonders if he can avoid it. I told Sheikh Anwar I cannot condone the killing of innocence. The driver spits the cart leaves he's been chewing out of the window.

We know you'll not be asked to do so. The driver's sidelong glance holds more than a hint of suspicion at such principles. Storm knows he has no choice. In that case, I would be honoured to take the oath. The next morning, Yaa, Yemen. Storm is on the rooftop of a mosque, just outside the town of Yon. Around him rages a battle between al-Qaeda and government forces. But Storm lies on his back, staring vacantly at the sky.

All he can think of is his impending death. He left his backpack in a pickup truck filled with al-Qaeda fighters. In the backpack is a USB stick with the recording of his argument with Michael from the CIA. It's not just proof he is a foreign spy, but that he actively worked. to achieve the death of Sheikh Anwar al-Aulaki. He wonders how he could have been so stupid as to have brought it with him. But in truth, he just forgot about it. In his paranoia that Danish intelligence would try and steal it from him,

he had taken to carrying it with him wherever he went. Storm becomes dimly aware the battle has ended. He hears the sounds of the fighters returning to the mosque. If he is found like this, there will be questions asked, no matter what. He hoists himself to his feet and walks downstairs unsteadily. He tries to school his face into eagerness to hear about the battle. But if they have discovered that recording, no amount of bluff can save him. The doors open, and armed al-Qaeda fighters file in, dusty but victorious.

Among them is the grizzled driver of the car, and he's got storms, backpack in his hand. Storm feels an urgent need to vomit, but the driver smiles. Marad, you forgot this in the car. Storm takes it and hopes he has the right combination of surprise and gratitude on his face. Oh, thank you. I'll forget my head next. After 15 minutes, he nonchalantly takes his backpack upstairs to the sleeping quarters. As soon as he is alone, he checked. He checked. for the USB drive. Relief washes over him. It's in exactly the same place.

He hears footsteps and quickly rezips the bag, placing it carelessly next to his mattress. The driver appears. Come on, brother. Al Wahashi is ready to meet you. Have you? A few weeks later, Helsingur, Denmark. Storm again walks the narrow path to the self-contained hotel villa,

where six months earlier he had his explosive showdown with the CIA. He just hopes today goes better. He's here to meet with Danish intelligence and find out if he's back in the spy game. Inside, his handler, Clang, gets beers out of the minibar minibar and Hans wants a storm. Then he gets straight to business. The dragging device inside the fridge is being retested as we speak. Storm smiles. This is promising. In Yemen, Al-Wohashi told Storm he still wants the portable fridge that Al-Aulaki asked for. He clearly wants to store explosives and before

Al-Aulaki's death, the CIA planned to install a transponder inside the fridge. Now that plan is being revived, only this time to support the hunt for Al-Wu-Hashi. Clang slides an iPhone across the table. This is from our American friends. Keep it with you and on at all times. The deal is $1 million if you lead them to Al-Wahashi, plus another $2.2 million if you can also find these three senior jihadis. Storm looks at the photos and nods.

So I'm back in. with the CIA. Sort of, they don't want to deal with you directly anymore, so everything is through us. Storm sighs. He wonders what else he needs to do to regain the Americans' trust. Oh, and you need to stick with Abdul for this mission. We just think it will go smoother. Yemen's a war zone now.

It'll be difficult to travel to the tribal areas. Storm raises an eyebrow. And because Abdul works for the Americans. Clang moves to deny it, but Storm holds up a hand. Don't insult my intelligence. Clang rolls his eyes. Fine, yes, he does. But you don't know this and you definitely didn't hear it from me.

Storm feels a thrill in getting Clang, a trained intelligence officer, to confirm his suspicions. It also feels good to know he and Abdul are on the same side, even if they can never talk about it to each other. May 2012, Sanar, Yemen. Storm paces his rented apartment in Yemen's capital. In the living room sits the small squat fridge he brought with him, and hidden deep inside it is the CIA's tracking device. But now, Abdul has failed to show up.

He was supposed to contact Storm the day after he arrived in Yemen, but nobody knows where he is. Storm managed to get hold of his wife, who said Abdul's in China. Storm feels stress tightening around his throat. Something is wrong. What the hell is Abdul doing in China? He texts the phone number he got from Abdul's wife.

Abdul, I thought you were meeting me in Yemen. Why are you in China? Within a minute, Abdul's reply comes through. Come see me here. Storm frowns and texts back, insisting that they meet in Yemen. Almost as soon as he has sent the text, Storm's iPhone rings. It's Abdul. Marad, you must come here. It's important. I can't tell you over the phone.

Storm's head is ringing with questions. He tells Abdul he'll try. He calls his emergency number for Danish intelligence and explains what's happened. There's silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Morton, if you go to China, do you think you can bring Abdul back to Yemen with you? Storm senses something has gone wrong, but nobody is telling him. Yes, I can get him back. Then go, but don't take the iPhone we gave you. Storm narrows his eyes.

The most dangerous mission of his career so far is going belly up, and he's groping in the dark to understand why. The following day, March 2012. Guangzhou train station, China. Storm steps off the train into a sleek, futuristic station and a sea of Chinese commuters. For a second, he wonders how he will find Abdul, but then he spots him, dark and slight, dressed in flowing Islamic robes. As the two men embrace, Storm notices the strain on his friend's face. Abdul, what's wrong? I can't tell you yet we have our phones. It's not safe come.

A few hours later, Abdul leads Storm into a sprawling spa complex. In the changing room, they undress in front of each other. Storm knows Abdul is checking he is not wearing a wire. In a private jacuzzi room, the two men lower themselves into the bubbling water. Storm looks at Abdul waiting for an explanation. Abdul most closer to speak. I need to warn you, brother. The CIA are going to kill you along with the terrorists if you travel with me.

What? They fitted my car with a satellite transmitter. It's connected to an electronic switch under the car seat. One click means you are in the car with me. Two clicks means that we have left, Sanar. Three, that we are in the same location as the target. And four clicks that I have left you alone with the target. Storm's mind has gone blank.

Abdul grabs him by his shoulders. They would say you were a terrorist, like the others. Storm feels the cold trickle of fear. The only person who knows that he's not a jihad, but a spy is his mother. And who would listen to her? The dots start joining together in his head. The cutting of all contacts when they knew he had recorded them. The CIA refusing to meet him.

The order to work with Abdul. And the iPhone that must never be turned off. He rubs his eyes tiredly. He mustn't jump to conclusions. That's how agents get killed. First, he needs to decide. Can he trust Abdul? They are both spies who spend every day lying to everyone.

close to them. Abdule watches him with wide, scared eyes. Marat, they were going to kill you. I couldn't have your death on my conscience. That's why I left. I'm done working with the Americans, but I don't know what to do now. Abdul pulls himself out of the water and starts drying himself off. Storm's brain is racing with a hundred different scenarios. Has Abdul switched back to Al-Qaeda? Is this a way to trick him into confessing to being a spy? But then, why would he go to China to do it? He follows Abdul out of the jacuzzi. How long have you worked for the CIA? Since I was arrested in Djibouti and Somalia all those years ago, they gave me no choice. Abdul hangs his head. It all sounds plausible, but if Abdul is telling the truth,

does that mean his Danish handlers know of the plan? Is that why they told him to leave his CIA-issued iPhone in Yemen? He decides his first move has to be to challenge his handlers. Two days later, Doha, Qatar. At a hotel near the airport, Storm sits at a breakfast table with two Danish intelligence officers who've flown in to meet him. He watches their reactions as he tells them about Abdul's warning. That's obviously nonsense.

Where are the Americans? They're here, but they don't want to meet you. Look, Morton, do you think you could deliver the fridge yourself? Storm looks at them in disbelief. Suspicion flooding back. You've got to be joking. Even if Abdul hadn't said what he said, I'm not driving into a war zone by myself.

Why can't we use a courier to deliver the fridge, like we did with Al-Lawaki? The two intelligence officers look at each other. One shrugs and gets up. He takes his phone out and walks out of the room to run the idea. a year past the CIA. But when he returns, he shakes his head.

They want you to deliver it in person. Storm feels his lungs compressing. They've always used couriers in the past. Why is the CIA so insistent that he has to go himself? Unless what Abdul told him is true. Storm throws his napkin on the table and stands. I'm not comfortable doing that. With that, Storm walks out.

and wonders if he's now on the CIA's hit list. Four months later, Denmark. In a room at a waterfront hotel in Copenhagen, Storm sits while watching fishing boats barb in the harbour. Opposite him, Tommy Sheff, head of the Danish intelligence agency P.E.T. Is making small talk. But Storm knows it's a facade. He waits for the real conversation to start.

Since refusing to deliver the fridge to Al-Wahashi himself, Storm's espionage career has been cancelled. His requests for answers have been stonewalled by Danish intelligence. They then reneged on promises made to him about his post-retirement career. So he contacted the Danish newspaper, Yulans Posten. He told them he could give them the explosive true story of the CIA's hunt for Al-Aulaki. and P-E-T's role in it. The ploy worked.

Soon after, Storm got invited to lunch with chef. The spy chief fixes Storm with a level gaze. So, Morton, what is it you want? You promised I could have a training job after my active service was over. I'm afraid that won't be possible now. Why not? Let's just agree you will tell the newspaper. There is no story.

The two men stare at each other. Then Storm shakes his head. No, you've lied, and I'm done with it. I'll tell you why I'm going to tell this story, because I no longer trust that I'm safe with you or the CIA, and I want my family and everyone else to know the truth about me. Morton, we can't protect you if you break cover. Think carefully about this.

I'd advise you to do the same. Storm stalks out, leaving chef sitting alone. He is no longer a spy and the sense of freedom is intoxicating. Three months later, on October 7th, 2012, Euland's Poston published the first of several articles about Morton Storm's life as a spy. The revelations made global news.

PET's role in the assassination of Al-Aulaki caused a scandal in Denmark and prompted the Danish parliament to introduce new oversight measures on the country's intelligence service. That same year, Storm was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. In 2014, his biography, Agent Storm, was published. In 2019, the Danish state awarded him $27,000 in damages due to the PTSD caused by his spy work. The CIA, PET, and Britain's intelligence services have not confirmed or denied that Morton Storm was one of their Asians. Storm's actions have made in the target of death threats from jihadi militants, and he now lives in hiding. In 2013, a group of masked ISIS fighters in Syria released a video

in which they used Kalashnikovs to fire at photos of people on the war. Morton Storm is the first person's photo shown in the video. In summer 2016, While at a beach in Denmark with his family, five men armed with knives threatened to kill him. Four of the men were convicted in court. Anwar al-Aulaki was the first U.S. citizen to be hunted and killed without trial by the American government since the American Civil War.

In the years following his death, his video sermons helped inspire terrorist attacks including the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. The 2015 Charlie Hebdo shootings in Paris, and the 2016 nightclub shooting in Orlando. His Croatian wife Amina survived her husband and remained in contact with Storm until he outed himself as a spy in 2012. She's thought to still be in Yemen. Nasir al-Wohashi, the leader of Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula, evaded U.S. assassination attempts for years. he was eventually killed in a drone strike in June 2015.

Hassan Tabach, the lone wolf bomb plotter who revealed his plans to storm, was arrested in 2008 and jailed for seven years. Today, al-Qaeda in Yemen has lost much of its potency, but it still exists among the chaos of Yemen's brutal civil war. Yemen remains one of the world's worst humanitarian crises and one of the poorest nations in the world. Join us for the next episode, as Charlie Higson speaks with the spy behind this season, Morton Storm, will tell us what it was really like risking it all to fight the cause he once embraced. Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell?

Email your ideas to the spy who at Wondery.com. From Wondery, this is the third episode in our season, The Spy Who lived inside Al-Qaeda. 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 use various sources in our research for this season, including Agent Storm, My Life Inside Al-Qaeda and the CIA, by Morton Storm, with Paul Cruikshank and Tim Lister. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Rousa Jaffrey. Our show is produced by Bespucci,

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. Pronunciation from Recha Kierstein, Paula Richardson and Monty Cooper. Our managing producer is Jay Priest. For Vespucci, our senior producer is Ashley Clivery. Our sound designer is Iver Manly. Natalia Rodriguez is the supervising producer. Music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Frisson Sink.

Executive producers for Vespucci are Johnny Galvin and Daniel Turgan. Executive producer for Yellow Ant is Tristan Donovan. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Theodora Laudis and Marshall Louis.