The Spy Who - The Spy Who Started the Cold War | Enemy Alien | 1

Episode Date: September 17, 2024

It’s the 1940s. Robert Oppenheimer is creating plans for the first atomic bomb. And his colleague is stealing them. Klaus Fuchs is a traitor in Oppenheimer's ranks. A German-born physicist secretly working for the Soviet Union. Oppenheimer will change the world with science; Fuchs with espionage.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. June 1945. Los Alamos, New Mexico. In an office on a secret military base in the desert, Klaus Fuchs places a sheaf of documents into his briefcase. He's a thin 33-year-old nuclear physicist with a high hairline and wire-rimmed spectacles. As he secures the clasps, he attracts the attention of a colleague. Which girl are you meeting this time, Fuchs?

But Fuchs is too wrapped in his thoughts to notice his colleague's wisecrack. Fuchs is a German physicist who came to Britain to escape the Nazis. Now he's in America working on the Manhattan Project, the top-secret program to build the first atomic bomb. The hope is this devastating weapon will end the Second World War. Fuchs picks up his briefcase and heads for the door. Klaus? Is everything okay? Oh, sorry, I was lost in maths. We've been through this, Fuchs.

It's math. Mathematics, then. I've got a leave day to use up before the end of the month. Thought I'd visit the museum in Santa Fe. Pull my head out of the numbers for a bit. I'll be back for Oppenheimer's briefing. Fuchs heads outside and clambers into his Buick. He drives slowly through the Los Alamos complex. Dirt roads weave through a patchwork of hastily constructed wooden barracks and functional buildings.

In the distance, the Jemes Mountains rise against a clear sky. A narrow unpaved street cuts through the makeshift town. Military vehicles kick up clouds of dust as they rumble past. Residents walk briskly, soldiers idle at strategic points. Fuchs drives towards the checkpoint at the entrance to the base. As he approaches, an armed guard steps from out of his hut and waves at him to stop. Can I see your pass, please, sir? Fuchs picks his pass up from the passenger seat,

glancing at the briefcase sat in the footwell. He opens the pass and, with a warm smile, hands it to the guard through the window. Where are you headed today, sir? The guard looks at the pass, then at Fuchs, checking that the photograph matches the man in the driver's seat. Then he tilts his head and peers past Fuchs, trying to get a good look at the car's interior.

I'm going to the historical museum in Santa Fe. That a German accent? Have you been? The guard goes to reply, then stops himself. The two men lock eyes. After a moment, the guard nods toward the footwell. What's in the briefcase? Fuchs stiffens imperceptibly. Inside his briefcase

are copies of the blueprints for Trinity, the world's first atom bomb. And it's due to be tested in a few weeks. Those blueprints are the fruit of years of work by some of the world's

best scientists and a billion dollars of US military funds. If Trinity works, the world will change irrevocably, ushering in the nuclear age. But Fuchs believes a weapon of this magnitude should belong to no one single state or power. So he's decided to smuggle the blueprints out of Los Alamos and pass them to the Soviet Union. In there? Sandwiches? My lunch? Fuchs clasps and unclasps his fingers. If he is delayed for too long, he will miss his rendezvous with his Soviet handler and his chance to deliver these documents to Moscow. The guard's eyes narrow.

Fuchs's breathing becomes shallower. For if his treachery is discovered, he won't just miss his rendezvous. He will face the electric chair. From Wondery, I'm Indra Varma, and this is The Spy Who. Beneath the veneer of the everyday lurks the realm of the spy. It's a dark, dangerous world full of shadowy corners, sinister motives and corrupted morals. A place of paranoia and infiltration, sabotage and manipulation. In this season, we access the files on Klaus Fuchs,

a man with a claim to be the greatest spy in history. He was a brilliant nuclear physicist who worked alongside J. Robert Oppenheimer to create the first atomic bomb. But he was also a Soviet agent on a world-changing mission to ensure that the USA wouldn't be the only nuclear power. And it's a mission that would change the world forever. You're listening to The Spy Who Started the Cold War.

Episode 1. Enemy Alien. February 1933. Twelve years before Fuchs tried smuggling the atom bomb blueprints out of Los Alamos, and six years before the Second World War, Kiel, Germany. Klaus Fuchs boards the train to Berlin with the morning newspaper under his arm. He's a 21-year-old mathematics student and a communist. He's heading to Berlin to meet with a group of student communists. Like him, they are united against Adolf Hitler's Nazi party,

which came to power in Germany four weeks earlier. Fuchs settles into a window seat as the train departs. He's the son of a professor of religion and an exemplary student. But his young life has also been marred by tragedy. Two years ago, his mother died by suicide, just as her mother had done before her. As Fuchs unfolds his newspaper, he notices a policeman progressing through the carriage, checking passengers' papers. Since Hitler became chancellor, he's ordered a police

crackdown on communist groups. Fuchs glances at his newspaper's front page. It shows a photograph of the German parliament, the Reichstag engulfed in flames. What? Fuchs scans the story. Arson. A communist plot. Civil liberties to be curtailed. Promises of a ruthless confrontation with communists.

Papers, please. Oh, yes, of course. Fuchs reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out his identity papers. As he does, he notices the tiny hammer and sickle badge on his lapel. If the policeman sees this communist symbol, he could be arrested. As Fuchs hands the officer his papers with his right hand he covers the badge with his left what is the reason for your visit to Berlin I research I must visit an archive there I see just don't fall in with the wrong crowd the policeman studies folks his face

folks leaves his left hand obscuring the hammer and sickle badge and tries to look relaxed. Then the officer returns his papers and walks on. It feels like a narrow escape. But it's already clear that the Nazis are going to use the Reichstag fire as grounds to round up every communist in Germany. He resolves to flee the country as soon as the opportunity arises. July 1940. In Liverpool, Klaus Fuchs is among the 1,300 men gathered on the dockside waiting to board the SS Ettrick. Fuchs came to the UK seven years ago as a refugee from Nazi persecution.

He found work at the University of Edinburgh researching nuclear physics. But with German forces threatening to invade Britain from across the English Channel, the British government has arrested and interned more than 25,000 immigrants from enemy nations, Fuchs included. Now the government is sending many of them to Canada, so that any Nazi supporters posing as refugees will be unable to cause harm. A British soldier barks at the German men lining up to board the ship. Step forward in line. Place your valuables in the crate for safekeeping. An internee just ahead of Fuchs scowls.

Damned if they're getting my watch. I've already been looted once leaving Germany. Now the English want their turn. Fuchs surveys the crowd. He sees stern-faced men rumoured to be captured sailors of German U-boats. Pro-fascist Germans crammed together with Jewish refugees. Some of those rounded up are also sick and frail and in no condition to travel across the ocean. Fuchs lowers his head as he boards the ship and approaches the British soldier. Money? Jewellery? Fuchs keeps his eyes on the wooden boards.

I have none. What's the book? A physics textbook. In the crate. Fuchs feels a surge of indignation. The British have taken his physical freedom. Now they want to curtail his mind? Now! He reluctantly throws his textbook onto the pile of watches, books and musical instruments.

The line inches forward. Fuchs follows it down the steps and into the heat and murk of the ship's bowels. It's crammed with bodies and smells like oil and disinfectant. As he ducks under a beam, looking for somewhere to sit, his eyes meet those of a man about his age. Jew or POW? Neither. One of us, then.

Interesting. I'm Hans Kahler. Pleased to meet you. Klaus. Klaus Fuchs. Listen, we communists must stick together. Wait, I never... But Kahler's already turned away, pushing through the throng and deeper into the murk. Five months later, internment camp L, Quebec, Canada. Klaus Fuchs climbs down from the stool on which he has been addressing the other captives at the internment camp. Since landing in Canada, Fuchs and his fellow communists have turned the camp into a makeshift university. They pass the time with a programme of lectures and entertainment.

And Fuchs has just given an impromptu lecture on quantum mechanics to a ragtag band of internees. As his audience wanders off, Hans Kahler approaches while clapping. Since they met on the ship, Kahler's become one of Fuchs's closest friends in the camp, bonding over their shared communist acquaintances in Germany. A wonderful lecture, Dr. Fuchs. Thank you. But I'm not sure this audience here would know if it

wasn't. Ha, true. You could have been spouting nonsense for all I know. But even if you were, they were rapt. So, have you heard the good news? You're on the priority list for release. Someone thinks you know what you're talking about, at least. You're going home. Where's that, then? Britain, of course. Seems like Churchill's finally discovered Communists aren't, generally, Nazi supporters.

Perhaps he even realised prison camps mightn't be the best place for brilliant, Hitler-hating physicists, after all. What were you researching in Edinburgh before they arrested you? Atomic physics. Theoretical stuff, to be honest. Not sure why they'd need me so urgently. Don't question it. And when we're safely back in Britain, you must visit us in London to celebrate. Who is us? Just like-minded friends.

Five months later, Lorne Road, northwest London. Colonel Simon Kramer arrives at a cocktail party, hangs up his coat and looks around the room. He's a Soviet military intelligence officer operating undercover in Britain, and he has high hopes for this party. Kramer's agent, Hans Kahler, has just returned to London from internment in Canada, and Kahler has promised to introduce him to Fuchs, a useful-sounding German physicist who works at Edinburgh University. Kramer spots Carla and walks over to him. Is Dr. Fuchs here?

I can't see him, but he'll show. I'm certain of it. Are you sure he's coming? No, but I'm optimistic. If he is as well-placed as you claim, we'll need to act now. Kramer and Carla scan the room. Suddenly, Carla grasps his sleeve. There, that's him. Come with me. Kramer looks in the direction Carla is pointing and sees a thin, bespectacled man.

He's standing alone in the corner of the room, awkwardly nursing a drink. Carla smiles broadly as he approaches, then gives Fuchs a bear hug, almost spilling his drink in the process. You came! So good to see you. Klaus, permit me to introduce you to a friend of mine, Simon Kramer. A fellow scientist, no less. How do you do?

I'll leave you two to get acquainted. Klaus, find me later. Kramer smiles warmly at Fuchs. And what is it that you do? I'm a theoretical physicist. You must work with Max Born, then. You know Max? Only by reputation.

If you are half as brilliant as him, you must be quite special. Fuchs blushes. Kramer smiles and keeps talking. I recently heard that Born is helping the British with their research into atomic energy. Trying to understand how splitting a uranium nucleus can create a powerful chain reaction that unleashes an incredible amount of energy.

My contribution is purely theoretical, still. I work closely with the Soviet Union. I'm told you are sympathetic to our cause. Theoretical, still. I work closely with the Soviet Union. I'm told you are sympathetic to our cause. Might you be willing to supply me with a report of the work I could pass along? Purely theoretical, of course. Fuchs looks uncomfortable. The USSR has a non-aggression pact with Germany.

Soviet leader Joseph Stalin and Adolf Hitler are technically allies. Passing information to the Soviets could land him back in internment, or worse. I am sympathetic, not treasonous. Stalin hates Hitler as much as we all do. He is merely waiting for his moment to strike. And I'm not asking for secrets. Just a summary of what is in the scientific journals. Fuchs considers the implications of the request. Surely producing a summary of information that is already in the public domain wouldn't break any laws. I can send you our work that is due for publication in journals.

But that is all. I am still technically an enemy alien and I have no wish to return to a camp. Excellent. Come along, that glass needs a refill. Kramer is not sure whether the publicly available information Fuchs has promised will be worth much. But he will pass it on to Moscow all the same. For if atomic energy ever shifts from the theoretical to the practical,

Fuchs may yet prove valuable to the Soviet cause. May 1941, Birmingham, England. Klaus Fuchs steps out of the taxi with his suitcase and looks at the large house that will now be his home. It's only been a few weeks since he attended the party in London, but his life's changed beyond measure. Shortly after returning to Edinburgh, he received a surprise job offer. It came from Rudolf Peels, an atomic scientist who Fuchs first met years before the war. Peels now leads a British government project investigating the potential of nuclear energy, and he wants Fuchs to be his assistant,

helping him with the theoretical physics involved. Excited by the chance to work at the forefront of atomic science, Fuchs accepted the job along with Peels' offer of lodging with him and his wife, Zhenya. Fuchs picks up his case and heads to the house. Zhenya opens the door and smiles. Klaus, I presume? Come in, come in. So lovely to meet you. As Fuchs removes his shoes, Genia notices the holes in his socks.

Oh my, that won't do. Give me your socks at once. I'll get them darned. And did they not feed you in Canada? You're as thin as a rake. Let me get some tea on. This way, this way. Genia leads Fuchs through to the spacious lounge. As she fusses around him, Fuchs takes in his surroundings. It's a warm home, comfortably furnished with heavy-laden bookshelves and a well-worn sofa. On the mantelpiece, he notices a photograph of the couple posing with their

children who have been evacuated to Canada. The house is otherwise empty. Klaus, you're here. Peels enters the lounge from his adjoining study. He has brown hair swept across a high forehead and thick glasses. His two front teeth are slightly visible beneath his top lip, like a bookish rabbit. Pills glances at Fuchs's bare feet, and a flash of confusion crosses his face. Then, as Genya moves to the kitchen, he gestures toward the sofa. Please, make yourself at home. Thank you. I am pleased to be here. The work you're doing sounds fascinating. Klaus, you have no idea. And I have not been entirely straightforward with you. Oh, we are working on atomic energy, of course, just not the kind of energy that powers factories. What then? The kind

that powers a bomb. This is classified, you understand. A national secret. Fuchs raises his eyebrows. There has been talk among nuclear physicists about the destructive potential of an atom bomb. He had no idea the work was anything but purely theoretical. Is that even possible? We've had a breakthrough. It's not only possible,

it's inevitable. But how would you contain such a thing? Surely there's a risk it could ignite the atmosphere. It would be a terrible weapon, that is certain. Even a minor nuclear explosion could wipe out central London. Then it should be stopped, not hastened. No civilized nation would use it. But there are many capable atomic scientists still living in Germany. And if Hitler acquires this bomb first... So, you see, we need to build it before that tyrant can. Fuchs stares at his hands, a chain reaction of implications and consequences setting off in his mind.

Before he can respond, Zhenya enters the lounge holding a tray laden with cups, saucers and a plate of dry cake. Anyone for tea? Three months later. Fuchs uses his umbrella to shield himself from the summer downpour as he walks through the streets of central London. A few days ago, Hitler broke his non-aggression pact with Stalin and invaded the Soviet Union.

German troops are now closing in on Moscow and Leningrad. The Soviets are now allied with Britain in the war against the Nazi regime. And for Fuchs, that changes everything. Ducking under his umbrella, Fuchs enters a side street.

In a doorway, he sees Simon Kramer, the Soviet intelligence officer he met at the party in London. On seeing Fuchs, Kramer hails a cab. Taxi! Klaus, quick, let's get out of the rain. Is this a little conspicuous? Kramer ignores Fuchs and addresses the taxi driver. Just drive around for a little, please.

We need to figure out where we're headed. So, Klaus, how have you been? I'm fine. Wet. Kramer spots the damp newspaper Fuchs has with him. Its front page is full of reports about the German invasion of the USSR. The two men lock eyes. You see, we are on the same side. Now will you help us? Vux frowns and nods gently toward the driver, astounded

by Kramer's indiscretion. Like I say, we are allies. You heard Prime Minister Churchill's speech, didn't you? We shall give whatever help we can to Russia and the Russian people. That's as good as an order. Kramer checks the rear window. Driver, do another lap, please. So, Klaus, what do you have for me? Fuchs passes Kramer a notepad. Its pages are filled with drawings and equations. What's this? Our current workings. For atomic power. For an atomic bomb.

Kramer's eyes widen. This is more than he expected. Kramer asks the cab to stop, pays the driver, and then leads Fuchs to a quiet doorway. What is in these papers? All that is necessary for your scientists to organise the production of nuclear weapons. They will need to hurry. My team at Birmingham and the practical group at Oxford have nearly finished our initial work. In less than three months, everything will move to Canada, where the bomb will be produced. Canada? What's so special about this bomb?

According to our calculations, a 10-kilo nuclear bomb is equivalent to a thousand tons of dynamite. Enough to knock down a building, then. Enough to flatten a city. Kramer looks aghast, then regains his composure thank you for bringing this to me I will get it to Moscow let's meet again as soon as you have more two months later

MI5 headquarters London two MI5 vetting officers sit opposite one another, with dozens of papers and documents spread out across the desk between them. The officers examine a sheaf of papers relating to Klaus Fuchs, who needs to be cleared for a top-secret military project he's already working on. MI5 was supposed to have reached a verdict at the start of the summer, but the understaffed and overworked spy agency has a backlog. It's taken several weeks for the vetting team to reach his case.

One of the MI5 officers pushes a report from before the war across the desk towards his colleague. It says here the Gestapo accused him of being a communist. We're relying on Gestapo intelligence now, are we? No, but when combined with the intel from Kaspar, a certain picture begins to emerge, does it not? Kaspar is an undercover MI5 agent. He reports that Fuchs is well known in London's communist circles. Kaspar's given us nothing but hearsay. Besides, Fuchs was interned with these people for months.

Of course the communists knew him. And not every anti-fascist is a communist. All of this just confirms he is what he says he is, an academic who fled Nazi persecution. The other officer looks momentarily doubtful, then glances at the teetering pile of paperwork on his desk. He stamps Fuchs's file with the word, approved. One month later, London. Approved.

One month later, London. Soviet intelligence officer Kramer steps onto a London bus. He spots Fuchs sitting by a window with an empty seat next to him. Excuse me, is anyone sitting here? Fuchs pretends to not recognize Kramer and moves his brown leather bag off the empty seat and onto his lap. The two men sit in silence as the bus sets off. Sorry, my stop. Can I get past? Fuchs stands and squeezes past Kramer, ready to disembark at the next stop.

Kramer scoots along the seat. It's still warm from Fuchs's body. As he looks nonchalantly into the London streets, Kramer runs his hand along the gap between the seat and the window until he feels the firm edge of a brown envelope stuffed with papers. Half an hour later, at the Soviet embassy, Kramer removes the classified documents from Fuchs' envelope. Each page is a scrawl of scientific calculations and complex formulae. Kramer painstakingly encrypts each line using a one-time pad,

a super-secure encryption method. A-F-T-X. The one-time pad is a collection of code keys, and each time Kramer wants to send a secret message to Moscow, he uses one of those keys to encrypt it. The receiver of that message then uses a duplicate of the same key to decrypt it. And once a code key's been used, both the sender and receiver destroy it. Because so long as the same code key isn't used twice, the encryption is impossible to crack.

Kramer finishes encrypting Fuchs' information, burns the code key in an ashtray, and begins radioing Moscow. The following day, Soviet military intelligence headquarters Moscow. At his desk, a junior officer decrypts Kramer's message from London using a duplicate of the code key. The equations he decodes are impenetrable to him. On finishing the decryption,

he tears up the one-time pad to ensure the code isn't reused. He then takes the documents to the Red Army's intelligence director, General Alexei Panfilov. Panfilov pulls over the details, shaking his head in disbelief. Sir, what does it mean? Panfilov closes his eyes. It means the British plan to build a weapon that will put humanity on the road to hell. September 1942.

Nine months after the USA entered the Second World War. Across the river from Washington, D.C., Major Leslie Groves walks the corridors of the Pentagon. This vast complex is the new headquarters of the U.S. military. Over the past year, Groves has overseen its construction. But now that work is near finished and he's been summoned by his commanding officer. Groves hopes he's about to get posted to the battlefronts of North Africa. He reaches his commanding officer's office, puffs his chest out,

and knocks. Come in. Sir, you wanted to see me? Take a seat, Major. Sir, am I to be relieved? I'm sorry, Leslie. Something has come up. A critical assignment. It comes from the President. Where to? Washington. Groves is unable to smother his disappointment. After months working as a glorified construction manager, he longed to be closer to the action. Sir, I didn't train for politics. This is something else. If you do your job right, it'll bring an end to this war. All war, perhaps. What? Oh, that thing. Groves has heard whispered talk of the atomic bomb project, but he knows little beyond the fact it's expensive and involves

overseeing the work of under-exercised scientists chalking equations on blackboards. Major, I don't know what you've heard, but you certainly don't know everything there is to know. The Manhattan Project. That's the code name. It's a world changer. If it can be done, that is. And the president is confident that you, of all people,

can get it done. When do I start? Officially? You don't. On paper, you will remain in charge of the Pentagon, but unofficially? Today's your first day, and you are now a Brigadier General. Thank you, sir. Grove salutes his CO, then leaves the room, hiding his disappointment. He will not see the front line in this war, but with a billion-dollar budget to build the ultimate bomb, his work could definitely end it. October 1942. Oxfordshire, England.

Klaus Fuchs walks down a country lane when he sees a woman approaching on a bicycle. She's in her thirties with a bob of jet black hair beneath a beret, and Fuchs recognises her immediately. Ever since his previous handler, Simon Kramer, returned to the USSR, this woman has been his Soviet contact. He only knows her by the name Sonia. And she's not just his handler. She's also his tutor in the art of espionage.

Sonia dismounts her bicycle. Good to see you, Klaus. She kisses Fuchs on the cheek. He hands her a small bunch of flowers, a prop to shore up their cover as courting lovers. Sonia slides her arm through his, and they stroll along the country lane. She has chosen the location well.

Nobody could follow them here without being spotted. How was the drive, Klaus? Did you do as I showed you? I circled the town centre twice, checking mirrors. Not too fast, not too conspicuous. Good. Remember, the goal is never to lose a tail, but to expose them. And if you're being followed, ignore the meeting. Stay calm. Lead them on a merry dance. Well remembered. So, what do you have for us? Fuchs checks over his shoulder. He sees no one, but lowers his voice all the same. We underestimated the bomb's power. Our latest calculations suggest it will be more devastating than we thought. Will it be ready before the end of 1943? Doubtful.

It may take years. Years? Have you heard how many of our people are dying in Stalingrad? We need the bomb now. Fuchs reels off an explanation, but he can tell it's impenetrable to Sonia. I have brought some updated diagrams that will explain what I mean. Fuchs goes to pass Sonia the notebook, but she gently pushes his arm away.

Not here. We will find a suitable dead drop. It will be good practice for you. Oh, yes, of course. Sonia smiles warmly. As much as I enjoy your company, the less we meet, the better. Just over a year later, November 1943. The Peels family home, Birmingham, England.

Fuchs and his boss, Rudolf Peels, are eating a dinner prepared by Peels' wife, Zhenya. It's been another long day for the two scientists. Their work on Britain's nuclear bomb project is making steady progress. Fuchs smiles across the table at his hosts. How are the children getting on in Canada? Have you heard from them? We have, actually, and we have happy news. Zhenya cannot contain her excitement. We're to be reunited with them, in America.

Fuchs lowers the fork from his open mouth. He glances quickly at Peels. But Rudolf, the project... It's fine, Klaus. The government has reached an agreement with the Americans. Our work is to be folded into their nuclear project, and we're not the only ones going. You're coming too.

What? When? I'm already approved. Zhenya and I will head out shortly. You'll join us there as soon as your paperwork is ready. But what if I'm left behind? Zhenya rests her hand gently on Fuchs's arm. Klaus, I am sure you are an essential part of the team. Peel's nods in firm agreement. Yes, and more to the point, I am the leader of the British delegation. Your presence in America is non-negotiable. Where will we live? Washington?

Of that I am not yet sure. There will be oaths to be sworn first. Then, I believe, they will tell us everything. Later that month, the Oxfordshire countryside. Fuchs is at one of his regular meetings with his Soviet handler, Sonia. He walks arm in arm with her, masquerading as lovers, while updating her on the atomic bomb project's relocation to America. It's now official. I've been approved to join the team in Manhattan. Good news, although I will be sad to say goodbye. Did Moscow tell you how I'm supposed to make contact when I reach New York?

The risks, they will be greater over there. Yes, you'll have a new contact. A man called Raymond. Where will I meet him? Outside the Henry Street settlement on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on a Saturday at 4pm. If something goes wrong, please contact my little sister, Crystal. She lives in Cambridge, Is she a friend of ours? She can be trusted. Sonia? Yes? I'm scared. I don't hate America. And I don't want to betray my colleagues.

Sonia's expression hardens. Klaus, you must always remember. Britain and America have lied. They've excluded the Soviet Union from their apocalyptic project. What kind of allies do this? They plan to keep this weapon to themselves for their own wealth and power. It is your moral and scientific obligation

to prevent that from happening. Do you understand? Fuchs looks up towards the sky. He sees a wispy cloud pass across a milky sun. Soon he will be in America at the heart of a nuclear weapons program with the power to change and maybe even end the world. But if he can't find a way to connect with his Soviet spymasters in America, all that power will belong to the US alone. seasons of The Spy Who early and ad-free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. 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've used various sources to make this series, including Trinity by Frank Close, The Spy Who Changed the World by Mike Rossiter, and Atomic Spy by Nancy Thorndyke Greenspan. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Indra Varma. Our show is produced by Vespucci with writing and story editing by Yellow Ant for Wondery.

For Yellow Ant, this episode was written by Simon Parkin and researched by Louise Byrne. Thank you. Rachel Byrne is the supervising producer. Music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Frisson Sync. Executive producers for Vespucci are Johnny Galvin and Daniel Turkin. Executive producer for Yellow Ant is Tristan Donovan. Our managing producer for Wondery is Rachel Sibley. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Chris Bourne, Morgan Jones and Marshall Louis