The Spy Who - The Spy Who Started the Cold War | Los Alamos | 2

Episode Date: September 24, 2024

Fuchs’ plan to feed secrets to the Soviets is in jeopardy. The atomic bomb project is closely guarded. That means little contact with the outside world, especially his handlers.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. Union Station, Washington, D.C. Klaus Fuchs steps off the train and onto the platform. With him are the other atomic scientists sent from Britain to work on America's Manhattan Project. The UK is ahead of the US in working out how to enrich uranium for use in an atom bomb. But in order to get the bomb built quicker, Britain's agreed to loan its atomic scientists to America. They arrived in the US this morning after more than two weeks at sea. Now they're being taken to a security briefing with the head of the Manhattan Project, General Leslie Groves.

As the group walks through the streets of D.C., Fuchs is amazed to see a pyramid of oranges on display in the store window. After years of wartime rationing in Britain, the abundance of food is almost shocking. Fuchs's friend and boss, Rudolf Peels, smiles. The war seems far away here, doesn't it? I can't remember the last time I saw fresh oranges. There is no rationing here? No. They're also going to pay us better too. The group's escort leads Fuchs and the other scientists into a vast government building. They head down the long corridors until they reach an airy conference room. The door opens and General Grove strides to the wooden lectern at the front. He's a large man, but his girth is rigidly buttoned and belted into his military uniform.

Good afternoon, gentlemen. While Dr Robert Oppenheimer leads the science on this project, it is my responsibility to make sure we build this bomb before Hitler does. And that's why security is my number one priority. Groves glares at the scientists. On this project, we work under compartmentalisation. You are all working on the diffusion plant in Manhattan. You are here for one reason only,

to find a way to enrich uranium for use in a bomb. You will not have contact with or know the location of any of the other facilities or scientists involved in this project. You will not tell friends, family or anyone outside of your immediate team about your work. Is that clear? Peels raises his hand. Groves reluctantly nods permission for the question General, science works best when there is collaboration of ideas This approach will slow us down I've heard this many times, not least from Dr Oppenheimer But on this project, security takes precedence over all else

But General, we have all been security cleared. You've been security cleared by the British, not by me. But while you are in the United States of America, you are subject to our laws. Here, the penalty for spying or passing on top secret information is the electric chair. Is that clear? Fuchs nods along with the other British scientists. But Grove's talk of compartmentalization worries him. Without access to the wider Manhattan Project, he'll only be able to give the Soviets a small glimpse into America's progress

in building its nuclear superweapon. And if his attempts to learn more go wrong, he's going to wind up on the electric chair. So, get this. The Ontario Liberals elected Bonnie Crombie as their new leader. Bonnie who? I just sent you her profile. Check out her place in the Hamptons. Huh, fancy. She's a big carbon tax supporter, yeah?

Oh yeah. Check out her record as mayor. Oh, get out of here. She even increased taxes in this economy. Yeah, higher taxes, carbon taxes. She sounds expensive. Bonnie Crombie and the Ontario Liberals. They just don't get it.

That'll cost you. A message from the Ontario PC Party. From Wondery, I'm Indira Varma, and this is The Spy Who. In the last episode, nuclear physicist Klaus Fuchs came to Britain to escape a Nazi crackdown on communists. Then, after joining Britain's secret atom bomb project, he began feeding nuclear secrets to the USSR. Now he's been sent to America to help the USA's Manhattan Project build the first nuclear bomb. But to continue his spying, he also needs to find a safe way to reconnect with his Soviet spymasters.

You're listening to The Spy Who Started the Cold War. This is Episode 2, Los Alamos. Christmas 1943, Cambridge, Massachusetts. In the spacious living room of a suburban house, Fuchs smiles as his younger sister, Crystal, emerges from the kitchen with two drinks in her hands. She's a handsome 30-year-old

with dark hair. There you go. Glühwein, just like we used to have in Germany. She hands a glass of spiced wine to Fuchs and looks at him fondly as she sits down opposite him. She last saw him during a stopover in Britain on her way from Germany to America.

I can't believe it's been seven years. Yes, and you're a mother now. Tell me more about how you met your husband. It was at university. He was a communist and so passionate. But now... Well, anyway, tell me, what is this science project that's brought you to America? Your letter wasn't very descriptive. Oh, I'm afraid I can't say. It's top secret. Fook stands, walking the room restlessly. He can feel his sister's eyes following him curiously. Crystal, I need to ask you for something.

What is it? A man may come here looking for me. He won't ask for me by name. He will say, I'm a friend of Max, and you will need to reply, I heard that Max has had twins Klaus what have you got yourself into? it's better you do not know

but it is important wouldn't ask otherwise Crystal gathers up the glasses and heads to the kitchen Fuchs follows her it's a last resort, I promise. Crystal concentrates on the washing up as she replies. Fine, but tell this man not to come if Robert is home. He cannot know about this. Fuchs feels uncomfortable. Using his sister in this way seemed convenient back in England.

Now he realises he's putting Crystal and her family in a dangerous position. January 1944, London. Counter-subversion officer David Clark walks through the corridors of MI5's headquarters. In his hand, he holds a thin file with the name Klaus Fuchs on the front. Clark's irritation rises with each step. There's a war on, and he's doing security checks on bespectacled scientists. He reaches the office of security Liaison Officer Major Garrett. Enter.

Major, I've assessed Dr. Fuchs' file as requested. And? I do not regard him as much of a security risk. He has some communist links, but so do many German refugees. Major Garrett grimaces. What kind of communist links, but so do many German refugees. Major Garrett grimaces. What kind of communist links? The Americans want detailed assurances on him.

Clark rolls his eyes. It's all a bit thin. Seen at parties with known communists, expressed views while in an internment camp, that kind of thing. The police in Birmingham report no concerns about his behaviour. Neither Clark nor Garrett have been told what Fuchs is doing in America. All they know is it's scientific research of a most secret nature for the war. Garrett takes the file and reads through it himself.

His file seems to have passed through an awful lot of hands. Who's taking the lead on it? Good question. It landed on my desk because he's got British citizenship now. Not quite sure how that happened. Clark glances at the wall clock and wonders how long this will take It's almost lunchtime He's safer over there than here, sir How so?

Well, he won't be near any of his communist friends And it'll be much harder for him to make contact with other communists out there That's quite an assumption, Clark I think we have to take a view on this You said he's vital to the scientific work out there. I'm not sure there's enough here to justify recalling him. Garrett closes the file and hands it back. Yes, I suppose you're right. Probably best if we don't mention Fuchs's communist proclivities to the Americans. They lose all

sense of proportion whenever communism is mentioned. Clark is already halfway out the door. Quite agree, sir. Well, if that's everything. Yes. Thank you. Clark heads for the canteen with a satisfied smile. That's another task off his desk. One month later, Lower East Side, Manhattan. Fuchs emerges from East Broadway subway station into the wintry afternoon chill. He pushes up the collar of his long tweed overcoat as he walks. He feels conspicuous in this run-down area, not just because of his smart hat and coat,

but because he's carrying a tennis ball. He turns the corner and heads towards the Henry Street settlement. As he approaches the red brick building, he notices a short, stocky man with sleepy-looking eyes and a colourful tie. The man's wearing gloves, but also carrying a second pair. On seeing the tennis ball in Fuchs's hand, the man crosses the road and walks towards him. Excuse me, could you tell me the way to Chinatown? I think Chinatown closes at five o'clock. The man smiles and Fuchs tucks the tennis ball into his pocket.

He has just found his new Soviet handler. Hi Klaus, I'm Raymond. Let's go for dinner. As they walk, Raymond repeatedly checks behind them. Fuchs is appalled. What are you doing? You'll draw attention. I will? Oh, sorry. Fuchs realises that Raymond is not a trained intelligence officer. They stop outside a distinctive green and white steakhouse. Here we are.

Fox's irritation rises again as they enter the crowded restaurant. He waits until they are seated with menus in front of them. Raymond, I don't think this is a good place to talk. It is far too crowded. Raymond looks crestfallen. It is? Oh, I'll find somewhere better next time. Fuchs insists on waiting until they've eaten and are back walking the streets before talking about his work. We are undertaking atomic research. Specifically, how to enrich uranium by gaseous diffusion.

Wouldn't thermal diffusion be a better option? Fuchs looks at Raymond with more interest. He is obviously a scientist. Maybe his new handler isn't so useless after all. But Fuchs still feels the need to put some rules in place. Here is how this is going to work. From now on, we must never meet in the same place twice. The best time to meet is Fridays. You must never wait for me longer than five minutes.

Yes, fine, absolutely. Fuchs is still worried about Raymond, but at least he's re-established contact with the Soviets and can now start supplying them with the Manhattan Project's atomic secrets. Six months later, Washington, D.C. In the Shoreham Hotel, Fuchs' boss, Rudolf Peels, is meeting with James Chadwick, head of the British scientific mission. James, please! I need Klaus to come with me to Los Alamos. His mathematical abilities are vital for our work.

The work of the British scientists in Manhattan is almost complete. But instead of going home, Peels is joining Robert Oppenheimer's team in New Mexico to help finalise construction of the bomb. He wants Fuchs to go with him. But Chadwick has other plans. Absolutely not. The war's coming to an end. I need Fuchs to resume our atomic energy research in Britain.

The war isn't over. Hitler might still be building an atomic bomb. If he builds it before us, we will lose this war. But we won't have a bomb if we don't solve the problem of implosion. And to solve that, I need Klaus. I'm sure the Americans can find other mathematicians to help you model the implosion. But Fuchs is the only scientist I have who can set up our uranium low-separation plant. His work here is done.

Peels bangs Chadwick's desk in frustration. Your low-separation plant will never happen, James. You know as well as I do that the Americans have no intention of sharing the science with us Churchill surrendered control over what is shared just to get a bomb built America does not want Britain to become a nuclear power I need Fuchs in Los Alamos The two scientists glare at each other, neither willing to back down. One month later, August 1944.

Outside the Brooklyn Museum of Art, Harry Gold sits on a bench and checks his watch. Gold is the Soviet agent that Fuchs knows as Raymond. He's a chemical engineer who began supplying the Soviets with industrial secrets before the war. And he misses those simpler days. He checks his watch again. Fuchs was supposed to be here 30 minutes ago. Gold feels the nervous flutter of worry. He understands just enough of the information Fuchs has given him in previous meetings

to know how dangerous this mission is. If Fuchs has been caught, then the FBI could be watching him. He decides to leave. Taxi? As the taxi drives off Gold realises he has no idea where Fuchs lives and no way of finding out what happened to him. He wonders how he's going to explain to the Soviets that he's just lost contact with the USSR's most important spy. It's August 1944, and in Santa Fe, New Mexico,

Klaus Fuchs is ushered out of the back of an earth-colored office building into a sweltering hot car. It's three days since he was told he was being reassigned to Camp Y, the Manhattan Project secret facility in New Mexico. He was given an hour to pack and put on the first train out of New York. Now, with his security pass in his pocket, he sits on the burning leather of the back seat

and waits as his driver loads his suitcases into the boot. All right, Dr. Fuchs, the research site is about 45 miles away, but it's a beautiful drive. In the rearview mirror, the driver gives him a friendly smile. But Fuchs notices that he looks at him just a little too long, as if trying to commit his face to memory. The sun-dried mud brick buildings of Santa Fe give way to the parched scrub and huge sky of the surrounding desert. It's a landscape unlike any Fuchs has seen before. After crossing the Rio Grande, the road climbs through jagged sandstone canyons.

But even as he admires the scenery, Fuchs notices his driver watching him in the rear-view mirror. On being caught looking, the driver smiles again. Nearly there. They reach a large plateau where the wild landscape is marred by a hastily assembled town. Fuchs stares at the massive army huts, prefab houses, barbed wire and guard towers. That's Camp Y. Yep, but folks here call it Los Alamos.

The driver pulls up at the small weatherboard guard post that marks the entrance. Pass this, please. Once past the guard post, the driver stops on one of Los Alamos' makeshift streets. Rudolf Peels emerges from one of the nearby prefabs, followed by his wife, Zhenya, and their young children. Peels embraces Fuchs. At last! You're here! This place is huge. While shepherding her children, Zhenya rolls her eyes at Fuchs.

Looks big, but feels small. Too small sometimes. Pils grins. Ah, but there's no compartmentalization here. We can work freely at last. Can't leave freely, though. Only one visit a month to the town, and even then you have to use the army taxi unless you have a car. I should get a car, then. If you do, you'll

be very popular. As Peels leads him to his new lodgings, Fuchs takes the opportunity to ask the most pressing thing on his mind. How to make contact with the outside world. My sister will be worried.

I wasn't allowed to tell her I was leaving. Can we send letters from here? Yes. There's a postbox in Santa Fe where all the mail is directed. They read it all, of course. This is where you'll be living. Settle in.

I'll be round later. As Peels leaves, Fuchs steps inside his bachelor quarters. He's now in the heart of the Manhattan Project with all its nuclear secrets to hand. But it's already clear that smuggling those secrets off the base and into Soviet hands will be a major challenge. A few weeks later, Manhattan. In a bookstall near Fuchs' apartment, Harry Gold buys a book by a German novelist. Once away from the bookstore,

Gold writes in the inside cover, Klaus Fuchs, 128 West 77th Street. Fuchs has missed his last two meetings, so Gold's Soviet handler located Fuchs's apartment and told him to check it out. Gold crosses the road to the Brownstone apartment building. He's relieved to see the name Dr. Fuchs beside the door and presses the buzzer. The door opens, but it's the janitor, not Fuchs. Yeah? I'm a friend of Dr. Fuchs.

I want to return a book he loaned me. Ah, sorry, buddy. He doesn't live here anymore. Left in a hurry. Oh, I see. Thank you. Gold hurries away. He needs to contact his Soviet spy master at once. He can think of only two reasons why Fuchs would disappear without warning. Either he's been arrested, or he's done a runner, and both spell trouble. December 1944, Los Alamos. In his room, Fuchs is at his desk copying atomic secrets by hand. Next door, his useful neighbor, Professor Richard Feynman,

plays the bongos. It's been four months since Fuchs arrived at Los Alamos and he's enjoying it. He's surrounded by top-tier scientists and has unrestricted access to the world's most valuable nuclear secrets. But he still hasn't found a safe way to contact his Soviet spymasters. Fuchs quickly hides the documents he's been copying under his mattress, then opens the door.

His neighbour, Feynman, is on the other side with a lopsided grin on his face. Klaus, my dear friend. Might I borrow your car again this afternoon? Yes, of course. Let me find the keys. Come in. How's your wife? Feynman is the Joker of Los Alamos. But Fuchs also knows he hides a tragic secret. His wife and high school sweetheart is in a nearby hospital dying of tuberculosis.

Feynman throws himself on the bed while Fuchs hunts for his keys. Grumpy. She demands I smuggle in chocolate to help her cope with the terrible hospital food. That matron sounds like General Groves. Ah, here they are. Fuchs throws the keys to Feynman. He quickly sits up and catches them with one hand. Fuchs breaks into a rare smile as Feynman leaps into a perfect imitation of Groves. Nazi spies are lurking everywhere, gentlemen. Be alert. Don't talk to each other. Wonder which of us he suspects of being the spy.

Alas, my friend, you are far too German and your spectacle's far too large. What about you? Do you keep asking for special permission to go to Albuquerque? Ah, yes, you're right. The sick wife is a clever ruse. Well, I'm off to see my spymaster. Thanks for the car. Fuchs listens to Feynman's footsteps fade before getting back to copying Los Alamos' secrets.

And he's just had an idea for how to get them to the Soviets by asking for permission to visit his sister, Crystal. One month later, January 1945, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Soviet agent Harry Gold walks slowly through the snow. His eyes are trained on the curtains of the house where Fuchs's sister lives. The curtains are half open, and that's the signal that tells him it's safe to approach. He takes the three short stairs that lead to the front door and presses the doorbell. Gold was last here in the autumn. At the time, Crystal claimed not to know where her brother was,

but she agreed to call Gold when she next heard from him. After months of silence, she finally phoned last week with news that Fuchs was coming to visit. Crystal opens the door and ushers Gold into the living room where Fuchs is waiting. Gold almost laughs with relief, but something about Crystal's expression stops him. I'm going shopping, she stares at Fuchs. Robert will be back in a couple of hours, Fuchs nods. Crystal grabs her hat and coat and leaves. With Crystal gone, Gold turns to Fuchs.

Where the hell were you? You just disappeared. I didn't have any choice. They wouldn't let me contact anyone before I left, not even Crystal. I'm in New Mexico now. Come upstairs. Fuchs leads Gold into the spare bedroom. On the desk is a large bulging envelope with documents inside. Fuchs unfolds a document lying on top. This is a map of Santa Fe, the nearest town. My next leave is June 2nd. I will meet you here at 4pm.

Fuchs points to a bus stop on the map. He then notices Gold looking worried. What's wrong? Klaus, I've got a full-time job and Santa Fe is a 4,000-mile round trip. I don't have much vacation left. This is the only way I can get information out. I cannot meet you here again. The Americans are close to testing the bomb. We are running out of time. Fuchs spends the next hour running gold through the progress being made at Los Alamos,

including new ways to contain and control the explosion. After running through the details, Fuchs looks intently at gold blinking through his glasses. One last thing. I hear the Allies will soon take Kiel and Berlin. Looks that way. The Gestapo will have files on me being a communist. If the British or Americans get those documents, I am finished.

Moscow must get to those files first and destroy them. Gold's relief at finding Fuchs is fast turning to acute anxiety. The atom bomb is just months away from completion. They are handling the greatest secret in the world. A secret that could reshape the world order. And just as the secrets they're handling are getting bigger, so are the chances of getting caught. Spring 1945, New Mexico. Amid the cool forest canopy and rocky outcrops of the Jemez Falls,

Genia Peels and some of the other wives from Los Alamos are picnicking with their children. This place is so beautiful. The children will never want to go back to England. One wife grimaces. Our husbands won't want to go back. Tom thinks it's a scientific paradise. He wouldn't notice if I walked around the house naked. Another wife raises an eyebrow archly.

Find someone else, then. There's plenty of bachelors here. Naughty. Perhaps I'll start batting my eyelids at that lovely Klaus Fuchs. Klaus? You can't be serious. He's got the sex appeal of a kipper. He sits in a corner all night saying nothing. Zhenya smiles. She's seen this reaction to Fuchs before. Klaus is a penny in the slot, man. You need to put something in to get anything out. When you do, he's quite different. He's completely forgettable. I never remember what he looks like until I see him. Let's hope my husband thinks the same thing when he finds him in my bed.

Klaus is very principled. I won't have you terrible women corrupting him. Besides, he's working 18-hour days like the rest of them. It's only us with so much time on our hands. The laughter and smiles die. One of the wives sighs. Oh, let's just hope they've nearly finished that damn bomb so we can all go home. Two months later, June 2nd, 1945, Santa Fe.

In the welcome shade of some trees, Harry Gold sits at a bus stop pretending to read a newspaper. Its pages are full of reports about Germany's defeat. But Gold's eyes are focused on the passing cars. A Buick driven by Fuchs pulls over. Folding his paper, Gold approaches the car and slides into the passenger seat. Fuchs gets straight to business as he drives out of Santa Fe. The bomb's almost ready. They plan to test it next month. Oppenheimer has named it Trinity.

Gold gapes at Fuchs. Privately, he never thought they'd manage it. Fuchs pulls over on a deserted road in the middle of the desert. The heat haze shimmers off the road in front of them. How powerful is it? The same as 10,000 tons of TNT. The shockwave will cause damage for miles. The radiation fallout will be significant and last for many days. But it won't set the Earth's atmosphere on fire. Gold whips his head around to stare at Fuchs. What?

What do you mean by that? We thought it would create enough heat to set the atmosphere on fire, but that was a miscalculation. We're confident that won't happen. How confident? Quite confident. Fawkes ignores Gold's worried look, opens his briefcase and removes a wad of classified documents.

Here are the blueprints for Trinity. Everything Moscow needs to build it. Gold takes the documents gingerly, almost afraid to touch them. He tucks them into his own briefcase. I don't get it, though. Germany surrendered. Why are they still building it? I believe they intend to use it in the Pacific to force Japan into a quick surrender.

Where? I don't know. Gold looks out across the barren landscape and imagines a city of Japanese people unaware they are living their final days. One month later, Moscow. Igor Kurchatov, the scientific head of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme, strokes his long beard. Before him, laid out on his desk,

are the documents that Fuchs smuggled out of Los Alamos. Amazing! Of course! Use a polonium and beryllium initiator and uranium as a tamper. It's brilliant! In his excitement about the science, Kurchatov's forgotten about the other man in the room. He's Lavrentiy Beria, head of the NKVD, the Soviet Union's feared secret police.

So, this information is useful? Useful? It's invaluable. The Americans and the British have made an incredible breakthrough, and so quickly. He stops himself. Admiration for capitalist scientists is dangerous in front of this man. Which makes it a serious threat to the safety of our nation. A weapon of this magnitude would make America the most powerful nation on Earth. We must inform Stalin.

Beria raises an eyebrow. Stalin will ask why America has such a weapon and your team has not given him the same weapon. Kurchatov squirms in his seat. It was not possible before. Our budget is inadequate. The scale needed to make these breakthroughs is enormous. The Americans have many thousands of people working on it. But now you have this information from my sources, you will, no doubt, make rapid progress. Yes, certainly. Good. Then that is what we will tell Stalin. As Beria leaves, Kurchatov gulps.

If Stalin is promised rapid progress, he better deliver it. Otherwise he'll end up dead or in a Siberian labour camp. July 16th, 1945. Compania Hill, New Mexico. Fuchs watches as the first rays of dawn break over the distant hills. He takes a long drag on his cigarette as he sits on the hard ground. Nearby, his next-door neighbour, Richard Feynman, beats out a rhythm on his bongos. Some of the other scientists are taking bets.

But the festive atmosphere conceals the nervousness. Just 20 miles away, Trinity, the first atomic bomb, is about to be detonated. Over the radio, the countdown starts. The bongos and conversation stops. People lie down on their mats and put on welder's glasses to protect their eyes. Five, four, three, two, one. A flash of light blinds them. It's so bright it seems to bore into their bodies.

Fuchs raises a hand to shield his face and then lowers it in wonder as a huge, unearthly and silent globe of fire mushrooms up into the sky. Strange flashes of blue, green and red pulsate across its surface. The early morning desert chill has been replaced by a tremendous heat. Then he hears a sound like thunder as the shockwave sends a tsunami of dust, smoke and fire rushing towards them. It vibrates so loud his chest cavity feels as if it will explode. The blast was far bigger than their estimates. This weapon is a destroyer of cities.

One of the scientists near him finally speaks. Now what will happen? How will we use this? Fuchs turns away. It's too late to ask that. Eight days later, Potsdam, Germany. In a mock Tudor country house, the leaders of the USA, the UK and the USSR are deciding Germany's future. As the morning's negotiations wrap up, America's white-haired president, Harry Truman, remains at the table writing a note.

He watches as Soviet leader Joseph Stalin moves to a corner of the room with his advisers. Truman knows the Soviets are discussing his refusal to give in to their demands. But he now knows about the successful test of Trinity. America's got the bomb. He no longer needs the Soviets to defeat Japan. Truman decides it's time to strengthen his negotiating position. He rises from the table and sidles alongside the khaki-clad bulk of Stalin. Generalissimo Stalin, I wanted to let you know something.

Yes, what is it? We have a new weapon. A bomb of unusual destructive force. Truman watches for Stalin's reaction but is disappointed. The Soviet leader merely nods. Then I hope you will make good use of this bomb against Japan. Stalin walks away, followed by his entourage. One of Truman's aides approaches.

Well, sir, how did he respond? Not much of a reaction. That will change when he sees it in action, sir. But Truman feels a niggle at the corner of his mind. It's almost like he wasn't surprised at all. Impossible, sir. Security was watertight. He just didn't want to give you the satisfaction. Truman tries to shake off his doubt.

He was briefed on the security measures himself. His vision of a democratic capitalist future depends on America being the world's sole nuclear power. Stalin can't possibly know anything about the atomic bomb. Can he? Wondery Plus subscribers can binge full seasons of The Spy Who

early and ad-free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. 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'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 Judy Cooper 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 is Ivor Manley. 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.