The Spy Who - The Spy Who Putin Poisoned | End of an Era | 1

Episode Date: October 22, 2024

When the USSR falls apart, GRU officer Sergei Skripal finds himself adrift in the new Russia, having never asked for the country's new democracy. So when he meets a shadowy wine dealer, he leaps at the chance to make some money, without a clue how the deal would lead him to Salisbury.Listen to The Spy Who ad-free on Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial by visiting wondery.com/links/the-spy-who now. 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. The following episode contains a depiction of torture and may not be suitable for all. Sunday, March 4th, 2018. Salisbury, South West England. Just after 4pm. In a patrol car, a female police sergeant and her male colleague drive through the pedestrianised city centre, siren wailing and blue lights flashing. The emergency call came in just a minute ago. A suspected drug overdose involving two people. The sergeant talks into her radio as they close in on the location. QJ, Echo Lima 7-1. We're at the Maltings and responding. Over. Sunday shoppers clear a path as the officers drive towards a lawned area

next to the river that runs through the city. The officers exit the car. An ambulance is inbound, but they are the first to reach the scene. Next to a bench, they see a young woman lying on the ground. A passer-by is trying to put her in the recovery position. On the bench is an older man, his body strangely rigid, and his eyes staring vacantly into space. A small crowd gathers.

The male officer orders the onlookers back. Can we have some space please? Everyone move back. The male officer kneels to attend to the woman on the ground. Can you tell me your name? The woman's breathing but unresponsive. The female sergeant approaches the man on the bench. He seems awake but doesn't seem to notice that she's there. Sir, can you hear me? The sergeant notices a puddle of vomit beneath the bench. If this man and woman have overdosed, the vomit might contain the highly toxic drug fentanyl and will need to be cleaned up.

But these two don't look like drug addicts to her. They're too well-dressed, and their symptoms aren't typical of an overdose. She checks the man's pockets for ID. She finds a phone and looks at the lock screen. The few words that appear look Russian. In his other pocket, she finds a wallet and a name on a credit card. Sergei Skripal. The name's unusual and unfamiliar. She knows the names of most of the local drug takers, but she's never come across this one.

She radios to the station. QJ, Echo Lima 7-1. I require a person's check. Last name, Skripal. Spelling, Sierra Kilo Romeo India Papa Alpha Lima. First name, Sergei. Spelling Sierra Echo Romeo Golf Echo India. Age not known.

Sex male. Colour icy one. Height not known. Can you check for history of drug use? Over. The paramedics arrive. As they prepare to move the two now almost lifeless figures into the ambulance, the sergeant's radio crackles into life.

Echo Lima 7-1, QJ, warning. Sergei Skripal is a don't stop. I say Skripal is a don't stop. Over. The sergeant tenses. A don't stop means this guy has something to do with the intelligence services. Right now, someone at the police station will be alerting MI5 to what's going on. Something felt off about this incident from the start.

Now, the sense that something bigger is at play is inescapable. From Wanderie, I'm Raza Jafri, and this is The Spy Who. 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 manipulation. In this season, we turn to one of the biggest spy stories of the past decade, the Salisbury poisonings. The attempted assassination of Sergei Skripal, a Russian military intelligence officer turned British agent.

In March 2018, Russian operatives poisoned him and his daughter Yulia with a dangerous nerve agent Novichok, sparking a panic in Salisbury and uniting the West against Russian President Vladimir Putin. What you're about to hear are dramatized reconstructions of events, based on the information that's been made public. But remember, in the shadowy realm of the spy, the full story is rarely clear. This is Episode 1, End of an Era. 1979, Moscow, the Soviet Union.

Outside a train station, Sergei Skripal stands in his Red Army uniform, alongside several other soldiers. He is in his late 20s, clean-shaven, with short dark hair and a boxer's physique. For the past few years, he's been a commando in Spetsnaz, Soviet special forces. He's parachuted into northern China to carry out reconnaissance and been part of assassination operations in Afghanistan. Now his covert service has been recognized with an invitation to join the GRU. The GRU is the Soviet Union's secretive military intelligence service and Spetsnaz answers to it. Its headquarters are known as the Glasshouse

and only the best get to join its ranks. Skripal and the other soldiers snap to attention as an unmarked van approaches. All of you, into the back. The van whisks them through the back streets of Moscow. When it finally stops and the doors open, Skripal and the others step out into an underground car park. A uniformed officer is waiting for them. Is this the glasshouse? The uniformed officer ignores him.

Oh, follow me. The officer leads Skripal and the other men along a dark, musty underground corridor to a darkened room. Inside, there's a film projector and two rows of wooden chairs. All sit down. The uniformed man stands in front of them. You have been selected to join the GRU. Skripal feels a surge of pride. To be a member of the GRU. Skripal feels a surge of pride. To be a member of the GRU

is a great honour. But the mood in the room is tense. The officer raises his voice. But first, you must understand what joining the GRU means. Then, you decide if you're ready to commit.

The film projector rattles into life and silent images flicker on the screen. A man tied to a stretcher with a look of pure terror on his face. The man sitting beside Skripal leans forward and whispers, Is that Penkovsky? Skripal shrugs. He knows that Oleg Penkovsky was a GRU officer who spied for the West and was executed for his treachery

but he's not sure the man in the film is him the film switches shot to show a large metal furnace with rails leading into its fiery mouth four men lift the stretcher and the man bound to it onto the rails.

The audience watch him screaming, silently, as he is pushed into the furnace. Skripal can't help himself from cursing under his breath. The projector stops, the lights are switched back on, and the GRU officer stands in front of the recruits once more. This is what happens to traitors of the GRU. Now that you understand this, you must decide whether to join. You have one minute to think it over before making your decision. Skripal rises to his feet. He doesn't need time to think.

I accept. Skripal salutes. It's the proudest moment of his life. He is now a GRU officer, one of the secret defenders of the communist revolution. Summer 1992. Moscow, Russia. It's 13 years since Skripal joined the GRU, and the Cold War is over.

The Soviet Union no longer exists. Last December, it splintered into 15 separate countries. Ukraine, Estonia, Kazakhstan, and many other parts of what was the USSR are now independent, and Russia's future is uncertain. Many of the Soviet soldiers who swore to defend the motherland are now homeless and penniless, including Skripal's own brother. It's now up to Skripal to support his extended family, but being a GRU officer no longer provides the financial security it once did.

As he walks towards the glass house's main entrance, he passes a former Red Army officer. He's desperately trying to sell his uniform and medals to some Western tourists. Soviet army uniform, a piece of history, a reminder of your trip to Russia. His sales patter is better than the woman sitting on the pavement a few feet away. She says nothing, but a few words written on a piece of cardboard tell a familiar story. Homeless and hungry. Skripal drops a coin into the empty tin in front of her and hurries into the glasshouse. The pride he once felt at stepping inside the GRU's headquarters has faded. He's not destitute, but his paychecks

are becoming more worthless every day. Inflation is running at 2,600 percent. Skripal never asked for democracy, and it's come at a price. He knocks on the door of one of his commanding officers. Enter. Yes, Comrade Skripal. Skripal, get straight to the point. General, it is with much regret that I wish to offer my resignation. But you have not yet reached retirement.

I can no longer support my family. I need to find work elsewhere. I understand your predicament, but I cannot accept your resignation. You swore allegiance and you must remain in place until retirement. The general takes a cigarette from a box on his desk, then pushes it towards Skripal as he lights up. Skripal refuses, but takes the gesture as a sign that General is willing to listen. General, my oath was to the Soviet Union. I never pledged to serve this new government of Russian Democrats.

It's harder for men like myself to make ends meet. I have a wife and two children. I want to help them make a better future for themselves. I cannot let you retire, but your country still needs you and we still value you. Maybe I can find another overseas posting for you. You always said you enjoyed your time in Malta. Perhaps somewhere else in Europe, somewhere nice like Paris or Madrid. June 1996. A restaurant in Madrid, Spain.

Spanish intelligence officer Luis uncorks a bottle of Rioja and pours some into Sergei Skripal's wine glass. Officially, Skripal's the trade attaché at the Russian embassy in Madrid. But Luis suspects he's actually a Russian intelligence officer. So Luis has befriended him by posing as a Spanish government trade official. Luis smiles as Skripal tries the wine. It's a dependable, full-bodied wine. It's easy to confuse Rioja with Bordeaux. I've no doubt there are a few restaurants where our excellent Spanish wines are being passed off as more expensive French vintages. Even the wine traders are murky on the cover side. Skripal takes a sip.

His four-year posting to Madrid ends in September. He's told Luis that he wants to start a business in Spain before returning to Moscow, and importing Spanish wine to Russia seems like a promising venture. Skripal savours the wine for a moment, then gives Luis an approving nod. It's good. So, do you know anyone in the wine trade who might be able to help me import it into Russia? I want to put things in motion before I leave. Luis smiles. He's been waiting for an opportunity like this as a first step towards recruiting Skripal.

Let me make some calls. I'm sure I can find someone who'd make a good partner for you. Madrid, the next day. In the corner of a busy cafe, Luis is sitting with a contact called Sebastian. In his early 30s, olive-skinned and dressed in a navy linen suit and pale grey shirt, Sebastian could pass for Spanish. But he's actually an officer for British Foreign Intelligence Service, MI6. British and Spanish intelligence are trusted allies, and Lewis has a proposal for Sebastian.

We suspect Skripal's Russian intelligence, and his posting ends in September. But like many Russians now, he's keen to make some extra money on the side. His plan is to import Spanish wine into Russia, but I think he's open to other, more lucrative offers. You think he might work for us? Lewis nods. Sebastian's cover is that he's a businessman from Gibraltar. But he's really here in Spain, looking to recruit agents of use to MI6.

He eyes Lewis. Why don't you want to recruit him yourself? Wine's an expensive business. Our budgets are tight, but we know that if he proves useful, you might find a way to reciprocate the introduction. A waiter arrives with a dish of deep-fried whitebait and places it between the

two men. Sebastian helps himself to one. Well, on that basis, I'd be very interested in meeting him. Sebastian swallows his whitebait and considers his next move. He needs to move swiftly. He's got less than three months to win Skripal's trust and convince him to betray his country and become a British agent. And if he makes one wrong move, he could blow his own cover and disrupt MI6's operations in Spain. Early July 1996, the Palace Hotel, Madrid. Sergei Skripal enters the dining room and looks around for Sebastian. Today will be the third time they've met since Luis introduced them just a few days ago.

Skripal sees him at a table with his back to the wall. He also notices that Sebastian's chosen a table that allows him to see everyone who comes in and out of the restaurant without being easily noticed himself. It's exactly the table Skripal would choose for a discreet meeting. He wonders if Sebastian really is just a businessman. Skripal heads over. Sebastian stands to greet him. Sergei, very good to see you. And you, Sebastian. There's an eagerness to this young man that Skripal finds endearing. He's not like other British men he's met. They

order food and begin to discuss their plans to bring Spanish wines to Russia. I've had a word with my suppliers and I can arrange a fairly steady supply of Rioja if we decide to go ahead. Do you have any idea how many bottles your potential outlets might be prepared to order? As the business chat and wine flows, Skripal relaxes. Perhaps this young man is who he says he is. But then Sebastian pulls a book from his jacket pocket and puts it on the table. I'm not very well informed about your country and I thought I should do a bit of background reading. Have you read this? Skripal's suspicions come racing back. The book is inside the aquarium.

It's a memoir of a GRU defector, a traitor to the Soviet Union who sold secrets to the West. The aquarium of the title is the GRU's headquarters, the Glass House. Skripal pours himself more wine. If this is a test, he needs to answer carefully. I've heard of this book, but I've not read it. The internal workings of the GRU are of little interest to me.

Of course, how foolish of me. Still, it's interesting as an outsider to get a little insight into the former Soviet Union. I love Tolstoy, but it's not very contemporary. No. Today's Russia is very different. Skripal watches Sebastian blush as he puts the book back in his pocket. Skripal wonders again if he's simply trying to oil the wheels of commerce or hoping to recruit him. A few weeks later, Madrid. Skripal, his wife Ludmilla, and their children, Sasha and Yulia, are enjoying a night in a flamenco club, courtesy of Sebastian. Twelve-year-old Yulia claps her hands, delighted by the music, while her 20-year-old brother sips his drink,

a little more awkward in unfamiliar company. But Skripal's new friend, Sebastian, has just got back from a visit to London, and he's returned with gifts for the family. You can unwrap them now if you want. For Ludmilla, there's perfume. For Sasha, a music CD. And Yulia gets a shiny shoulder bag, which appears to delight her as much as the music. Thank you. I love this. Skripal watches his daughter transform from eager girl to self-possessed young woman as she slips the bag over her shoulder. He smiles, happy that his family has had this chance to taste a very different life.

Then he unwraps his own present and turns it over in his hands. It's a miniature model of a quintessential English cottage, complete with thatched roof and roses climbing around the arched front door. An Englishman's home. Thank you. It's a strange gift for a grown man, but Skripal finds it oddly charming, not unlike Sebastian himself, even though he still harbours suspicions about this man. Since their last meeting, he's checked Sebastian out. His business in Gibraltar exists, and Skripal is confident that Sebastian doesn't

work for Spanish intelligence. But there's still a chance that he could be working for the British, or even the Americans. But tonight, Sebastian's playing the part of a potential business partner perfectly. Two weeks later, Parque del Retiro, Madrid. Skripal walks with Sebastian around the park's vast man-made lake. It's a hot summer's day and the park's busy. Families picnic, children play with boats on the water and couples stroll hand in hand. How is your wife, Sergei? Did she like the perfume? It's hard to buy perfume for a woman. She was very pleased with it.

Sebastian appears nervous today, and his unease only increases as he steers Skripal towards a quiet avenue of maple trees. When they're alone, the younger man stops walking. Sergei, there is something I want to ask you. Something I could not ask before with your wife and children there. Skripal is now sure that Sebastian is trying to recruit him. But why doesn't he just get on with it?

He looks around and spots a couple lying in each other's arms beneath the trees. He wonders if he's read this wrong and Sebastian's actually about to proposition him. Whatever it is, Sebastian, please say. Whatever it is, Sebastian, please say. The thing is, I have a friend who would really value some information

on what it's actually like to work inside Russia at the moment. A friend? An associate? He works for the British government. He'd be recompensed, of course. Skripal almost laughs. For a moment he wondered if this fledgling relationship might be taking another turn. But the truth is finally out.

As he suspected, Sebastian is an MI6 officer who hopes to recruit him. And Skripal has his answer ready. Other GRU officers are using their positions to grow rich in the new Russia. And President Boris Yeltsin's government does nothing to stop them. If anything, it smooths the path for them. Why should Skripal let his family continue to struggle? Besides, his allegiance was to the Soviet Union. And the Soviet Union no longer exists.

I would be willing to provide information to your friend if we can agree acceptable financial terms. And I would need guarantees. If things go wrong, would your organization protect me and my family? Of course. We will look after you. A few days later, Vauxhall, London. Inside MI6's new post-modern headquarters on the bank of the River Thames, Sebastian sits across the desk from a superior officer.

The superior officer is a professional devil's advocate. His job is to question the value of every new agent the service wants to recruit, especially now that the end of the Cold War has tightened budgets. He examines the report about Skripal that Sebastian's prepared. Why do we want more Russians? Their defection rate's almost as high as inflation over there. Skripal isn't a defector. He still works inside Russian intelligence. Nevertheless, Cold War's over. KGB's history.

What can Skripal give us that we've not already had from other sources? The KGB might have restructured, but the GRU's unchanged. There's plenty we don't know about Russian military thinking. Skripal is a senior GRU officer. He could give us unprecedented insight. Why is he willing to betray his country? He wants the money and he's disillusioned. He sees Boris Yeltsin's brave new Russia as some sort of gangster's paradise, but he knows he needs to forge a path for himself in it, whether he likes it or not. And do you think he'll come up with the goods? Yes, in my opinion. It would be a missed opportunity to pass on any intel he could give us now.

Okay. Request approved. We recruit Skripal. Ten days later, the Salamanca district, Madrid. Skripal walks out of the Russian embassy and onto the city streets. He strolls down the broad tree-lined boulevard, then makes a left turn. Next he takes a right, followed by two more, doubling back so that he is almost back where he started. He sees no sign of anyone following him and feels relief.

For inside his jacket's breast pocket, he's carrying classified information. He hopes this intel will prove his worth to MI6 but if anyone from the embassy discovered it on his person he'd be as good as dead. 30 minutes later Skripal arrives at the upscale hotel where Sebastian is staying. He sits in the reception for a moment, watching people come and go. And once he's absolutely sure that no one is watching him, he heads for the lifts.

A couple of minutes later, in his hotel suite, Sebastian opens the door and ushers Skripal inside. Sergei, can I offer you a drink? Water? Something stronger? Water is fine. Skripal sits, removes an envelope from his suit's breast pocket and hands it to Sebastian.

Sebastian unfolds the document and can hardly believe what he's seeing. It's a complete, neatly drawn chart of the organisation and command of the GRU, drawn up with all the precision of a military engineer. It details every person who works there, what they do, and who they answer to. Sergei, this is a gold dust. He smiles across the table at Skripal, who leans towards him. I have something else too. If you're looking for another agent, I have a name for you. Yuri Berlatov. Who is he? A GRU officer here in Madrid, but he's claiming expenses for non-existing agents. I am certain you could use that information to persuade him to keep you up to date on activities here in Madrid, after I return to Moscow.

Sebastian can't quite believe it. First, Skripal lays bare the inner hierarchy of the GRU. Now he's identified another GRU officer ripe for recruitment. One that Sebastian could pass over to Spanish intelligence to repay them for introducing him to Skripal. And then, together, Britain and Spain can infiltrate one of Russian intelligence's most secretive strongholds. It's September 1996, and in a Madrid hotel room, MI6 case officer Sebastian purses his lips while racking his brains for a solution to the problem now confronting him. His new agent, GRU officer Sergei Skripal, is about to return to Moscow and doesn't want to risk contact with MI6 while there.

But that leaves Skripal unable to provide new intel and collect the money MI6 promised him. Sebastian's eyes widen as an idea forms. Okay, Sergei, maybe you're right. Brush passes and dead drops are too risky. But what about holidays? If you come to Spain... No. GIU officers need special permission to leave Russia. Sebastian throws himself back in his chair in frustration.

He can't believe the intelligence goldmine he's just recruited is about to go incommunicado on him. What about your family? Does that rule apply to them too? No. Okay, okay. Do you think Ludmilla and Yulia might come to Spain on holiday? I'm sure they'll want to come back.

Ludmilla will miss the shops here and Yulia will want to keep up her Spanish. So then perhaps we can continue our arrangement. If they visit Spain, I could give them your pay. I could say it's money owed from our business partnership. That would work. But I will not send information to you via them. It's too dangerous. I have thought about this.

The risk of discovery when I'm back in Moscow is too great. Is the FSB really that strong a threat? Skripal nods. The Soviet Union's notorious secret police, the KGB, might be no more, but its successor, the FSB, still has thousands of counterintelligence officers active in Moscow. Sebastian relents. He's not going to push Skripal to take unnecessary risks. It's better to play the long game. He moves the conversation onto the changes in the Russian government following Boris Yeltsin's re-election. I'd the conversation onto the changes in the Russian government

following Boris Yeltsin's re-election. I'd like to talk about some of the new faces in the Kremlin. Let's start with the new deputy chief of the presidential staff, Vladimir Putin. What do you know about him? Not a great deal. Former KGB, I know that. I heard he was stationed in East Germany, where he went by the nickname The Hawk. If you think Putin's someone to watch, then it seems likely he will be watching back. The following month, Moscow. In a private room in an expensive restaurant, Skripal is treating his GRU colleagues to an expensive meal to celebrate his promotion to head of personnel. The new job gives Skripal knowledge of every officer the GRU has posted overseas.

It also means he's now in charge of rooting out spies inside the service. MI6 would be delighted to know this, if he could only tell them. One of his colleagues stands, shot glass in hand. To the GRU, Russia's only intelligence agency. Another colleague whispers into Skripal's ear. They should be more careful. The FSB could be listening. You think they have people among our ranks?

Maybe, maybe not. But their power is growing. Eight months later, summer 1997. Skripal's apartment in Moscow. Skripal sits at the dining table, adding notes to the margins of an old copy of Tolstoy's novel, Anna Karenina. He glances at the door to the bedroom, ready to close the book should his wife Ludmilla come in. Not that she'll see his notes, because he's writing them in invisible ink. After months of wondering how to smuggle secrets to MI6, Skripal's realized that the best method was one of the oldest.

He finishes writing and gets up, taking the book with him to the bedroom where Ludmilla's suitcases open on the bed. She's preparing to go on holiday to Spain with their daughter, Yulia. Is that all you're taking? I'm planning to do a bit of shopping in Madrid. I need room to bring things back. Then you don't mind taking this for Sebastian? He holds up a copy of Anna Karenina. Ludmilla looks confused.

What does Sebastian want with a Russian book? He can't read Russian. It's a classic Russian novel. I wanted to give Sebastian something that represents where we live in exchange for the English cottage he gave us. Ludmilla glances at the model of the cottage. It now sits on a chest of drawers in their bedroom. She takes the book and puts it in her suitcase. The year 2000, Malaga. On the balcony of an apartment overlooking the sea, Skripal relaxes

with a drink in his hand. It's been three years since Skripal began using Ludmilla's Spanish holidays to smuggle secrets to MI6. But now, following a diagnosis of diabetes, he's retired from the GRU. And that leaves him free to take foreign holidays. He gets up to answer the door. He's expecting a visit from his MI6 case officer, Sebastian. But when he opens the door he's surprised to see another man with Sebastian. Sergei, so good to see you again after so many years.

This is Stephen. Skripal invites both men in, pours them drinks and waits for Sebastian to explain Stephen's presence. I'm leaving Spain shortly myself, Sergei. Stephen is to be your new case officer. Skripal is surprised. Now that he's retired from the GRU, he's presumed his relationship with MI6 was over and this was a farewell visit. Stephen smiles at Skripal. You look surprised, but there's plenty more you can help us with. Not least, you are still well-placed to help us understand the politics of contemporary Russia.

Vladimir Putin, for example, he looks set to become president. What sort of man is he? Skripal pauses. He knows that if he answers, he's committing himself to more work for MI6 and to working with a new case officer he doesn't know. Skripal glances down at the beach, crowded with scantily clad holidaymakers. Does he really want a life of leisure when he could still be of service? He turns back to Stephen. I think the West should not be fooled by Putin. He's a product of the KGB and unhappy with the way Yeltsin's government

has allowed gangsters to pillage the motherland. If he wins the election, he's unlikely to, how do you say, cozy up to the West in the way Yeltsin has done. Four years later, Moscow. An interrogation room inside the FSB's headquarters. GRU officer turned Spanish intelligence agent Yuri Bolotov sits in a chair,

his hands on the metal table in front of him. Two guards stand either side of him, holding his forearms in place. Another stand to the side, clutching a knife. Bolotov's face is contorted with pain. His eyes screwed up tight. Slowly he opens them and then gags. In front of him on the table, he sees his own severed finger lying beside the bloody stump on his hand. He looks defiantly at his interrogator, who is seated opposite. The interrogator holds up a classified Spanish intelligence document which identifies him as one of their agents.

Then the questioning resumes. We know you became a spy for Spain while posted in Madrid. And you know what happens to traitors. But you could help yourself a little. This document says you were not the only agent in Spain. There was another. Who was it? Berlatov doesn't know what to say.

Spanish intelligence first approached him back in 1996. Somehow they knew he was claiming expenses from the GRU for agents that didn't exist. They gave him a choice, spy for Spain or have his thieving exposed. To this day, he doesn't understand how the Spanish found out, and he had no idea they had turned another Russian agent. Berlatov closes his eyes as his interrogator speaks again. Maybe we can go through the names one by one. What about Sergei Skripal? He was in Madrid at the same time as you. If it was him, tell us.

Then you might still be able to ride home from prison. Bolotov opens his eyes and looks at his interrogator. I swear, I don't know. I thought I was the only one. His interrogator leans back in his chair and turns to the guard with the knife. Take the middle with the knife. Take the middle finger this time, then we will see if he still insists he was working alone. Berlatov shuts his eyes again and tries to distance himself from what is happening.

His GRU training prepared him for exactly this type of interrogation, and he's determined not to crack. But the FSB man sitting opposite him has been trained to break men like him. It's a battle of wills and as the blood drains from his missing finger, Berlatov knows that since he has no answers to give, there's only one way this interrogation will end. Wondery Plus subscribers can binge full seasons of The Spy Who early and ad-free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. From Wondery, this is the first episode in our series,

The Spy Who Putin Poisoned. A quick note about our dialogue. We can't know everything that was said or done behind closed doors, but our scenes are written using the best available sources. Some scenes or conversations have been created for dramatic effect. We've used various sources to make this series, including The Skripal Files by Mark Urban and Spicewop by Nigel West.

To learn more about Oleg Penkovsky, the man the GRU regards as its greatest ever traitor, check out Season 5 of The Spy Who, The Spy Who Defused the Missile Crisis. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Raza Jafri. Our show is produced by Vespucci, with writing and story editing by Yellow Ant for Wondery. For Yellow Ant, this episode was written by Lizzie Enfield and researched by Louise Byrne. Our managing producer is Jay Priest. For Vespucci, our senior producers are Natalia Rodriguez and Philippa Gearing. Our sound designer, Matt Peaty. Rachel Byrne is the supervising producer. Music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Frizz and Sink. Executive producers for Vespucci are Johnny Galvin and

Daniel Turkin. Executive producer for Yellow Ant is Tristan Donovan. Our 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 Louis.