Indra Varma (25:33)
January 2002 on a British Airways flight from London To Moscow. Alex Chapman stands fully dressed in the tiny toilet cubicle waiting for a knock. He smiles and carefully opens the cubicle's folding door. Standing there is his 19 year old Russian girlfriend, Anna Kushenko. The sight of her still takes his breath away. Her long auburn hair, her heart shaped face and the slim but voluptuous body in its denim dress. You called for assistance, sir. Get in here you. He pulls her into him and slides the lock back. Before he has even finished, she has unzipped his jeans and is pushing him back onto the toilet. Ready to join the mile high club. Alex. In reply, he kisses her and slides her dress up. Alex is 21 and works in a recording studio in London. Although he went to an expensive boarding school in the shires of England, he now lives in a tiny flat in a rough part of London. He has never met anyone like Anna before. She's clever and exactly exotic. Not to mention that body and her love of sex. They met just three months ago at a rave in London, but he's fallen for her so hard he now spends all his holidays flying back and forth to Moscow with her. Excuse me, are you all right in there? Can you answer me please? Can you give us a minute? My girlfriend is sick, vomiting. I'm just helping her. Anna makes helpful vomiting noises while she and Alex laugh silently together and pull their clothes back on. Could you come out as soon as possible, please? Now dressed, Anna runs her hands through Alex's tousled mod style hair and kisses him passionately. As they break apart, he looks down at her tenderly. I loved you the first moment. Moment I met you. It's the same for me too, but we better get out of here. As they head back to their seats in the plane, hand in hand and laughing, Alex wonders if he's crazy because he's seriously contemplating asking her to become Mrs. Anna Chapman. Two months later Queens, New York in a busy restaurant in Sunnyside, Richard Murphy sits down at a table set for three people. He removes his houndstooth flat cap and checks his watch. He's a big dark haired man with a habitual frown. His New Jersey neighbors know him as a quiet guy with an interest in wildflower food photography. In reality, he's a deep cover Russian spy. The waitress approaches. Want another coffee? Yes, please. Actually, make it two. I'm waiting for someone. As the waitress moves off, the restaurant door opens and Murphy spots his contact. A lean man in his 50s with intelligent gray eyes and a suede leather jacket. He moves unhurriedly to Murphy's table and Plonks a black canvas bag on the empty chair. Murphy's lunch date is Christopher Mezos. He's also a deep cover Russian spy, but he's what the SVR calls a traveling illegal. Metzos job is to travel the world, visiting Russia's deep cover spies. He brings them cash for operational expenses, delivers sensitive instructions and offers advice. Hi, Richard. How are you? Fine, I suppose. What's the problem? Well, since you ask, my work at G7 is not what I had expected. They just don't understand my skill set. Murphy launches into a series of complaints. He's a computer technician at an international finance consultancy, but it's not going well. His wife, Cindy, who's also a deep cover spy, is on his back constantly. She's fed up with living in a cramped apartment in New Jersey with their two young daughters, but he can't afford somewhere bigger. And like all of the Russian illegals, it's down to them to earn the money they need to live. Murphy stares into his coffee. It's difficult. People don't seem to warm to me. It's hard to make new contacts. On the face of it, Murphy is talking through the troubles of a man in his 30s in New York. But in reality, he is an isolated Russian spy unburdening himself to the only person he can. Well, Richard, you know, it takes time. You must be persistent. Try to smile more. Americans expect people to smile. I think I should change careers. To what? A thinking job? Public policy? International affairs? Something like that. What does the center say? I haven't asked them yet. The course is expensive and money's tight, so I'm still thinking it over. So you're thinking about a thinking job? Glad I'm not your handler. Well, maybe this help. Until next time. Richard Mezos pats the black bag he placed on the spare chair, then leaves. Murphy finishes his coffee, picks up the black bag and moves to the counter to pay the bill. He knows there is a lot of cash inside the bag Metzos left him, but it still won't be enough. It's never enough. Later that month, the FBI field office, New York. In a briefing room, rookie FBI agent Maria Ritchie looks at a huge cork board covered with a map of the United States. Dotted around the map are photos of the three spy couples the FBI is watching. One in New Jersey, one in New York State, and one in Cambridge, Massachusetts. All of whom are under Surveillance by the FBI's Operation Ghost Stories team. But in the middle of the map are surveillance photos of Christopher Metzos with a question mark above them. Richie peers at Metzos photo. Who's this one? Her boss replies. Christopher Mezos. The photos are from his recent meeting with Richard Murphy. He's the center of the wheel, the connection with Moscow. We believe he's the only one who has direct in person contact with all of them. As far as we can tell, the individual families know nothing about each other. Richie sips her coffee and again feels the secret thrill of being in this room. She used to be a lawyer. On a whim, she applied to join the FBI's legal team, but was instead offered the chance to become a federal agent. Now she's got her dream gig, a counterespionage case against deep cover Russian spies. Where's he live? Unknown. He uses a Canadian passport, but we suspect he has multiple identities. So we need more on him. Yeah, he's the one who connects all the couples. We link each couple to him, then we can show a jury that they're all part of this. Her boss smiles, impressed at how quick she's getting up to speed. Exactly. Also, if Mezos is bringing them money, we need to find out where he's getting that money from. When do we think he'll visit next? Her boss shrugs. Could be six months, could be two years. But whenever it is, we need eyes on him every second he's in this country. So I want a plan ready to roll the moment we get word he's back. Summer 2002 Wanji National Park, Zimbabwe. Alex Chapman unzips the front of the luxury safari tent he and his wife, Anna, are sharing. It's early morning and he and Anna are on an African safari for their delayed honeymoon. They got married two months ago following their whirlwind romance. Now they are husband and wife, and Anna will soon have a British passport, one in her new name, Anna Chapman. As they exit the tent, he can't resist sliding his hand around her waist and kissing her neck. But Alex pulls his hand back quickly when he spots Anna's father outside tending to the fire. His name is Vasily Kushenko, and he puts Alex on edge. Despite paying for their long and very expensive honeymoon, it is clear Kushenko does not approve of Alex. There have been several pointed questions about Alex's income and how he intends to support his new wife, but Anna is devoted to him. Morning, Papa. We're going to look for animals at the water hole. Kushenko doesn't even look up as he speaks. No, Alex will help me with the fire and then join you at the water hole. Alex is irritated by the domineering tone, but Anna grins and takes the binoculars. Okay, see you soon. Alex reluctantly moves to the fire. Kushenko is a diplomat in the Russian embassy in Zimbabwe, but despite spending the past week with him, Alex still finds his father in law terrifying. He sees Kushenko has created a tiny flame with some twigs. Alex decides to help and tries to place a large log on top of it. Kushenko knocks it firmly out of the way. Do you know nothing about starting fires? Sorry, no. My parents weren't fans of camping. It should be essential learning for every person. What if you get lost in the bush? Alex resists the urge to quip that the only bush in London is Shepherd's Bush and it's unlikely he'll need to start a fire there. There's something about his new father in law that feels menacing. He travels the streets of Harare in A blacked out 4x4 with two security vehicles at all times. He seems to know a lot about guns and when he speaks, it's more like an army sergeant than a diplomat. Kushenko glares at Alex. You are useless here. Go join Anna. Alex leaves gratefully and finds Anna in a viewing hideout near the water hole where some elephants are drinking. She smiles at him. Hi. Are you and Papa getting on better? I think he'd quite like to leave my dead body somewhere it won't be found. He's not kgb, is he? Alex is startled by the strange alert expression that wipes Anna's smile away. It disappears quickly and she laughs. Don't be silly, Alex. He's just a diplomat. No. Look at that sweet baby elephant. Elephant. Don't you just want to take him home with us? Almost two years later May 2004 New York State In a car rental company near an airport, an FBI agent joins the line. But he's not here to get a car, but to keep eyes on Metzos. Metzos just flew into the country and is now now at one of the desks collecting the hire car he booked. The FBI agent listens in as the desk clerk checks her computer. Sorry, Mr. Metos, we don't have the particular model you booked. Real sorry about that. So instead I'll upgrade you to something better. The FBI agent studies Metos face. He's relieved to see no hint of suspicion. Then the Russian spy takes the keys and follows the employee out into the parking lot to get his car. The car into which the FBI has already planted a GPS tracker. The next afternoon, Forest Hills Train Station, Queens. In a van parked nearby, two FBI agents watch screens showing live Footage from the hidden cameras they've planted in the station. The FBI's learned that Metzos is due to meet a Russian diplomat here today and they want to capture the moment. The two agents in the van tense as the diplomat appears on one of the screens. He's wearing a baseball cap that he's put on backwards and carrying an orange colored shopping bag. He loiters on the platform at the top of the stairs leading out of the station but there's no sign of Metzos. The minutes stretch by unbearably. Then the thinning hair of Metzos appears in shot. He too is carrying an orange colored shopping bag. The two Russians walk towards each other, one down the stairs and the other up. As they pass, Metzos smoothly grips the shopping bag in the diplomat's hand just as the diplomat reaches across to grab Mezos. Identical bag, bag swapped. The two men continue walking in opposite directions and out of shot. The agents in the van breathed with relief the camera was in the right position. The Russian spies brush pass is all on tape. That evening, sunny Queens, New York Maria Richie is sitting in a restaurant opposite a male FBI agent. They're playing the part of an unhappy couple, using long sulky silences to cover the fact that they're listening to the conversation between Richard Murphy and Christopher Mezos, who are sitting just a few tables away. Not that Richie and her colleague need to overhear every word. Although Metz, Metzos and Murphy meet rarely, this is the same restaurant they always meet in. They've even got a favorite table, one that's now wired up with listening devices. Metzos leans towards Murphy. Richard, we need to see higher quality product from you. Murphy's shoulders sag. I'm trying. So you always see say it's not that easy to get a job in public policy. Maybe this career change is not right for you. Maybe you would have been better sticking to work with computers. Look, I'm working on it, but it's going to take time, okay? Mezos reaches for one of the two shopping bags he arrived with and pushes the other towards Murphy with his foot. Next time I visit, you need to have delivered more value. Metzo says his goodbyes as he leaves, Richie glances at Murphy. He's hunched over and fiddling with the salt shaker. For a moment, this dangerous Russian spy suddenly seems very human. Two days later Wurtzboro, upstate New York. At a rest stop off the highway, two FBI agents in casual clothes get out of their car. They are 80 miles north of New York City and retracing Metzos's steps. They know from the GPS tracker in Metzos hire car that he stopped here for some time the previous day. So they've come here to find out why. You go that way. I'll check this way. They begin to search the surrounding vegetation and woods. Eventually, beneath a utility pole, one of the agents spots a brown beer bottle buried upside down in the earth. Got something? The other agent hurries over and looks at the bottle. That's got to be a dead drop. The agent photographs the bottle, then starts to dig. They suspect the bottle is the marker for where Metzos has buried something to be recovered later. Beneath the soil is a heavy parcel wrapped in gray duct tape. Inside the parcel is $125,000 in cash. This must be the rest of the money Mezos collected. Jeez, he's like a friggin pirate. This is my new retirement plan right there. Touring the country looking for dead drops, the two agents replace the money and carefully restore the dead drop so that it looks exactly like they found it. Then they set up a concealed motion triggered video camera on the utility pole and leave it there, waiting to film whoever comes to collect the money. Four months later Hoboken, New Jersey Ow. Damn it. In their two bedroom apartment, Cindy scowls at her husband, Richard Murphy. The apartment has the bare minimum of furniture, and yet he still managed to stub his toe on a lounge chair. You'll wake the girls. You're supposed to be observant. Murphy rubs his big toe with a wounded expression, which only increases Cindy's irritation. She stalks off to the kitchen area. Cindy is a petite woman with an ultra short brown bob. To their American friends. She is a native New Yorker with a bubbly personality, but right now she's frustrated. When did you last make any contacts? Is that international affairs degree of yours going to pay off? Murphy just rubs his toe. Wincing, Cindy slams down a pan. You've got to get better at this, Richard. I'm trying. I'm looking for jobs in the State Department. Don't be stupid. You'll have to pass extended security checks. Cindy locks eyes with her husband. Their false identities are based on forged birth certificates. Good enough to pass standard checks, but any in depth background check would expose the fraud. You should target companies with access to the White House. Murphy hobbles to the fridge to get a beer. If you've got so many ideas, you do it. Fine, I will. You stay at home with a kit. Suits me fine. Cindy washes the dishes furiously as her husband storms into their bedroom and slams the door. She feels Torn. She knows she's the better intelligence officer of the two of them. Murphy is too downbeat to make the connections Moscow needs. He can't fake that American cheeriness. But she can. Cindy initially left her job working for an accountancy firm so she could spend more time with their two girls. Now she must be a spy first and a mother second. A few months later, the FBI field office New York FBI agent Maria Ritchie and her colleague Derek Piper are checking the audio recordings from the listening devices planted in the Murphy's apartment. The two sit up as they hear Murphy's phone ringing. They check the timestamp. Early afternoon. The phone call log confirms it's a call from his wife, Cindy. She's now the breadwinner of the family, working in Manhattan providing financial advice to wealthy New Yorkers. Murphy answers her call. Yeah, it's me. Did you get the kids off okay? Yeah, of course I did. I'll be late home tonight. Have you done the vacuuming? I was doing it when you called. Okay, see you later. Richard and Piper look at each other quizzically as they hear Richard turn on the TV instead of the vacuum cleaner. I recognize that he's watching the Sopranos. Do you think he's depressed because he's watching the Sopranos instead of vacuuming? No, that's a sign of superior intelligence. What I mean is, it seems like he lacks purpose. You know what will help when we knock down his door and put him in jail? Richie screws her face up at him. Well, that's not going to happen till we find out how they communicate with Moscow. Years of tape and we've still got no clue. This is a good episode. Richie laughs, but it masks her rising frustration. Because until they find clear evidence of the Murphy's communicating with their spy masters in Moscow, they won't be able to arrest them. Just over six months later. July 2005. Hoboken, New Jersey. It's past midnight and Richie is dressed head to toe in black. Along with a small team of FBI specialists, they move swiftly and quietly through the apartment block and towards the front door to Richard and Cindy Murphy's apartment. The Murphys are on vacation and the FBI is using the opportunity to search their apartment. They hope to find clues to how the spy couple communicate with Moscow. The team moves slow and quiet. This search will take hours, but they need to leave no trace. Everything must be photographed as they go so that they can put everything back exactly how they found it before they leave. They also know that the walls in this apartment block are thin enough that if they make too much noise, the neighbors might hear them. Several hours later, an agent searching the TV cabinet signals for Richie to come over. What is it? He shows her a shoebox filled with computer discs. There's also a scrap of paper with 27 characters on it that looks a lot like a password. Richie and the agent look at one another and grin. If you're tired of endlessly scrolling through multiple streaming apps to find your favorite movies and shows, then it's time to simplify your entertainment with subscriptions on Prime Video. 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