Mentos Gum (4:36)

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Indira Varma (5:30)

From Wondery. I'm Indira Varma and this is the spy who in the last episode, Russian intelligence officer Alexander Potayev gave the FBI the names of the deep cover Russian spies living in the usa. And the FBI launched Operation Ghost Stories to build a case against them. But the threat from these so called illegals is rising as one of them, New Jersey mum Cindy Murphy, is making inroads with the inner circle of US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. This is episode two, the New Illegals 2009 Cambridge, Massachusetts hey honey, I'm home. Deep cover Russian spy Donald Heathfield enters his family's comfortable suburban home. It's 10 years since he and his family moved to America. He's now a management consultant and a member of a technology think tank, both of which allow him to get acquainted with some of America's brightest minds. His address book now includes nuclear scientists and former White House officials, but to them, his colleagues and his neighbors, he's just a regular family guy. Heathfield hangs up his coat and enters the kitchen. His wife, Tracy Foley, is chopping vegetables beside a large pot of boiling water. He approaches, slipping his arm around her waist. Hey, good looking, what you got cooking? Heath Field lifts the lid off the pot to peek inside and catches his breath in shock. Floating in the boiling water are Russian pelmeni dumplings, a staple of his and Foley's previous lives in the Soviet Union. Are those tortellini? Yes. I thought we'd have a bit of an Italian twist tonight. Foley gives her husband a pointed look. Of course, there's no reason why they shouldn't cook Russian food. They have tried to educate their children with a broad view of the world, but Heathfield still feels an illicit rush just at the sight of the dumplings innocently floating in the pot. And the fact that his wife is lying about it means she feels it, too. Heathfield returns her look. Okay, I'll call the kids down. Tim, Alex, dinner's ready. The family sits at their large wooden dinner table, and Foley enters carrying the steaming plate of pelmeni. The smell reminds Heathfield of a life that he left behind 22 years ago. Alex looks up curiously. What's that? Foley sets down the plate with a flourish and smiles. It's called tortellini. It's Italian. We can't have you just eating burgers your whole lives. Their two teenage boys spoon the dumplings onto their plates and tuck in ravenously. Heathfield and Foley share a loving glance tinged with melancholy as they watch their sons enjoying the food of their own childhoods, even if they don't know it. February 2009 Montclair, New Jersey Richard Murphy and his wife, Cindy, are out walking in the woods surrounding their new suburban home. These walks are their opportunity to speak freely, safe from listening devices or being overheard. They amble together like any married couple, smiling at a jogger who runs by. But as soon as he passes, Cindy turns to her husband. Richard, those are orders from the Center. They need you to step up. Do we know what happened to Metzos? Come on, they're not going to tell us that. But he's gone and they need a new courier to get money to us and the others. And you're the one the center has chosen to do it. They both fall silent as a spandex clad cyclist shoots past Murphy looks at the ground. This breaks all the rules. We're not meant to have any contact with other illegals. That was the whole point of having Metzos as the courier. Richard, rules change. We have to adapt to circumstances. It's the basis of what we do. Honey, this is a good thing for you. The girls are at school now. This is a chance for you to get back in the field. Do what you're really trained for instead of just sending messages by computer. The center needs you. Cindy gives her husband's arm a supportive squeeze. He smiles back at her. I suppose it's just a brush pass, right? Exactly. Just remember the training. It's like riding a bike. You've got this. They walk in silence for a moment. Then Murphy turns to his wife. How about you? Are you getting any closer to Patrickov? The center has cleared him. They don't believe he's been planted as bait to catch us. But I have to be patient. I can't just start asking questions about Hillary Clinton. I must earn his trust. Richard nods in understanding. Their need for caution and patience was drummed into them during their training. Their mission isn't about quick wins. June 2009 White Plains, upstate New York in an unmarked van parked outside North White Plains train station, two FBI agents watch a small bank of monitors. Their faces bathed in the screen's glow. They are monitoring the multiple camera feeds they've set up in and around the train station. The FBI know from monitoring the Murphy's communications with Moscow that Richard Murphy is coming here today to be given cash by an officer from Russia's foreign intelligence service, the svr. Cash that will help fund the espionage of the Murphys and other deep cover Russian spies. So the FBI's Operation Ghost Stories team has wired North White Plains train station with 37 hidden cameras to catch the handover on video. With cameras everywhere, the FBI doesn't need people on the ground keeping watch. But even so, the team needs to be careful because the SVR could be watching them, watching its spies. One of the FBI agents in the van sits up. We got movement on camera 8. His colleague leans over and squints at the man on screen. Is that him? What the hell's he wearing? On screen there's a man wearing a white bucket hat with two bags slung over his shoulder and another in his hand. The agents watch as the man walks down a platform and out of shot, only to walk straight into the view of another camera which offers a close up shot of the man. It's unmistakably Richard Murphy. It's him for sure. All we have to do now is wait for his contact. In a cramped, darkened room in the Bronx, two Russian men lean over a desktop computer, anxiously monitoring activity on FBI communication channels. These men are officers in the svr, Russia's foreign intelligence service, and they're watching for signs of increased FBI communications, which could indicate that the Americans have Murphy's impending brush pass under surveillance. The lead officer turns to his companion. Anything? The second officer keeps his eyes fixed on the monitor, but shakes his head. Nothing sweet so far. It's all clear. No indications of FBI surveillance. Back at North White Plains station, the FBI agents in the van monitor Richard Murphy as he moves around the train station, flipping from monitor to monitor on their bank of screens. No matter where he heads, they have every angle of the station completely covered. Which is just as well, because they're under strict orders not to communicate with with the rest of the team during this operation. The FBI knows the SVR will likely be monitoring its communications activity and might abort the brush pass if anything seems abnormal. The FBI agents in the van lean forward, eyes glued to the screens as Murphy crosses from one platform to another. This might be it. Come on. Don't mess this up. Murphy moves along a tunnel connecting the platforms and then up a flight of stairs towards the platform. Another figure appears at the top of the stairwell. He's wearing a plain white T shirt and walking down the steps towards Murphy. It's the SVR man with the cash. They couldn't have chosen a better place to make their exchange. It's secluded and gives them a clear view of anyone potentially following them. But the FBI's hidden cameras have this tunnel completely covered. The two Russian men draw close. At the last possible moment, Murphy swings the backpack he's carrying to his side and quickly unzips it. As he holds it open, the SVR contact drops another bag inside it. The whole exchange lasts less than two seconds. Then the two men part company, never looking back. The FBI agents in the van feel a surge of adrenaline pass through their bodies as they exhale. Gotcha. Back in their darkened room in the Bronx, the SVR men, watching for FBI activity, track Murphy's phone signal as he leaves the train station. The brush pass seems to have gone without a hitch. The lead officer turns to his colleague. Any uptick in FBI communications? Nothing. All normal. The lead officer nods in approval, convinced that the operation has gone perfectly. That afternoon, in the FBI's New York field office, the mood is jubilant. The Operation Ghost Stories team has every moment of Murphy's brush pass exchange. On camera video footage that provides incontrovertible proof that this deep cover spy is in contact with Russian officials. Alan Kohler, the head of the Ghost Stories team, calls the group together, a broad smile across his face. Outstanding work today. This is a huge leap forward in the case. Every one of you performed exceptionally. The Russians have broken their own protocols and we were there to catch it. FBI agent Maria Ritchie can't help herself and leans forward. So when are we going to arrest them? Not yet. Our case was strong and now it's even stronger. But what today also showed is there's still more we can learn about their operations. So we need to be patient. But don't worry. That day will come. We will arrest these people. A few months later. Brooklyn, New York. An Operation Ghost Stories agent trains his camera on Murphy, who's standing just a few feet away on a street corner. This is a surveillance operation and the agent is sitting in a van taking pictures of the Russian spy through blacked out windows. The agent tenses as he sees Michael Zertoli approaching. Zatoli is a Russian deep cover spy who lives in Seattle. The last time he came to New York, he dug up the money Christopher Metzos buried in a dead drop near Wurzburg. Now he's here to collect more money, but this time in person from Murphy. It's the kind of moment the FBI has been hoping for ever since it began watching the Russians almost 10 years ago. Direct contact between two of the deep cover spies. It's unprecedented. The SVR protocol is that the illegals never meet. Zatoli stops near Murphy. They're now standing so close to the van that the FBI agent can hear their conversation. Excuse me, did we meet in Bangkok in April last year? I don't know about April, but I was in Thailand in May of that year. The agent smiles at the secret code but maintains his cool. He needs to stay sharp. The agent jumps in shock as the van's door handle violently rattles. Someone's trying to break in. What if Zertoli and Murphy have an SVR counter surveillance team watching their backs and they've grown suspicious about the van? The FBI agent's heart races. In his mind's eye, he sees the door swinging open and Murphy staring straight at him, camera in hand. The entire operation would be blown. Almost 10 years. Work destroyed in an instant. Through the front window, the agent sees a skinny hooded figure walk down the line of parked cars, trying each door handle in turn. Just a petty crook hoping for an unlocked vehicle. The agent Exhales in relief. Welcome to New York. The agent snaps back to attention as Murphy and Zatoli walk off together, sitting down on a park bench to talk. Then Murphy hands something to Zertoli, but instead of immediately moving away as any two spies doing an exchange should, they just sit and talk on the bench like two old friends catching up, the FBI agent keeps filming. He wonders whether the chance to talk with a fellow illegal proves too tempting to resist or whether this signals a shift in the Russians MO. That afternoon, the FBI's New York Field office. In a secure room, the Operation Ghost Stories team is assembled for a debrief. Alan Kohler, the head of the team, leans back in his chair and addresses the room. Based on what we saw today, the SVR has made Richard Murphy their new money man. Christopher Mezos is no longer their cash courier and his location remains unknown. He might be back in Russia or laying low abroad under another identity, but we still need to keep looking for him. But the interesting thing about the Murphy's Atolli meet is that this wasn't just a quick meeting. They sat talking together for over an hour. Are they getting sloppy or is there more to it? Richie, you got eyes on the Murphy's? Any thoughts on that? FBI agent Maria? Richie sits up. Honestly, I think Murphy's just lonely. They all are to some extent. With Mezos gone, these guys have no one to talk to who actually understands the double lives they're living. Another agent turns to look at Richie. What do you mean? Murphy's got his wife. She knows about his double life. She's living it too. Richie gives a thoughtful shrug and a slight roll of her eyes. You ever met a man who could get by with only his wife to talk to? These guys need another man to let off steam with. Richie's colleague, Derek Piper cuts in. He and Richie lead on surveillance of the Murphys, but maybe something bigger is changing too. We've got Richard Murphy doing the money, Zatoli and his wife have moved to D.C. and Donald Heathfield's whole network up in Boston is growing. It feels like the Russians are changing things up or entering some new phase of activity. We spent years watching them and they've been so low key, but now they're taking more risks. Agreed. Something's up and we need to figure out what. We've had these people, people under watch for years. And now for all we know, they're planning their big move and we're in the dark. We need to get ahead of this.

Expedia (22:51)

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Indira Varma (23:15)

One month later October 2009 New York City Deep cover spy Cindy Murphy weaves through the bustling crowd at the Columbia University Careers Fair. Representatives of America's biggest companies stand grinning behind garishly colored stalls, all hoping to attract the Ivy Leaguers who are milling around armed with their resumes. Murphy is one of those students. In addition to her day job at a wealth management firm, she's now studying for an MBA at Columbia. Moscow hopes the course will enable her to get even closer to America Elite. But today she's not job hunting. She's here on a different mission to carry out surveillance of the CIA's recruitment stand. Murphy keeps her distance from the stand. She pretends to glance at flyers and posters and other stands. But all the time she's keeping an eye on which of her classmates stopped to speak to the CIA's request recruiters. They may just be students now, but if they join the agency, who knows where they'd be in 10 or 15 years time. Maybe one of them could be turned into a high ranking mole inside the CIA. And even if they don't become Russian agents, keeping track of them could help Moscow figure out what the CIA is up to. This is core to the mission of all the Russian illegals to talent spot potential spies for the SVR to turn. Each student she reports back to Moscow will be evaluated as a person of interest and their details kept on file. It may take years until that knowledge becomes of use, if ever. But the center knows how to play the long game. Around the same time, SVR officer and FBI mole Alexander Potiev strolls down a bustling street of a city in Latin America. The warmth of the tropical autumn sun on his face is a welcome change from the biting wind of Moscow. He enters a busy cantina in a darkened corner. He sees his FBI and CIA handlers sitting at a corner to. He moves towards them and sits down. The CIA man pushes a bottle of beer towards him. Alexander, Good to see you Cervessa. The three men clink beer bottles. Then Potiev turns to his FBI handler. You need to be careful, you know. Some of my illegals think they're being followed. What happened? Nothing I can't handle. It could be paranoia, but some of them are worried they are under surveillance. But of course the reports all come through me so I can stop them. Going any further. Although that of course puts me in more danger. Potiev breezily sips his beer, almost enjoying the looks of concern on the faces opposite. Then he continues. In any case, you have something else to worry about. A whole new type of illegal. The CIA man leans in with obvious concern. What do you mean a whole new type? Potayev takes another sip of his beer, then fixes the CIA man with a steely gaze. Since you're 9 11, you've tightened all the rules. It's become much harder to travel unnoticed on a false identity, so the illegals program has been forced to change. We now use true names. Illegals true name. They come in on their real name and live amongst you openly. What do you say in English? Hiding in plain sight. There's one on the way to New York right now. Her name is Anna Chapman. The FBI handler's forehead creases in confusion. Chapman? That doesn't sound very Russian. I thought they were using their real names. She's been living in London. She married an Englishman, took his name, and has been building her legend and reputation there. She worked mainly in finance. It's a good way to get to know the rich and powerful. Now she's divorced and on her way to New York on her British passport to start fishing in your pond. The FBI agent cuts in. If she's coming in legally using her real identity, then we're going to have to catch her actually committing espionage, not just meeting with known spies. Exactly. And that won't be easy. Moscow's given her new technology, short range laptop to laptop communication. She won't even need to meet her handler, he can just walk by. And their computers make their own little private network for sharing messages. Unless you're in exactly the same place at exactly the same time time, you've got no chance. And the messages are of course encrypted. Great. You got any good news for us? The system only lets them exchange very short messages. It's no good for sharing detailed information. Does that make you feel better? The FBI man rubs his temples as if he's come down with a sudden migraine and Potiev raises his beer in mock sympathy. The CIA officer intercedes, trying to steady the conversation. What about you? Are you under any suspicion? No more than usual, at least to my knowledge. They're letting me travel. That's a good sign. But it's getting harder. I had to turn down a promotion because they would have made me take a lie detector test, and that in itself raises questions. I assume the exfiltration Plan is still still solid. The CIA man nods earnestly. Absolutely. Anything changes, you send the signal. We'll get you out. January 2010. New York City. A cocktail party at a sleek penthouse in soho. The lights of Manhattan glitter through the floor to ceiling windows as a crowd of finance, tech and media high flyers drink, network and flirt in equal measure. A well connected corporate lawyer leans against a wall, sipping a negroni with his friend. Both men's eyes are fixed on a woman across the room. She's captivating with a mane of flaming red hair and an irresistible energy and charm. She flashes a smile at the men she is speaking to, keeping them completely enthralled. Yet somehow it seems as if she keeps throwing sidelong glances in the lawyer's direction. His friend gives him a sly nudge. She's into you, man. Are you kidding? She's a nine, I'm a six at best. Don't kid yourself. You're a four tops. But you're stinking rich. That doubles you to an eight. The lawyer sputters his drink with laughter. Well, fuck you very much. Well, I guess we'll see. Here she comes. The lawyer pulls himself together fast as the woman with the red hair walks right up to them, flashing that smile. Hi, I'm Anna Chapman. My friend said I had to speak to you. I'm in property. Chapman holds out her card. The lawyer takes it and reads out the words emblazoned on the tastefully off white cardboard. Explore your possibilities. I like that. What kind of property you in? Oh, you know. High end. For Russians mainly. We love this city. I only just moved here though. Maybe you could help show me around. Despite his best efforts, the lawyer breaks into a Cheshire cat grin. Well, sure. I'd like that a lot. My number's on the card. Call me. Chapman flashes in the smile one more time, then sachets across the room to another small group of men. He sees her holding out another one of her cards, probably giving them the exact same lines. But he doesn't care. He looks down at the card in his own hands, reading the words to himself one more time. Explore your possibilities. A few days later, New York City FBI Agent Maria Ritchie keeps her eyes on Anna Chapman. From her position in a parked car, she can see Chapman sitting in the window of a coffee shop. She's got a laptop open in front of her and a latte on the table. She could be any ambitious young woman in lower Manhattan. Team four, be advised. Subject has departed and is heading towards your position. Black van with tinted windows. We're Maintaining visuals. Richie sits up as the head of ops updates her through an earpiece. Other members of her team are tracking a Russian official who is en route to make contact with Chapman in the coffee shop. Chapman gets up to pour herself a glass of water at the counter, leaving her laptop unattended on her table. Richie watches in disbelief. She can't believe a spy would ever leave their operational computer open like that for anyone to steal. Team four, prepare for contact. Ritchie watches Chapman return to her laptop just as the black van from the embassy turns onto the street. The FBI hope to catch Chapman and her Russian handler together. That's the kind of evidence they need to prove that she's a spy. But instead of parking, the black van just drives by. In the coffee shop. Chapman folds up her laptop and stands to walk away. The exchange of messages has been made. Richie grits her teeth in frustration. Chapman might be careless with her laptop, but this new messaging technology means she never needs to meet her handler face to face. And that's going to make the FBI's job a hell of a lot harder. One month later February 2010 Langley, Virginia FBI Director Robert Mueller leans back in a leather chair. He's in a secure meeting room at the CIA's headquarters. On the opposite side side of the desk sits CIA Director Leon Panetta. Mueller's been bringing him up to date on Operation Ghost Stories, but he's really here for advice. Advice on how to alert President Barack Obama to what's going on. Mueller folds his arms and tries to convey the urgency of the situation. We feel the time for arrests is getting near. These new true name illegals are changing the game. Chapman's one of three we're now aware of. On top of that, we've got several of the illegals we've been watching converging on Washington, D.C. and they're getting close to people connected with the administration, including Hillary Clinton. We're quietly making sure they won't get any closer, but I think we need to alert the White House and consider what we're going to do with them once we arrest them. Panetta nods in sympathy. Can you get enough to prosecute Chapman and the true name illegals if they're not even meeting their contacts? Well, the new tech is a pain, but we'll figure out how to catch them. The real problem is what do we do when we catch them? These new guys don't have diplomatic immunity. We can't just kick them out of the country. We'll have to arrest and prosecute them. And that means things are going to get political. Perneta sucks his teeth. Obama and his Secretary of state, Hillary Clinton, are eager to improve relations with Russia. The new administration's not going to like this, Bob. Barack's in the middle of his big reset with Russia. They think the Cold War's over. Russia's supposed to be on our side now. I think that is naive. But politics is politics. So how should we play this? Could they shut the operation? Panetta pauses in thought. The situation is complicated by the fact that their agent in place, Alexander Potayev, is still in Moscow. The arrests could expose him as a spy for America. Panetta makes a suggestion. I think we brief the White House national security team. At this stage, they probably won't even take it to the President. They'll be pissed, but they won't shut us down. What matters is you'll have flagged any possible political fallout and you'll still get to keep your eyes on these guys. Mueller nods, seeing the wisdom of this approach. Tracking Russian spies is one thing. Navigating Washington politics another challenge entirely. But if Operation Ghost Stories is going to put these Russian spies behind bars, it's going to ensure the opposite administration is on side. March 2010 one month later. FBI agent Maria Richie sits near the window of a coffee shop in the Fort Green area of Brooklyn. She's been sitting here for hours, pretending to read the Sunday newspapers that are spread out across her table. And now the moment she's been waiting for has arrived. For just outside the coffee shop, Russian deep cover spies Richard Murphy and Michael Zertoli are meeting again. From their intercepts of Murphy's messages with Moscow, the FBI know that this meeting was meant to be a quick brush pass. But once again the two are breaching protocol. They've been chatting for almost 15 minutes. Then, to Richie's shock, they turn and walk straight into the coffee shop where she's sitting. Richie freezes as the two spies she's hunting walk to the counter, order two coffees, then sit down at a table right next to her. She's been watching Murphy for almost 10 years. She knows some of the most intimate details of his life. And now he is sitting only feet from her. But she has no way to record this. The FBI were expecting a short brush pass to take place outside. There was no need for Richie to film their meeting. Other agents had that covered. Richie casually picks up her cell phone and texts her team. Video camera, bathroom drop. She keeps the newspapers in front of her as if absorbed in reading something. But her attention is on Murphy and Zatoli they're so close she can see the hairs on the back of Murphy's neck. The coffee shop door swings open and a female FBI agent enters as her colleague orders a drink. Drink. Richie heads to the ladies restroom. A moment later, the FBI agent enters and hands her a small bag containing a hidden video camera. Richie then returns to her table. Once back in her seat, Richie sets the camera bag down so it captures Murphy and Zatoli's table. She's so close she can overhear their conversation. Murphy leans forward to Zatoli. You still having computer problems? Zatoli nods, rolling his eyes in frustration. Murphy pulls a laptop out of his bag and places it on the table between them. Richie knows Murphy recently made a secret trip to Russia to collect this laptop for Satoli. This should help. If it doesn't work, we can meet again. But probably not for six months. Zatoli takes the laptop and slips it into his bag. Murphy drains the last of his coffee and looks at Zatoli, speaking as if he needs to get things off his chest. They don't know what we go through out here, you know. Richie feels a flash of excitement. She catches them actually referencing the Center. An undercover male FBI agent enters and walks up to Richie's table. I'm so sorry I'm late. Let me get you a coffee. The team must have thought fast and sent her some cover so it doesn't look strange she's there alone. Richie smiles up at him. Hey, great to see you. Okay. Nice. I'll have a cappuccino. The agent heads to the counter to fetch the cappuccino. Richie leans back in her chair, keeping her attention fixed on the table in front of her. She's already buzzing from the string of coffees she consumed while waiting for the meat and combined with the adrenaline of the moment. Her heart is now thumping hard in her chest as she continues to record Murphy and Zatoli complaining about their treatment by the Center. One MONTH LATER Manhattan Anna Chapman leads her latest boyfriend to the front door of her apartment. He's successful and well connected, the kind of man who can introduce her to people the center in Moscow will want to keep tabs on. Chapman can feel his eyes on her as she unlocks the door and flips on the lights. She flashes him a smile as he follows her in. Let me fix you something. Vodka okay? I've got the good stuff. The financiers had a few drinks and Chapman can see the flush in his cheeks. His eyes follow her around the room, transfixed. The man sees he's been caught staring and looks around the apartment awkwardly, his eyes widening with surprise. This place is great. Your company must be doing well. I know plenty of people in startups and they don't have apartments like this. Chapman hands him a drink, still smiling. We have some backers in Russia mainly, and I work hard. I want to make it, you know, live the American dream. She raises her drink and they clink glasses. The man then tries to turn on his own charm, taking her hand in his. I love that. That energy. Coming to a new country to follow a dream. I just admire that so much. Chapman senses him getting serious and matches his energy. Of course, it's not always easy. My life is not normal. I will probably not have a family. You don't know that. No, it's okay. I. I've accepted that to achieve what I want, I must make sacrifices. The man pauses. Chapman can tell he's fascinated by her, and that's just where she wants him. She sets down her glass. Anyway, enough of this. This talk isn't fun. Chapman places her hand on his chest and unbuttons the top button of his shirt, pulling him towards her. This is fun. A few days later Cambridge, Massachusetts Pennsylvania Avenue with one hotel that's 150 bucks, please. Dammit. Language, Alex. Russian deep cover spy Donald Heathfield smiles as he plays Monopoly with his family. Night is falling, dinner has been cleared, and the living room feels cozy and warm. His eldest son, Tim, already has the upper hand in the game. Heathfield allows himself the wry observation that with his wife home and two teenage sons, he seems to have raised the archetypal American family. He picks up the dice, but before he rolls, he looks across the table. So kids, where do you think we should go on vacation this year? Tim's head immediately snaps up, his eyes shining. Let's go to Russia. Heathfield and his wife, Tracy Foley, share the briefest glance across the table as he turns to his son. Russia, huh? Why do you want to go there? We've been to pretty much every other country in Europe and we learned about that crazy guy Rasputin in history class. Rasputin? Yeah, he sure was something. Let me and your mum think about that. Heathfield plays it cool as he rolls the dice for his turn at Monopoly, but he knows this idea will need to be negotiated with extreme care. Later that night, Heath Field slips into his family's garage where his wife, Foley, is folding laundry. He walks up beside her and leans on the wall close to where the tumble dryer is spinning. Foley glances at him. The boy's in bed. Yeah. So a family holiday to Russia, then? Foley shakes her head. We can't. Why not? You know why not. Heathfield leans in, trying to get his wife's attention away from the laundry. Hear me out. There's no law against American families visiting Russia. Times have changed. And maybe it could be an introduction to the country, but gently, a first step. A first step to what? You want to keep them in the dark forever? That's for the Centre to decide. Heathfield nods and pauses before replying. You're right, of course. We'd clear it with the Center. But we should at least ask. I mean, if not now, when Tim's about to turn 20, this could be our last real family vacation. Foley stares down at her children's brightly colored T shirts splayed with the logos of sports teams and famous brands, so different from the clothes of her own childhood. She looks up at Heathfield. Don't say that. They're not kids anymore. This could be our last chance at this. Foley nods slowly. We'll ask the center, but until we get an answer, no promises to the boys. Just tell them we're thinking about it. I'm serious. Heathfield smiles, giving his wife's arm a squeeze and raising his other hand in a mock Boy Scout salute. I promise. On the American Constitution. Three weeks later, May 2010 Operation Ghost Stories Chief Alan Kohler has gathered the team for an urgent meeting at the FBI's headquarters in Washington, D.C. the entire unit of over 25 agents have flown in from across the country, and they all know something big is happening. Kohler stands before them with his shirt sleeves rolled up. Alexander Potiyev, the FBI source in the SVR that exposed the Russian spies in the US has signaled for exfiltration from Russia. And that means it's now time for for the FBI to wrap up Operation Ghost Stories. Kohler calls the meeting to order. All right, listen up. We've just had word from the CIA. Our source has asked for exfiltration. The moment that source goes, every one of our targets here in the US Will be alerted to the possibility they've been exposed and become a flight risk. So we are going to bring this operation to a close. We have our arrest plans in place. It's time to start putting them in action. Kohler pauses to let the news sink in, then continues. We're doing this fast, hard, and coordinated. These deep cover guys will all have emergency protocols. If they hear one of them's been arrested, the rest could just disappear. So we arrest all of them at once, in simultaneous operations across the country. Kohler scans the faces of the team that's been watching the fake Americans for the past decade. Then he points to the pictures of the 12 illegals projected on a screen behind him. People, this is it. We've been tracking these Russian agents for 10 years now. All that work comes down to three this moment. There will be no mistakes. There will be no slip ups. We're going to get these people. One of the team leans forward with a question. Sir, what about Anna Chapman? We don't have enough evidence to be sure a jury will convict her yet. Kohler squeezes his temples with exhaustion and stress. Yeah, I've been thinking about that. We don't have a choice. The arrests must go ahead. But equally, we can't let her slip away. We're going to have to come up with something. And by we I mean the New York office. Kohler looks towards the team from New York, including Maria Richie and Derek Piper. They've spent years watching Richard and Cindy Murphy in New Jersey, but Anna Chapman's only just arrived on their turf and now they've got a month to get concrete proof that she's a spy. The countdown to the end of Operation Ghost Stories is underway and can't be stopped. What happens next will not just determine the success of their operation, it will have repercussions at the highest levels of global politics and international relations. Wondery plus subscribers can binge full seasons of the Spy who early and ad free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell? Email your ideas to thespywhoandery.com from Wondery. This is the second episode in our season, the Spies who Invaded Suburbia. 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 used many sources in our research for this season, including Russians Among Us by Gordon Carrera and Spy Swap by Nigel west. The Spy who is hosted by me, Indra Varma. Our show is produced by Vespucci with writing and story editing by Yellowant for Wondery for Yellowant. This episode was written by J.S. raffaelli and researched by Louise Byrne, with special thanks to Valeria Cortez. Our managing producer is Jay Priest for Vespucci. Our senior producers are Ashley Clivery and Philippa Gearing. Our sound designer is Iver Manley. Rachel Burke 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 senior producer for Wondery is Theodora Luludis, and our senior managing producer is Rachel Sibley. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Chris Bourne, Morgan Morgan Jones and Marshall Louie.