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Narrator/Advertiser
Wondery subscribers can binge full seasons of the Spy who early and ad free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app.
- [00:15]
Narrator/Raza Jaffrey
Please be advised, this episode contains depictions of violence, racist and religious hate speech and drug use. Dawn, January 2012 the Al Qaeda controlled town of Yah in southern Yemen. In a mosque, Morten Storm watches the jihadi fighters he's with get their rifles. The Yemeni military is attacking again. One of the fighters grabs Storm's arm. Brother, wait here. We cannot lose you this day. Storm doesn't protest. He knows he's more useful to Al Qaeda alive than dead. As a pale skinned Dane with a ginger beard and a hefty build, he doesn't look like he belongs here, but for years he's been a valuable link between Yemeni and European jihadists. Or at least that's what Al Qaeda thinks. In reality, he's a spy. He's here on a high risk mission to learn where the terrorist group's local leaders are hiding so US drones can take them down. With the fighters gone, Storm charges up the stairs of the mosque and onto the roof. The sun is rising, turning the sky purple pink. Across town, where the fighting is underway, a column of black smoke billows into the air. A Yemeni Air Force jet shoots overhead. Storm looks down. A pickup truck speeds away from the mosque carrying the armed jihadis he was praying with moments ago to the battlefront. On seeing it, a sickening realization brings Storm to his knees. His backpack is still in the cab of that truck. Inside that backpack is a USB stick and on that stick is a recording of his last meeting with the CIA. Unarguable proof that Storm is a Western spy. The noise of battle recedes against the blood pounding in his ears. Storm no longer sees the pink sky anymore. All he can what he can see is that backpack being opened and the USB stick being found. When he thinks of what will happen next, nausea hits him. There is no extraction plan and he knows there will be no mercy. The memories of all those Al Qaeda beheading videos flood his mind. Only this time, he will be the hostage facing execution.
- [03:10]
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- [03:12]
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Narrator/Raza Jaffrey
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- [03:42]
Narrator/Raza Jaffrey
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Narrator/Raza Jaffrey
From Wondery I'm Raza Jaffrey, and this is the spy who Beneath the veneer of the everyday lurks the realm of the spy. It's a murky world full of dark corners, sinister motives and corrupted morals. A place of paranoia and infiltration, sabotage and manipulation. In this season, we track the adventures of Morten Storm, a rebellious Danish spy who risked everything to bring down Al Qaeda's leadership in Yemen only to fall out with his spymasters. What you're about to hear are dramatized reconstructions of events based on the information that's been made public. But remember, in the shadowy realm of the spy, the full story is rarely clear. This this is episode one of the Spy who Lived Inside Al Qaeda. Jump in the fire 16 years earlier December 1996 Corso, Denmark 20 year old Morton Storm sits in the passenger seat and peers at the small white house across the street. His long ginger hair is tied back in a ponytail and his leather jacket bears the insignia of the Bandidos biker gang. Number 27, right? His companion nods and cuts the engine. Last night a fellow Bandido got beaten up by a nightclub bouncer. Now Storm is here to teach that bouncer a lesson. Storm takes a small bag of cocaine from his pocket and taps some of the powder onto the back of his hand. He blinks as euphoria rushes through his body. Then he pulls on a balaclava and tucks a baseball bat under his leather jacket. A large man in pajamas opens the door, yawning. His eyes snap open on seeing them. Oh. Before he can react, Storm shoves him to the floor and takes out his baseball bat. No one with the Bandidos. Five minutes later, the two men race out of the house. Storm's baseball bat is now bloodied. They dive into the car and speed away. That night, Storm can't sleep. The bouncer's groans of pain and his crunching bones play on a loop in his mind. And this time the drugs won't shut out the shame he feels. A troubled childhood understanding in jail led him to the Bandidos Two years ago. The gang offered the sense of belonging and family he longed for. But now it's just A whirlpool of drugs, adrenaline, and violence. The bandidos joke that he's Denmark's youngest psychopath. Storm used to find that funny. Now he wonders if it's true. One month later corso, Denmark Storm hunches his shoulders against the bitter winter wind. He's been walking the streets for hours. He can't rid himself of the hollow feeling that has taken root within him. He sees the local library up ahead. It's as good a place as any to warm up inside. He ignores the disapproving, looks at his biker jacket, and drifts aimlessly among the shelves. He notices a book on Islam and picks it up out of curiosity. As a child, Storm used to envy his immigrant Muslim friends for their strong family bonds. His own family life was a mess. His alcoholic father walked out when he was four. The stepdad who replaced him was violent and menacing. By the age of 13, Storm was being kicked out of school and spiraling into a life of crime. Storm wonders if his immigrant friends religion played a role in their family's stability. He takes the book to an alcove and settles in to read the story of the Prophet Muhammad absorbs him, the orphaned child who became a trustworthy trader, how he lived a simple and dignified life, and how he became a religious leader who was ready to fight for his beliefs against persecution. A religion that seemed to offer a path to a new life. Excuse me. Storm looks up to see the librarian standing over him. Sorry to interrupt. We need to close. Already? You've been reading for six hours. Through the window, Storm is bewildered to see the pale Scandinavian sun beginning to set. He leaves the library feeling disoriented, but also with a calm he has rarely felt in his life. Could Islam be the answer to turning his life around? 2004 Luton, England Storm races through the wide central square of the Arndell Shopping Center. His head is now shaved beneath an Islamic Kufi skull cap. His Thor robe flaps open behind him and there's fury in his eyes. Ahead of him are two skinheads in jeans and combat boots. Just minutes ago, the men were harassing Muslim women in the street. Now they're running as fast as they can. They glance behind in fear as they realize Storm is gaining on them. It's been seven years since Storm converted to Islam and adopted a new first name, Murad. He then moved to Britain to escape the Bandidos before going to Yemen to study the religion further. After Al Qaeda's 911 terrorist attack, he became radicalized in response to the West's war on terror. Now he's married to a devout Muslim woman and follows the teachings of radical preachers. He even named his first son Osama, after the leader of Al Qaeda. Along with his fellow militants, Storm roams Luton, tearing down posters of scantily clad women and defending Muslims from attacks by far right groups. One of the skinheads peels off and dives into a boots pharmacy. Storm follows. He catches up with the skinhead in the cosmetic isle. The skinhead starts lobbing jars of makeup at him. Bloody traitor. Say that again. Cuff here. Storm lunges at the man, dragging him to the ground and begins hammering him with his large fists. Blood spatters his robe. He only. He stops when the skinhead stops resisting. Then he springs to his feet and runs away before the police arrive. It's a year later and in his bedroom in Luton, Storm sits at his desk, surrounded by religious books and papers. On his laptop, he's writing a pamphlet urging every Muslim to help the global jihadist movement. He stops typing, creeps to the window and peers through the lace curtains. A policeman at the door. His wife appears outside the bedroom. Why are the police here? Just tell them I'm not home. Storm's wife scowls. Things have been troubled between them for a couple of years. He stays with her only for the sake of their two small children. Storm listens from upstairs as his wife answers the door. Yes? Can we speak to Mr. Storm? He's not here. No, he's in. Storm wonders if it's his pamphlets or the beating up of far right thugs that he's going to get arrested for. But there's no point hiding. He heads downstairs. Ah, Mr. Storm. Could you come with me, please? We have some questions we'd like to ask you. No, I won't. What's the problem? Your car was seen at a petrol station. Somebody put 30 pounds of fuel in and then drove off without paying. Storm knows that's a lie. He grabs the car key from near the front door. Look at the gauge if you like. No one's put 30 pounds of field in it. I'll show you. Storm heads out, gets into his car and turns on the ignition. But when he looks up, the policeman has disappeared. The car's passenger door opens and a young man in a suit slides into it. Mr. Storm. How do you do? I'm Robert. I'm with British Intelligence. What do you want, Morton? There's a very dangerous situation in the UK with terrorism. My name is Murad. Now, why are you harassing Muslims? There's never been a terrorist attack by Muslims in the uk Please, there's no need for anger. I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Storm says nothing. What do you think of Abu Hamza? Abu Hamza is a militant Egyptian imam who preaches at London's Finsbury park mosque. Britain's tabloid newspapers call him Captain Hook because of his prosthetic hand. I've never met him and I'm not gonna backbite him just to please you. You're a non believer. He's a brother Muslim. I see. And what about Anjem Chowdhury? Robert keeps asking questions. Storm keeps stonewalling him, expecting to be arrested at any moment. But then Robert thanks him for his time and leaves. Storm wonders what this was all about. Did Robert hope to recruit him as a spy? But one thing is certain. British intelligence has got eyes on him now and that puts Storm in a dangerous position.
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Narrator/Advertiser
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- [15:10]
Narrator/Raza Jaffrey
That's okay.
- [15:11]
Narrator/Advertiser
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Narrator/Raza Jaffrey
Experian. Late 2005, Sanaar, the capital city of Yemen. It's nearly six months since Storm's face to face with British intelligence and he's back in Yemen. He walked through the city's narrow streets with his three year old son Osama at his side. Much has changed since MI5 visited him in Luton. The July 7 suicide bombings in London brought the war on terror to Britain's streets and heightened his fears of arrest. Then came a messy separation with his wife that led to a fight for custody of Osama with social services. So now he's returned to live in Yemen to reconnect with the jihadis he met there when he first studied Islam. He looks down at Osama. Remember, best behavior, okay? Osama nods and looks anxiously at the house in front of them. Storm double checks it's the right address. The house is bigger than he expected, with a new car parked in front of it. Storm is here to meet his close friend Abdul. They first met in the late 90s during Storm's visit to Yemen. Back then Abdul was a wiry teenager with short curly hair. Nowadays he is a well connected jihadist who even served as courier to Al Qaeda leader Osama Bin Laden in Afghanistan. Before Storm can knock, the door opens and Abdul is there with a wide smile, splitting his Dark beard. Murad, my friend. It's so good to see you. And what? This must be Osama, the littlest jihadi warrior. Yes, come in, come in. Inside, a woman in a niqab greets them before taking Osama with her so Storm and Abdul can talk. Storm claps Abdul on the shoulder. Married, brother. And doing well for yourself too. The house is impressive. Yes, praise be to God. Please sit. Abdul gestures to the living area where large cushions are spread on the floor. But I'm sorry that your marriage didn't work out. Me too. But this is a fresh start for me and for Osama. Besides, England has been uncomfortable since the bombings. But surely they struck fear into the khuffar's hearts. Yeah, but I'm also tired of the blowhards that preach there. Yeah, the cause is authentic. And I want Osama to grow up to be a God fearing Muslim. Hopefully I'll find a new and better wife here. May Allah bless you. So now you're back, what do you plan to do? I'm working with a filmmaker from Denmark. He wants to make a film about the brothers in Yemen. I think he could help spread the message. I wanted to ask, could you help us find people to interview? Leave it with me, brother. I will ask around and make some introductions. It's six months later and in his new home in Sanaa, Storm is hosting a religious study group for other foreign jihadis. The man instructing them today is a tall, thin cleric with round glasses and a neat beard. Muslims must fight against their enemies until the Day of Judgment. It is our duty to fight those countries who seek to repress our religion. The cleric's name is Sheikh Anwar Al Awlaki. Storm first met him at a dinner for other foreign nationals living in Sana'. A. Al Awlaki was born in the US To a rich and influential Yemeni family. He studied engineering in Colorado before becoming an imam. He publicly condemned the September 11 attacks, but was added to the FBI's watch list after it emerged he had met two of the hijackers. Al Awlaki returned to Yemen and turned more extreme. But as someone who has also lived in the west, he and Storm rapidly became friends. On finishing his lecture, Al Awlaki smiles at the group now. I believe Murad has prepared a feast. Let us enjoy and give thanks to God for his brotherhood and the food. Storm directs everybody to the adjoining room where there's a table laid out with the food. But Al Awlaki doesn't follow. You will not eat with us, Sheikh. Thank you. But no, my cooking's not that bad, is it? Now you mention it. No, no. I joke. I must get on. But, Murad. Yes? There's something I've been meaning to say to you about your friend Abdul. About Abdul? Just be careful what you tell him. I'm not sure he is trustworthy. Storm is shocked. He now regards Al Awlakhi as a friend. But Abdul is the person he's closest to in Yemen. May I ask why? Sheikh Abdul lost $25,000 while he was on a mission for the brothers in Djibouti. Storm is surprised at Al Awlaki mentioning the brothers. It's a reference to Al Qaeda. While Al Awlaki has been supportive of the terrorist group in his sermons, Storm didn't know he was directly involved with the organization. You think Abdul stole the money? He disappeared for six months and the money has never been recovered. Abdul now has a very expensive house. All I'm saying is be careful around him. It's a few days later and Storm is walking to evening prayers with Abdul. He's been unsettled by Al Awlaki's warning and decides he needs to confront his friend. Abdul, I don't know how to say this, but there are rumors about you. Rumors? What rumors? That you stole the brother's money when you were in Djibouti. Is it true? I swear by Allah, I did not steal that money. The claims are unjust. Then what happened? I was arrested. Djibouti's intelligence services took the money. Where did you go for six months? That's how long I was in their jail. I swear it, brother. I can show you the stamps in my passport. Storm wonders if he should ask about the new house. But Abdul seems genuinely distressed and he doesn't want to ruin their friendship. I believe you, brother. I didn't know you were in East Africa. What were you doing there? I was a courier for Abu Tala Al Sudani. Storm is impressed. Abu Tallah is one of Al Qaeda's leading operatives in East Africa. Mashallah. That's amazing, Abdul. You are doing God's work. I too hope to go there to carry out jihad in Somalia. What does your new wife think of that? I've already told Fadiya I'm going. What? In the first week of your marriage? Haven't you always told me jihad in these times is an obligation she understands and will be good to Osama if God wishes to take me. Abdul laughs and grips his shoulder. This is a glorious day, brother. When will you go? I need to raise enough Funds first. So I'm going back to Denmark. It'll be easier for me to find work there. Ah, I understand. I shall miss you, brother. But tonight we celebrate, eh? You are no longer a scholar, but a warrior of Isla. The two friends smile at each other. Storm feels elated. It's as if his whole life has been preparing him for this decision. That December Copenhagen, Denmark. Amid swirling snow, Storm loads his purchases from a military surplus store into the back of his car. Camouflage gear, water bottles and Swiss army knives. After months of saving up, Storm is ready to leave for Somalia. He's bought his one way ticket to the war torn country's capital, Mogadishu. He's now stocking up on supplies his jihadist friends there asked him for. Storm feels happy and confident. His marriage to Fadia is going well and he's reached a custody settlement with his first wife, which means he can now see both Osama and his daughter. Regularly. He feels at peace and blessed. Storm checks his phone. It's his contact in Somalia. He pulls over and answers. Salaam, brother. I just bought the supplies you wanted. And he's abruptly cut off by his friend. You mustn't come, Barad. You hear me? Don't come. They've surrounded the airport. Then you need every fighter you can get. No better rescue the moment you land. Stay away. Storm is left stunned, his peace and purpose eviscerated. He slammed slams the steering wheel in frustration.
- [24:49]
Advertiser
Why?
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Narrator/Raza Jaffrey
Why Allah? Why won't you let me go? Why stop me serving you? Leaning his forehead against the steering wheel, just one thought circles in his fevered brain. Why would God let the mujahideen loose? Three months later the outskirts of Aarhus, Denmark Storm sits alone on a small boat in the middle of Brabant Lake, waiting for fish to bite his fishing line. A light mist hangs above the water. Patches of ice drift and swirl in the bays of the lake. The past three months have felt dark to Storm. He dedicated his life to the cause. It cost him. His childhood friends, put him on the radar of intelligence services and strained relations with his mother. So the devastation of not being able to go to Somalia to fulfill his jihadi duty has plunged him into depression and doubt. He cannot understand why Allah would allow defeat upon defeat to be inflicted upon his holy warriors just when they are fulfilling the prophecies. Seeking answers, he googles contradictions in the Quran. The flood of results he gets back brings his extremist beliefs crashing down. The religious justifications his fellow jihadi used for killing civilians don't hold up. He feels Lost and depressed. Nothing makes sense anymore. He has reread the Quran and prayed in mosques, but his faith remains shaken to its core. He keeps wondering, what if the cause he embraced is a lie? Because if it is a lie, then nothing about the the jihadi cause is right or righteous. He thinks about his mother and grandparents. His radical beliefs condemn them and all other unbelievers to death and hellfire. His fellow extremists claim that to kill them with bombs or a knife in the street is God's work. Did he deceive himself for 10 years? Or did he let others deceive him? Rage surges through him. He stands and throws his rod with all his strength. Fuck these lies. Steadying himself against the violent rocking of the boat, Storm watches the rod splash and sink beneath the lake water, taking his faith with it. But what now? He is now the enemy of his friends. The only thing jihadis hate more than non believers are apostates, those who renounce the faith. And it's not just Storm who's at risk. His wife and family will be in danger too. Because Storm knows too much to be allowed to just walk away. March 2007 Aarhus, Denmark Morton Storm enters the presidential suite of the Radisson Hotel. A handsome Danish intelligence officer greets him. He looks like George Clooney in his designer clothes. Welcome, Mr. Storm. It's good to see you again. You can call me Clang. And this is my colleague Buddha. Please sit down. Storm glances at Buddha and scoffs. Clang and Buddha? Is this a Marvel comic? Storm's bravado conceals his nervousness. Ever since his brush with MI5 in the UK, Storm suspected he was under surveillance. So he wasn't shocked when Klang tried to recruit him as a spy shortly after he returned to Denmark from Yemen. At the time, Storm swore at him but took Klang's business card all the same. Then three days ago, he rediscovered the card and realized it could be the answer to his problem. If he must pretend to still be a jihadi to protect himself, then maybe he can turn it into a purpose and atone for his involvement with these terrorists. So he called Clang's number. Buddha hands Storm a room service menu. Order anything you like. It's on us. We can ensure it's halal. Storm ignores the menu. I want a bacon sandwich and a Carlsberg beer. Clang and Buddha look shocked, but Storm feels a weight lift. I'm no longer Muslim. The religion that was my life means nothing to me now. I'm ready to help you fight Terrorism. A few months later, Birmingham, Storm is back in England. Because of his extensive jihadist contacts there, Danish intelligence have loaned him out to MI5. Now he and Fadia live in a small house in Alum Rock, a majority Muslim area of the city, and Storm works as a taxi driver. This morning, after prayers at the local mosque, Storm got invited back to the house of a Syrian refugee and chemistry graduate, Hassan Tabak. Tabak. Tabakh ushers Storm through the front door and then excuses himself hurriedly. Wait here. Storm suspects Tabak will be a person of interest to MI5. During their conversations on Islam, Tabakh was impressed that Storm was friends with Anwar Al Awlaki. He revealed he had been following the US Born Cleric's online sermons for years. Tabak returns looking excited. His hands shake as he lays an array of drawings, plans and maps on the dining table. Storm peers at the documents. What is this, brother? Targets. Oxford street and the area around Parliament. And these. These are sketches of the devices I'm building. What do you think? Will it work? Storm feels his adrenaline surgeon. His loss of faith came with a newfound desire to stop jihadi terrorists from killing and maiming civilians. And now he stumbled onto a terror bomb plot. He needs to learn everything he can and get word to MI5. You need to be careful, brother. This is good. But who else have you told about this? Only you, I swear. I thought perhaps you could ask Sheikh Al Awlaki for his blessing. Storm feigns enthusiasm while learning all he can about Tabakh's plans. He knows Tabakh is MI5's worst fear, a lone wolf terrorist. He dreads to think what would have happened if Tabakh revealed his plans to someone else. But now he will be taken out of action before he gets a chance to act. And Storms getting a taste for his new life as a spy. It's six months later, February 2008, and Storm is driving through Yemen near the City of Attack. On one side of the road, a sea of sand dunes merge into the reddening dusk sky. He reassures his wife, who's in the passenger seat. Not much further, my love. He can only see her cold rimmed eyes, but they look tired. They have been driving for nine hours to meet Anwar Al Awlakhi. Officially, it's just a social call, but for Storm, this trip is essential for his spy work. A few months ago, the CIA learned that Storm was friendly with the radical preacher. So they asked Danish intelligence if Storm could make contact with him. And MI5 reluctantly agreed he could take a break from his UK work. Since Storm was last in Yemen. Al Awlakhi's notoriety has grown. His sermons are linked to terror plots in both the US and the uk. He was recently released from prison, where the Yemeni authorities held him without charge for 18 months. Now Al Awlaki has disappeared into his family's tribal heartlands and the CIA have lost all trace of him. It didn't take Storm long to reconnect. Within days of returning to Yemen, Storm had an invitation to meet Al Awlaki at his new home in the southern city of Attak. Storm drives into Attak and spots Al Awlakhi waiting for them on the street. The cleric's face lights up with genuine pleasure. It is so good to see you, Murad. I have been in dire need of intellectual company. Al Awlaki now dresses like a tribal chief. He wears a Yemeni turban and has a traditional curved bronze dagger sheathed into an embroidered waistband. As they talk, Storm can see prison has made him harder and more bitter towards Yemen's government and America. On entering his house, Faria disappears with Al Awlaki's teenage second wife. Storm turns to Al Awlaki. How is your new wife coping here? Al Aulaki shakes his head. She's not happy. All she wants to do is watch Turkish soaps on television. Storm laughs, but Alalaki remains serious. Murad, Abba, request. Could you find me a third wife? Me? I'm thinking perhaps a convert from the West. I need someone who will share in the hardships of my life here and who can discuss topics intelligently. Would you help me with this, brother? Storm suppresses a smile. Of all the tasks he expected as either spy or jihadist, matchmaking was not one of them. One month later. Euston, London. Storm sits at a conference table in a small room without windows. He's just returned from Yemen after four months. Now he's debriefing representatives from the CIA, Britain's Foreign Intelligence Service, MI6, and the Danish intelligence agency, PET CIA officer Jed takes control. Who's Al Alaki meeting in attack? Who are his supporters? I didn't ask. I told you. Since leaving prison, he's become paranoid. He suspects everyone of being a spy. Jed paces the room. He's a balding man with ice blue eyes and a pair of black cowboy boots poking beneath his suit trousers. The MI6 man, Matt, coughs politely. You did the right thing and not asking, Morton. You shouldn't visit Yemen again for some time to avoid suspicion. There's plenty of work here, finding homegrown terrorists. Jed rolls his eyes Nat's rolling up the druggies. Al Awlaki is the drug dealer. We need to cut the head off that snake and Storm is our way to him. Storm glances at Matt apologetically as he shares his his next piece of information. I had an email from Alolaki just as I write back. He asked if I could bring supplies the next time I visit. Jed perks up. Supplies like what? Storm takes out a scrap of paper from his pocket and reads. A laptop, night vision goggles, solar panels and $20,000 in cash. He's suggesting I could raise it in the mosques here in Britain. Jed looks at Matt triumphantly. What did I tell you? The guy is moving on from just words. We need to be inside his compound. Matt frowns. We can't just send him $20,000 if he gets out. We've been funding terrorism will be flayed alive in the press if it puts a target on Al Awlaki's back. It's cheap at twice the price. As the British and Americans argue, Storm looks at Klang, his Danish handler. Klang just grins as if the disagreement between the two bigger spy agencies is no big deal. But Storm wonders what it will mean for him if MI6 and the CIA can't agree on how to use him. Spying on a well connected radical Al Awlaki in a volatile Arab country like Yemen is far riskier than watching for new threats in England. It's a few months later and in Helsinger, Denmark, Storm arrives for another meeting with his spy handlers. But today only Jed and Clang are in the room. Man not coming? Jed curls his lip. There's no need for our British friends today. We've already agreed the details. Storm wonders if Jed's learned that MI6 had been making a play for his services behind the CIA's back. Ever since the meeting in Houston, British intelligence has been on a charm offensive, trying to persuade Storm to focus on the UK rather than getting sucked into overseas missions for the CIA. They've even hinted that the Americans can't be trusted to look after him. Jed hands Storm a thick envelope. That's the money for Al Awlaki. Tell him you couldn't raise the full amount. Storm looks inside the envelope. I guess you guys won the argument on how much to give him. This is more than Matt told me I'd get. Jed evades the question. Instead, he shifts to the chair next to Storm. Morton did you and your wife ever go on honeymoon? No, I've not had the time during the last two years or the money Then after this trip to Yemen, you should take one on us. Just say where you want to go and I'll make it happen. Stammering out his thanks, Storm feels even more torn. After Jed leaves, he seeks advice from Clang. Feels like I'm being forced to choose between the Brits and the Americans. I don't know what to do, Clang shrugs. I'd go with the Yanks. They pay more. And it's overseas work. It'll be much more exciting than hanging around in Birmingham. Storm agrees, but MI6's warnings that the CIA might not always have his back worries him. One of his jihadi contacts recently said he cut the head off a spy in Somalia. Now the CIA are sending him on his most dangerous mission yet, a trip back into Al Qaeda's Yemeni heartlands to find Al Awlaki. But can he really trust them and his Danish spymasters?
- [40:47]
Narrator/Advertiser
Wondery plus subscribers can binge full seasons of the Spy who early and ad free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app.
- [41:01]
Narrator/Raza Jaffrey
Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell? Email your ideas to thespywhoondery.com from Wandery. This is the first episode in our season, the Spy who Lived Inside Al Qaeda. 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 if a scene or conversation has been recreated for dramatic effect, it's still based on biographical research. We used various sources in our research for this season, including Agent Storm, My Life Inside Al Qaeda and the CIA by Morton Storm with Paul Cruikshank and Tim Lister. The Spy who is hosted by me, Raza Jafre. Our show is produced by Vespucci with writing and story editing by Yellow Ant for Wondering for Yellow Ant, this episode was written by Judy Cooper and researched by Louise Byrne. Pronunciation guidance from Rekka Keirstein and Paula Richardson. Our managing producer is Jay Priest for Vespucci. Our senior producer is Ashley Clivery. Our sound designer is Ivor Man. Natalia Rodriguez is the supervising producer. Music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Fris and Sink. Executive producers for Vespucci are Johnny Galvin and Daniel Turkan. Executive producer for Yellow Ant is Tristan Donovan. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Theodora Leludis and Marshall Louis.