The Spy Who - The Spy Who Wouldn't Lie | One Summer In Paris | 2

Episode Date: May 6, 2024

Noor Inayat Khan is back in France, eager to use her radio skills to help fight back against the Nazi occupation. But when two other agents fall into the Gestapo’s hands, she and the rest of the British spy ring in Paris find themselves being hunted down.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 1943. Douison, France. 100 miles north of Paris. In the parking lot outside the town hall, French tax officer Pierre and his wife Yvonne get into their black Citroën car. Pierre switches on the ignition and breathes a sigh of relief. Good job in there. He and Yvonne have spent the evening being interrogated by the Gestapo

after being stopped at a roadblock. But they've convinced the Nazi secret police that they're just an ordinary married couple. In fact, they are Allied spies and not married at all. Yvonne looks back towards the town hall. We're safe. It's them I worry about. When they got stopped, they had two Canadian agents in the back of their car. The Canadians had only parachuted into France two days before, and they're still being interrogated. Don't worry, Yvonne. I'm sure they've been well trained. Their French was good at least.

Yes, but a little transatlantic, don't you think? They called our car a chariot. Merde, we've got company. Pierre looks and sees a group of Gestapo officers rush out of the town hall. They stop and look around. Pierre watches them and slowly moves his hand towards the handbrake. Then, one of the Gestapo men points in their direction. There, in the citron. Pierre grabs the handbrake and slams his right foot down on the accelerator.

Stop! Stop them! Pierre focuses on the wooden barrier blocking the exit. The policeman at the guard post fumbles with the holster on his pistol before being forced to dive out of the way. The agent Citroën smashes through the barrier and accelerates into the night. In the rearview mirror, Pierre spots three cars in pursuit. Damn it! They're gaining on us! We have the Canadian's radio transmitter in the boot! What does it matter? They're already on to us, Yvonne!

No, you fool! If the Germans get their radio, they could trick London into thinking it's the Canadians sending messages. We cannot let them get it. Shit! Your weapon! Take some shots! Yvonne leans out of the passenger window and steadies her pistol, aiming for the pursuit vehicle's front tyres. Yvonne slips back into her seat to reload Damn it, I missed Pierre, another roadblock A bullet shatters the windscreen of the agent's car

Yvonne slumps forward in her seat Pierre glances across He sees the back of her blouse soaking crimson Yvonne! Pierre decides suicide's the only option now He will drive headlong into the roadblock With enough force, he hopes the car will explode Yvonne! Aaaaaah! The car strikes the barrier, but it's a glancing blow. The vehicle rolls once, then rights itself, continuing into a nearby field until, eventually, it comes to a standstill. His suicide plans failed.

A Gestapo officer hauls Pierre out of the wreckage, leaving Yvonne's motionless body in the passenger seat. Get off! Get off me, you bastards! As Pierre is dragged away, he sees another Nazi open the boot of their car. Inside, that Gestapo officer will find the Canadians' radio set.

Then he will find the crystals that set the frequency to transmit to London. And finally, he will find the logbook containing the code names and addresses of more than a dozen British agents. A chain of deadly events has been set in motion. Without some kind of miracle, it is only a matter of time until every British agent and member of the French resistance working in Paris, is arrested. From Wondery, I'm Indra Varma, and this is The Spy Who. In the last episode, Noor Anayat Khan joined the Special Operations Executive, mastered the art of encoding messages with help from Leo Marx,

and overcame the doubters to become the first female radio operator sent into Nazi-occupied France. Now she's about to connect with PROSPER, the SOE's spy network in northern France. But aided by the information in Pierre and Yvonne's logbooks, the Gestapo will soon be tracking down and arresting every agent in the network. You're listening to The Spy Who Wouldn't Lie, episode two, one Summer in Paris. Before dawn, June 17th, 1943, Loire Valley, France.

In the early hours of the morning, a Lysander plane approaches a grassy field in northern France, under the light of a full moon. Inside, the SOE's newest agent, Noor Anayat Khan, braces for landing. As the plane slows to a halt, shadowy figures emerge from the darkness and approach the plane. The hatch opens and Khan peers through the opening, trying to make out the faces of the people standing around. A tall man steps towards the plane. Bienvenue en France. I'm Henri Derricourt, Air Movement Officer, F Section. Khan remembers being told about Derricourt. He's the SOE man who greets new arrivals and arranges the return flights of operatives back to England.

Derricourt looks at Khan and the other female SOE agent who was on her flight. This is it? We told London to send a radio operator, not just couriers. Kahn raises her hand. Sir, I am the radio operator. A woman radio operator? God, things must be desperate. Well, come on then. We haven't got all night.

Khan follows Derricourt away from the aircraft. He glances at her. Are you armed? I have my pistol. Bury it. Excuse me? If an SS officer finds that in your handbag, it won't matter what cover story was dreamed up for you back in Britain.

Bury it. With what? You're supposed to be resourceful. Don't you have a make-up mirror or something? Khan scoops clods of soil with her bare hands to make a shallow hole. She places her pistol in the hole, then piles the soil over it and pats it down. Derricourt watches on. Wash your hands when you reach the railway station at Angers.

Take one of the bicycles over there. Go! An hour later, as the sun rises, Kahn arrives at Angers train station and parks her bicycle. She walks onto the platform to catch the next train to Paris. Khan feels her stomach rumble, but she isn't sure how to use her counterfeit ration card and doesn't want to risk making a mistake.

Instead, she practices the password she has been instructed to say when she reaches the safe house in Paris. I have come on behalf of your friend Antoine for news about the Building Society. I have come on behalf of your friend Antoine for news about the Building Society. Kahn unfolds a map of Paris to double-check the route to the safe house. Kahn looks up to check the time and spies a man farther along the platform watching her. She realizes she must look like a tourist,

a suspicious thing to be in wartime France. She quickly folds up the map and stuffs it into her handbag and gets back to practising her password. I have come on behalf of your friend Antoine for news about the buildings. A few hours later, an apartment block on Rue Erlanger, Paris. Kahn steps into the lift and pushes the button for the eighth floor. This is the address where she has been told to report. In her left hand, Kahn holds a bunch of flowers.

She bought them that afternoon for the elderly lady she's come to meet. She's been told that this woman runs the Paris sub-circuit of Prosper, the SOE's spy network in northern France. She's rehearsed this moment in her head a thousand times. But when the door opens, there's no old woman. Instead, a young man wearing round glasses appears in the frame. Khan's mind blanks. She tries to hide the flowers behind her back.

Um, uh, I think I'm expected. The man returns her look of surprise. Are you quite sure that's right? He looks Khan up and down, weighing his options. Then, catching the fear in her eyes, he softens. Never mind. You better come in. The man steps back and allows Khan to pass. Before he shuts the door, he leans into the corridor and checks left and right.

Satisfied, he disappears inside. Kahn steps into the kitchen where a young woman leans against the stove. Kahn feels relieved to not be here alone with a strange man, but she's still worried that she's walked into some kind of trap. Bonjour, mademoiselle. The woman looks at the flowers in Kahn's hand, then, without responding, pushes past her into the living room. The man who answered the door appears in the kitchen's doorway.

My girlfriend. Don't worry about her. Have you had a long journey? Gosh, yes. It's been such a tiring day. I'm sorry to ask, but, um, can you tell me who sent you? Do they not have a message for you to give me? Khan wonders if she can trust this man, but she doesn't know what else to do. She's got no other way to contact the Prosper Network and nowhere else to go. Antoine, he sent me for news about the Building Society.

The man looks at Khan with a mixture of incredulity and astonishment. Then, after a moment, he collapses laughing. Oh, thank God! Why didn't you say so in the first place? You had me scared. Right, let's do this properly. The case is ongoing. Khan feels relief. It's the response she was told to expect.

Good, thank you. Is this your first posting? Is it that obvious? I'm sorry. I was told to expect an old woman. That's why I bought these flowers. I must look like such a fool. On the contrary, very thoughtful.

Enchantée, mademoiselle. Welcome to France. My name is Emile Garry, and I run the Paris sub-circuit. I'm the new radio operator, codename Madeleine, but my cover is that I'm a children's nurse called Jeanne-Marie, so call me by that name. The next day, Paris. Kahn strolls along a Parisian boulevard in the morning sun past busy cafes.

If it wasn't for the swastikas and signs in German, she could almost fool herself into believing that nothing's changed. Last night, Garry briefed her on the basics of the Paris sub-circuit. But now she's been shown around the city by another SOE operative, France Antelme. Antelme is a tall, handsome Mauritian in his early 40s. He walks in long strides. Kahn almost has to skip to keep pace. I forgot how huge the Louvre is. Huge, but empty. Some bright curator hid all the art in the countryside long before this lot showed up. As a baker's van passes the pair in the road, Antenne grabs her arm.

There. You see that van? A Gestapo cover. In the back, they have equipment to trace radio signals. These vans roam the streets, searching for transmissions. What happens if they find one? Five minutes into the broadcast, they'll have narrowed the search to a district. Ten minutes, they'd have the street. Within 20, they'll be banging on your door. This is why they trained you to be quick. I am quick. Good. You must broadcast fast and change location often. This is the only way you'll survive. The two agents head back to Gary's apartment.

As they approach the building's front door, an unfamiliar woman emerges and makes a beeline for Antelme. There you are. Where have you been? René, permit me to introduce you to Jeanne-Marie. Jeanne-Marie, this is René Gary, Emile's sister and my... my friend. Kahn smiles at René. How do you do? Better now I know where Antelme's been all morning. Renée picks a speck of dust from the shoulder of

Antelme's jacket. Your jacket? Will you at least let me take it to the cleaners for you before we go for dinner tomorrow? As Antelme stands awkwardly, Renée flashes a sharp, possessive look in Kahn's direction. Then the expression of amicable cordiality returns to her face. René, please, I'm working. I'll see you later. René turns to Kahn. Au revoir, Jeanne-Marie, if that is indeed your name. It's the following day, and in Grignon, 20 miles west of central Paris, France Antelme leads Kahn into a greenhouse at the National Agricultural College.

They're here to meet Gilbert Norman, the only other radio operator the SOE has in Paris. Just through here. Mind your head. The pair enter a roomy greenhouse filled with hot, exotic plants. Through the leaves, Kahn spies a man in his late twenties wearing a gardening jacket. The man looks up from the plants he's tending to. Who's there? Antelme steps forward. Don't panic, it's me, Antelme. I've brought our new recruit. Oh, splendid. Norman steps through the foliage. As he catches sight of her, Khan notices a flash of disbelief cross his face. She knows that look.

The look of surprise that she's a woman of Indian descent. Norman quickly smiles and extends his hand in greeting. I hear your radio still hasn't arrived. Typical. Never fear, you'll use mine. We'll send a message back home. What? Now?

Absolutely. It'll be a lovely surprise for HQ. Antoine reaches for the packet of cigarettes in his pocket. I'm going for a smoke. Give me a shout when you're done. Shoo, shoo, we've got this. Still, keep a lookout for us, old boy. Antoine waves absentmindedly as he leaves the greenhouse with a cigarette already hanging from his lips. Norman points at the soil that runs along the he leaves the greenhouse with a cigarette already hanging from his lips. Norman points at the soil that runs along the edge of the greenhouse, the cables buried in there.

He sweeps his arm along the ground, then up the stalk of a thick ivy. Painted it green and entwined it with the leaves. Can you see? No, actually. Precisely. Won't they be able to trace the signals here? Antoine told me never to broadcast from the same location twice. They don't typically patrol this far outside the city centre. We still need to be quick, mind you. Norman checks his watch, then pulls back an old piece of worn carpet to reveal the radio transceiver hidden in a hollow on the ground.

Khan flicks the clasps on the brown leather suitcase and opens the lid to reveal a dashboard of wires, transistors and the key used to tap out Morse. She looks relieved. A B2, same model as mine. Solid as a tank, the B2. Transmits and receives all in one. This one's already connected to a fixed aerial.

You just need this. Norman passes Kahn a receiver crystal. It's a tiny circuit containing a crystalline mineral that sets the broadcast frequency and it plugs into the radio transmitter like a fuse. Kahn inserts the crystal, steadies her hands and thinks back to her training in England with Leo Marx.

No monkey left behind. What's that? Oh, nothing. Hello. They've picked up your signal. What? Really? Maybe they have, maybe they haven't. Point is, you have seven minutes till you're carted off to Düsseldorf.

Kahn works quickly, occasionally wiping the sweat from her palms on her trousers. Norman can see she is practiced and accurate. Still, he wants to maintain the pressure. He checks his watch. The detector van has narrowed your position to a one-mile radius. Three minutes till impact. God, can you not? Ah! You made me make a mistake. No, I didn't. Start the line again. They're turning onto the street. Khan taps out the final few letters of her message,

then yanks out the crystal, closes the suitcase and pulls the carpet back over the transmitter. Room for improvement. But not much, I'll give you that. No sign of Antel, so it looks like we've got away with it. As the two radio operators leave the greenhouse, Khan can't help but go over the message she has just sent, hunting for errors. For the first time, she feels the true burden of her mission weighing on her shoulders.

June 20th, 1943. The offices of the Special Operations Executive, Baker Street, London. Leo Marks enters the office of Maurice Buckmaster, the head of the SOE's French section, brandishing a piece of paper. Sir, we have Noor-Nayat Khan's first transmission. Already? Blimey, that was quick. We haven't even airdropped her radio yet. She used Norman's, and she's done us proud.

Her message is flawless. She remembered all the security checks. Every one. I knew it. Now we just need her not to show her radio to any passing gendarme and she might just get away with it. It's five days later. At the National Agricultural College in Grignon, Kahn approaches the greenhouse. She's here to meet Norman and practice sending more transmissions. There's no answer. Hello? Norman? Is anyone there?

She peers through the foliage. It's quiet inside. There's nobody here. Khan checks the soil hiding the aerial hasn't been disturbed and lifts the old scrap of carpet. The radio transmitter is still there. Hmm. Strange. She sits on a wooden stool and waits for Norman's return.

After twenty or so minutes, she sees a professor walking at pace toward the greenhouse. Kahn stands as he enters. Who are you? What do you want? The professor looks taken aback. He wasn't expecting anyone to be here. Are you the one they call Madeline? Perhaps. I teach here. I am a friend. You must help me.

They've arrested Norman. What? And 18 others besides. Disaster. They must have someone on the inside. If anyone talks, they'll come here next. The professor nods toward the carpet on the ground that hides the radio transmitter. Help me bury it. Khan grabs a spade resting in the corner of the plot.

At the rear of a patch of lettuces, she begins to dig at the soft earth. Grab the radio, Professor. Will that be deep enough? It'll have to do. Here, you take over. I need to go warn the others. Khan pushes past the Professor, woozy with adrenaline. The Nazis have Norman. She wonders if they already have Garry, Antelme and René too. It's a week later, and Kahn cycling through the streets back towards the National Agricultural College in Grignon. She spent the past few days laying low, as have Antelme, Garry and the rest of the Prosper Network's Paris sub-circuit. But with the head of the entire Prosper Network among those in custody, the need to alert

London is now unavoidable. So Carnes decided to return to the college to check the radio transmitter still buried among the lettuces. And if it is, she plans to use it to inform London of the arrests. But she knows if the transmitter's gone, there's a good chance that the Germans will be using it to pose as Norman and transmit false messages to the SOE. Kahn rounds a corner and skids to a halt. Nazi soldiers are swarming around the agricultural college.

Some are peering through the windows of the greenhouse. In the park across the street, dozens of students are being held at gunpoint. She sees an officer violently single out several students. The officer gestures towards the nearby woods. Armed soldiers march the selected students into the trees. The officer stays behind. He seems to be animatedly explaining something to the young people, or perhaps threatening them. Khan flinches at the sound of gunfire from the woods. A German soldier looks in Khan's direction. She lowers her head and wheels her bicycle around to return the way she came.

She'll have to find another way to alert London. That evening, Kahn meets with other members of the Prosper network at the apartment of Robert Giole in central Paris. Giole is a civil servant and member of the French resistance. Until Kahn and her fellow agents can figure out how they've been compromised, his apartment is one of the only places where they think they'll be safe. France Antenne shakes his head as Kahn finishes recounting what she saw at the agricultural

college. And you saw the students being shot? Not quite, but I did see some of them being led into the woods. Then the shots rang out. I'm not so sure. It might have been a ploy to scare the others into giving up some names, but if not, you just witnessed a war crime. Gilles heads to the window and checks the street below again. The fact is that you are both still free. It's a good sign, no? Ardell furrows his brow. We can't relax. They've arrested the operatives who made our fake IDs. is that you are both still free. It's a good sign, no? Ardell furrows his brow. We can't relax. They've arrested the operatives who made our fake IDs. There's a good chance the Gestapo has our names and descriptions.

Mine, at least. Kahn looks at her mentor with a mixture of affection and fear. Then you must leave. The risks are too great. I'm loathe to admit it, but you may be right. There's a full moon in a few days. I could get the return flight to England. Kahn sits forward.

Take it. I'll see you off. You are sweet, but it's too risky for you. Unless you go back with me. No. Even if the Nazis know about all of you, they don't have my real name or description. They don't know my address. I've only just got here.

Besides, if I leave, we will have no radio operators in Paris. Well, they did manage to airdrop your radio, at least. Gilles interrupts the moment. You won't have to return to the greenhouse again. I can get you some money, too. Enough to start rebuilding the circuit. Once we know the extent of the damage, at least. That settles it then. I'm staying, at least until they can send a replacement. When I get my radio, the first thing I'll do is let London know you'll be on that flight home and I'll be there to see you off. July 19th, 1943.

Aux Fargies, 30 miles outside of Paris. Noor Anayat Khan enters a grand drawing room and a stately home. By a tall window, France Antelme looks out into the countryside, lost in his thoughts. Khan's come to bid her friend and mentor goodbye. Tonight, he flies back to England. When he leaves, Khan will be one of the last active SOE agents in Paris. Her value to both the British and the Germans will increase still further, along with the risks. Hortelme turns from the window and smiles at Kahn. He strides toward her, holding out a thickly packed envelope.

Here, some money. Kahn peeks inside the envelope and is surprised to see a thick wad of notes. You already gave me more than enough. Franks won't be of any use to me in England. Besides, it isn't just for you. This will cover any costs incurred on behalf of the Paris circuit. I wish you didn't have to go.

No, the Gestapo has already visited my apartment. Antelme sees a flicker of fear cross Kahn's face. Don't worry. I burned all my papers. They found nothing. Spies. Always in a whispering huddle. René Garry enters the room unannounced.

She checks Antelme and Kahn's faces, as if she's trying to judge the emotional temperature in the room. Then she notices the fat envelope of cash in Kahn's hand. I hope you brought a leaving gift for me as well. It's not a gift, Renée. It's for Prosper. Then I'm sure Madeleine here has urgent matters to return to in Paris. Come, your car will be here soon. Before he turns to join René, Antelme squeezes Kahn's shoulder apologetically. We'll meet again.

The next day, the offices of the SOE, Baker Street, London. Maurice Buckmaster, head of SO.'s French section, looks up from his desk. Come in. Buckmaster's assistant, Vera Atkins, enters the room. Buckmaster is taken aback at how frustrated she looks. What's with you, Atkins? You have the look of my wife when I'm in enormous trouble. We've just had word. Ponce-Anton's Lysander landed safely in Sussex. Splendid! Noor-Uniyat Khan wasn't on board. Ah, I told her to return, but she refused. Not until we send a replacement, she said. Atkins can barely contain her anger. She's already had to inform the families of several agents posted in Paris that their loved ones have been captured. Even though she is not much older than Khan, Atkins feels motherly concern for her agent.

Morris, the Paris sub-circuit is compromised. She's the last radio operator left there, for God's sake. She sends a message and every signal-finding van in the city will round on her. I know that. I've told her to avoid sending any transmissions. She's a canny girl. With any luck, she might even be able to keep the circuit going. The risks! Calm yourself, Atkins. We're parachuting someone in tomorrow.

A senior officer. He'll assess the damage. So long as Khan keeps her head down till we have a plan, she'll be fine. I hope to God you're Right. Later that day, Gestapo headquarters Paris. In an interrogation room, SOE agent and the former keeper of the agricultural school's greenhouse radio station, Gilbert Norman, strains at the ropes that tie him to a chair. He shudders as the prisoner in the adjacent room cries out in pain. Norman's been held captive here for several days. Every time he falls asleep, the Gestapo move him to a new cell to keep him awake. It's getting harder to concentrate and he can feel his heart

pounding in his chest. And now he's about to be interrogated again. Norman looks up as a Gestapo officer enters the room with a glass of water in his hand. The interrogator sits opposite Norman and puts the glass down on the table. Please, let me rest. I can't think straight. Mr. Norman, I have a comfortable bed already made up for you. Clean sheets, deep pillows. You can sleep for as long as you like, just as soon as you tell us what we want to know. I already told you, I have never heard of a Madeline. Please, can I at least have a drink? I'm so, so thirsty.

The Gestapo officer slides the glass of water halfway across the table toward Norman. Think, Mr Norman. Madeline, a young woman, good with a radio. Even if you don't know her name, who could forget a girl like that? Why don't we start with a description? Then you can have some of this cool water. What do you say? Norman can't take his eyes off the glass. It's been two days since he last drank anything. What do you say? some broad details. Not enough to sell her out, but just enough to earn a drink and secure his

own survival. There is someone. Go on. She is in her thirties, blonde. I only met her once. Her name, Mr. Norman. Norman feels his stomach clench with guilt. I don't... Here's the thing. Your colleague next door, he already gave us everything. We had to break his arm first, but he talked. The problem is, we need you to confirm that he's telling the truth. What? If what you tell me matches what he told me earlier, then it is all, how might you Brits say, hunky-dory? But if there is a discrepancy... Well now, he has other things we can break. Norman slumps forward. He is trapped, forced to choose between two fellow agents.

At least Khan still has a chance to get away. Jeanne-Marie. Madeleine's her codename. She goes by the name Jeanne-Marie. I don't know her real name. And? She's of Indian extraction. I don't know where she is living.

We don't share that kind of information for precisely this reason. She is blonde. That part was true. At least she was blonde when I met her. The water. The water, please. With a sharp nod, the Gestapo officer slides the glass to within reach of Norman's lips.

His arms still bound to the sides of the chair, Norman slurps from the glass on the table like a cat lapping at a saucer of milk. The officer leaves the interrogation room without saying another word. Whether or not Norman's colleague gave up Kahn's information first, the Nazis now have the name and description they need to begin hunting Britain's last remaining radio operator in Paris. The net is closing on Khan. Buy Who early and ad-free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. From Wondery. This is the second episode in our series, The Spy Who Wouldn't Lie.

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 Spy Princess by Shrabani Basu. 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 Marina Watson. Our managing producer is Jay Priest. For Vespucci, our senior producer is Natalia Rodriguez and our sound designer is Matt Peaty. Thomas Curespucci, our senior producer is Natalia Rodriguez and our sound designer is Matt Peaty. Thomas Currie 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, Jessica Radburn and Marshall Louis.