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- [00:00]
Raza Jaffrey
Wondery plus subscribers can binge full seasons of the Spy who early and ad free on Apple podcasts or The Wondery app. March 1971 Fulham, west London. Five months before Leland's arrest, in the kitchen of an MI5 safe house, Tony Brooks tries to ignore the noise of the headboard banging against the wall of the bedroom next door. Brooks is a middle aged MI5 officer with a neatly trimmed beard. His latest assignment is to handle Oleg Lelon, MI5's new man, inside the KGB. And it's a job that also requires him to facilitate Lelin's infidelities. The noise coming from the bedroom stops. Brooks sighs with relief and readies the reel to reel tape recorder on the kitchen table. Leland emerges from the bedroom. His blonde secretary, Irina Tepliakova, follows. Her tender smile switches to obvious dislike. On seeing Brooks, Lelin moves to embrace her. She pulls away and stalks out. Brooks turns to Lenin. Right. Shall we start? It's several weeks since Len was turned by MI5. He didn't do it for ideological reasons. He did it because MI5 gathered photographic evidence of his affair with Tepliakova and threatened to expose their adultery. Now Lelin gets to continue his affair in this MI5 flat in return for weekly debriefing sessions. Leland helps himself to a veer from the cupboard. Brooks switches on the tape recorder. Not that he needs to. There's a second tape recorder hidden in the room and it runs continuously. Lelyn leans back in his chair. So what do you want today? More names of operatives in London? Actually, I want to know more about your role. You said you're a captain in Department V. What does Department V do exactly? We specialize in wet operations. Assassinations. Sabotage. Department V has offices in every major capital city. And what are you doing in Britain? I was sent to prepare plans to incapacitate your country in the event of a major crisis or war. Give me examples. One plan is to flood the London Underground at rush hour. Many thousands of people would drown and London's transport system would be left in chaos. Leland watches Brooks for a reaction. He doesn't get one. Lelon shrugs and continues. But mostly I've been investigating landing Spetsnats by sea to wait. What's Spetsnaz? Brooks hasn't heard that word before. No one in the west has. They're special forces like your sas. They will sabotage your nuclear attack warning system. What do you mean? Your radar station. Filingdales in Yorkshire. And you've made actual plans for military landing to attack that location? Yes. They would land by submarine at Heyburn Wyke. It's not far from Filing Dells, and the woods there provide good cover. Brook's face remains unreadable, but inside he's reading. He ran sabotage operations like this in France during the Nazi occupation, but this isn't wartime. The Soviet Union is talking of peaceful coexistence with the west, and Lelin's plans seem fantastical, far beyond normal espionage activities. If his information is real, then the Soviet spies present a far bigger and more immediate danger to the UK than anyone thought. But if Lelin's lying, MI5 could be about to walk into a KGB trap, a trap that could destroy the service's already battered credibility for good People love.
- [04:27]
Gordon Carrera
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- [04:52]
Raza Jaffrey
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- [04:55]
Gordon Carrera
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- [05:54]
Raza Jaffrey
From wondery I'm Raza Jaffrey and this is the spy who in the last episode, MI5 found itself overwhelmed by hundreds of Soviet spies. KGB saboteur Oleg Lelen arrived in Britain to plot destruction, and MI5 used Lelin's affair with Irina Teblyakova to turn him into a double agent. Now MI5 wants to use Lelin to turn the tables on the clock KGB by kicking their spies out of Britain. But to do that, it needs to win round the politicians before Len's double life catches up with him. You're listening to the spy who saved MI5. Episode 2 the Pressure Cooker March 1971 the Foreign Office, London MI5 Director General Sir Martin Furnival Jones reaches for his pipe and waits for Foreign Secretary Sir Alec Douglas Hume to absorb the news. The politician looks pained at all this talk of spies. This new information, can we rely on it? Where has it come from? Bernal Jones pats his coat pockets for his tobacco to buy time. He's not going to reveal that MI5's got a man inside the KGB, let alone Lenin's identity. The Soviets are trying to recruit agents in every part of government. They may already have people in the Foreign Office or listening devices planted inside this very room. The less he reveals, the better. But he still needs to divulge enough to convince Sir Alec the information is credible, despite MI5's own doubts about some of comes from a secret and reliable source. That sources corroborated our own intelligence on the identities and numbers of Soviet intelligence officers operating in our country. That gives us a strong basis to throw them out. We recommend removing a hundred or so of them. Only a hundred? What about the rest? We'd prefer to know who to watch. Also, by holding back and letting the Soviets know that we held back, the KGB will have to assume every intelligence officer that remains here is known to us. That will make them more cautious and therefore less effective. I see. Ser Alec turns to Foreign Office Permanent Secretary Ser Denys Greenhill, where Ser Alec is lean. Greenhill amply fills out his double breasted pinstriped suit. Denys, what are your thoughts on how the Soviets will react to expelling more than a hundred of their spies? Greenhill leans forward in his chair. There's no doubt that the Soviets will retaliate. How strongly is anyone's guess. No country ever expelled this many spies in one go. But our case would be stronger if we could give the public a clear reason for the expulsions. Sir Alec taps his fingers against the polished mahogany desk and turns to Furnival Jones. Can your new source provide anything along those lines? Furnival Jones nods Yes. The Soviets are actively developing plans to carry out sabotage. Sir Alec blinks in shock. On kind of things. Attacks on critical infrastructure, both military and civilian. Greenhill looks disbelieving. That sounds extreme. One plan is to send agents posing as couriers to spread tiny clear capsules of nerve gas throughout this and other government departments. When people tread on those capsules, the gas will be released, killing Them and those who come to help them. Good God. Sir Alec and Greenhill go quiet as they absorb the information. Then Sir Alec leans forward. Are we certain of this? The source is credible. Sir Alec rises and turns to stare out of the window. He'd prefer a diplomatic solution, but it's been three months since he wrote to the Soviet Foreign Minister, asking him to rein in the spying. His letter went unanswered. An unheard of diplomatic insult. Very well. You had better draw up a list of names to expel. I'll draft a proposal for Cabinet. But it's not just me you need to convince. We'd need the Home Secretary on side. The Trade Secretary may pose a problem, and we'll also need the Prime Minister's support. Vernible Jones stands ready to leave, but then Sir Alec turns back around. What are we calling this, by the way? In our correspondence? Greeno replies. Internally, we've given the expulsions a rather jokey name already. Operation Foot. I see. Foot for booting the Russians out. Very good, Furnival. Jones feels relief. After years of pushing, he's finally got the Foreign Office to see the need for action against the Soviet spies. But now they must convince the rest of the government too. A few days later, in northwest London, Siraj Abdul Khadir feels nervous as he strolls through Wembley park, side by side with his KGB handler, Alex. He knows Alex is not his real name. Last time they met, Alex gave him a business card for a man named Oleg Lelin, who he can call in an emergency. Abdul Khadir suspects that Alex is Len, but he's learned not to ask too many questions. He waits for a woman to walk past, then turns to Lelin. I checked those vehicle registrations you wanted. Lelin looks straight ahead and nods. Abdul Khadir wonders why he looks so stern today. Have you contacted Ms. Richardson? Ms. Richardson works at the Ministry of Defense. Leland wants Abdul Hadir to romance her, but Abdul Hadi has been ducking this request for months. No, I haven't contacted her. Why not? I told you. We need the information she can access. I'm married now. I can't be doing such things. And? And I don't want to. You don't get to decide that. What do you mean? Leland stops and turns to face Abdul Khadir. Meaning we know where your wife works and how she gets there. How would you feel if she never came home? No. No, you wouldn't. I thought you were my friend. Shh. Leland begins walking again, pulling Abdulh roughly alongside him. I am your friend. But you must be my friend too, Sirosh. Moscow is pleased with our work, but they need more information about Britain's defenses. And you were going to help me get that information. You must play your part in the struggle for communism if you and your wife are to have a better life. Abdul Qadir manages a nod. What had seemed like an exciting game just two years ago now seems like a nightmare he can't escape. And now his and his new wife's lives may depend on his compliance. It's early summer 1971, and in its offices on Regent street, the Soviet Import Export agency Rasno, is holding a drinks reception for British businessmen. The room is swarming with Soviet trade delegates, many of whom are also kgb. One KGB officer leans against a wall, sipping his whiskey morosely, eyes fixed on the most beautiful woman in the room. He mutters to his colleague next to him. She hasn't left his side all night. His colleague follows his gaze towards Irina Tabyakova. She's standing next to Len, who's chatting to a British sock manufacturer. She's out of your league, comrade. No, she should be out of his too. They're both married. As the KGB officer watches, Len slips his arm around Tepla briefly. She smiles lovingly at him. The KGB officer scowls. It's disgusting. They're flaunting it and nobody says or does anything. Don't stir up trouble. It won't be good for any of us. I'll get you another drink. As his friend wanders off, the KGB officer finishes his drink without taking his eyes off Tepliahova. He scowls again and makes a decision. It's time Moscow knew about Lelin screwing around. The head of the KGB in London might not care, but he knows the center won't be so blase. A few days later. Highgate, London. An MI5 surveillance car drives through the steep suburban streets. It passes a low concrete office block hidden behind locked gates. The Soviet Trade Delegation building. The car turns right into the tree lined Hollylodge Estate. Many Soviet trade officials live here, with two or three families crammed into its spacious smock Tudor houses. They park near Oleg Lelin's home. The only movement is another car further up the street that's pulling out. It's the overnight surveillance team heading home. Now that they've arrived, MI5 keeps this whole area under constant surveillance. But this crew is here to watch Lelin. The female operative at the wheel carefully scans the house. It all seems quiet. A male partner hands her a Thermos flask of tea. Stop Lying for me. Before she can open the flask, shouts, shatter the early morning Peace. The MI5 officers see Lellin storm out of his house. He throws his briefcase into his Hillman Mink's car and gets in. As Lellin starts the engine, his wife races out of the house in her dressing gown. You're a liar. Stop lying for me. His wife jumps in front of the car to stop Lelon driving away. You are being corrupted, Oleg. Think of our son. We need to go home to Moscow. Len leans his head out of the car window. Get out of the way. The MI5 operatives notice curtains twitching in the nearby windows. Len shouts again. You are making a scene. Is that what you want? I don't care. Don't drive away from me. Oleg Lenin reverses, steers around his wife and zooms up the street, leaving his wife shouting his name and sobbing on the pavement. The female MI5 operative starts the car and moves to follow Lelin while her partner reaches for the radio to call it in. They both know this could be a real problem. Lelon has tripped up. Now he has an angry wife and the entire Soviet trade delegation watching and talking about him.
- [17:00]
Gordon Carrera
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- [17:56]
Raza Jaffrey
Hello, I'm Gordon Carrera, national security Journalist. And I'm David McCloskey, CIA analyst turned spy novelist. Together we're the co host of the Rest is Classified where we bring you the best stories from the world of secrets and spy. We have just released a series on the decades long battle between the CIA and Osama Bin Laden and this week we are stepping into the devastation of the 911 terror attacks to understand how Osama Bin Laden was able to carry out such a plot right under the nose of the CIA. It was a moment that changed global politics forever. Shifting the focus of spy agencies away from nation states towards hunting for terrorists and understanding the extremist ideology that drove them. We will then go into the decade long manhunt for Osama Bin Laden which culminated in a dramatic raid. It has compounded Pakistan and 2011, which killed the world's most wanted terrorist. Listen to the rest is classified. Wherever you get your podcasts. May 25, 1971. The Foreign Office, London. MI5 Director General Sir Martin Furnival Jones pours himself more tea and looks down the long mahogany table. Around it are civil servants from several government departments and they're here to decide whether to approve or to kill his plan to kick more than a hundred Soviet spies out of Britain. At the far end of the table is the Trade Department's Permanent Secretary and his face is reddening with anger. We cannot take this kind of economic hit. Soviet reprisals against British exports will be severe. How much damage can Soviet intelligence really do anyway? F.L. jones puts down his teacup. In the past 15 years, the Soviets have penetrated the Foreign Office, the Labour Party, the Ministry of Defense, the Armed Forces, MI6 and more. It's hard to believe the Soviets maintained such a large intelligence operation in our country for no profit. What about our commercial profits? This will cost British businesses millions. The Foreign Office's ample framed Permanent Secretary, Sir Denys Greenhill, intervenes. You really think the commercial risk is so high? Trade between us and the USSR has been stagnant for years. Well, this is not going to help, is it? It's a matter of national security, isn't it? Philip Greenhill turns to the Home Office's top civil servant. Greenhill knows the Trade Department's objections will be overruled if the Foreign Office and Home Office are united. But the Home Office's man looks irritated at being put on the spot. Well, the Home Secretary has a number of reservations about this mass expulsion of Soviet spies. He is sure it will make Her Majesty's Government the laughing stock of Europe. For even though many of these spies entered the country under the last government, a significant number have arrived since the Conservatives took office. Greenhill pushes back. And if it gets out that we chose to do nothing now, if action is to be taken, the Home Secretary would want to be convinced that all diplomatic avenues were exhausted first. No, we've tried. Diplomacy has been ignored. Do we categorically know it was ignored? Furnival Jones fears that political inertia is going to tank his push for action again. But then Greenhill snaps his notebook Closed. Gentlemen. We at the Foreign Office intend to send a memo to the Prime Minister recommending The expulsion of 105 identified Russian intelligence officers. We will propose this happens in October, once talks with the Soviets about the future of Berlin are over. I will note all concerns expressed here today. The Home Office representative sits up. Hold on one minute. This is a matter of Home security. If there's any memo going to the Prime Minister about this, it should come from the Home Secretary. We're happy for it to be a joint memo sent by the Home Secretary. The man from the Home Office looks flustered and having fallen into Greenhill's trap. Yes, well. Ah, well, only on the understanding we have exhausted all other options to resolve this problem. Greenhill nods. Of course. I shall ask the Foreign secretary to send Mr. Gromyko another strongly worded letter. MI5's Furnival Jones resists the urge to smile. The Home Office and the Foreign Office are now behind the plan. And the Trade Department's objections won't deter the Prime Minister. Slowly, the net is closing in on the Soviet spies roaming Britain's streets. The MI5 safe house Fulham, London Oleg Lelen falls back on the bed, clammy with sweat despite the cold summer rain outside. His mistress, Irina Tepliakova, wraps an arm around him. Oleg. Yes, my Erushka? What happens now with us? Leland wonders if he can avoid the question. He knew it would come eventually. Nothing. Debliakova sits up in bed and stares at him, the hurt and confusion clear on her face. What do you mean? One day I will be found out and probably executed. The best thing for you is to go back to Moscow with your husband. Pretend you never knew me. Tepliakova stares at Lelin with wide, terrified eyes. He knows she is only now facing up to the consequences of being blackmailed by MI5. No. It cannot end that way. The only other option is to stay here. Lelon watches her. He knows MI5 will have bugged every room in this flat. But she doesn't. And defection is a shocking idea for her. But my family, my son. I would never see him again. Yes. Why can't we go back to Moscow? We could get divorced and marry. Even if I was never found out. The KGB disapproves of divorce. I'd end up in some desk job, earning a pittance here. We could have a good life. We could be together. Free. Free. They would hunt us. We would always be looking over our shoulder. Lenin shrugs. There are no good options. This is a nightmare. Tehova buries her head in her hands. Hey. We have each other now. Let's live for today. Kensington Palace Gardens, London In a small office inside the Soviet embassy, a KGB counterintelligence officer looks up from the documents on his desk. He's been sent by Moscow to investigate multiple concerns about Oleg Lelin. Come in. An anxious looking member of the Soviet trade delegation enters. You wanted to see me, Comrade? Yes, please sit down. Don't be nervous. I just have a few questions about Comrade Lelen. Tell me, what do you think of him? The trade delegate tries to divine what the KGB investigator wants to hear. He seems to work hard. I don't know him that well. The investigator stares into the man's eyes. But that is not true, is it? You work in the same office. You have gone for drinks together. Are you holding something back? No, no. I just meant we are very different people. I do not like Western living like he does. The KGB investigator nods approvingly. Go on. He likes those decadent nightclubs in the West End and he's always having lunch. The KGB investigator begins making extensive notes as the trade delegate gushes forth with as much incriminating evidence as he can think of. And with every stroke of his pen, his concerns about Leland Mount. Early August 1971. The Foreign Office, London in his office, Foreign Secretary Sir Alec Douglas Hume hands a folded up letter over to the Soviet Ambassador. The Ambassador gives the letter a wary look. What is this? Sir Alec gives the Ambassador a stern look. What is our second formal request? For the USSR to dramatically reduce the number of intelligence officers stationed in Britain. It is to be given to Your Foreign Minister, Mr. Gromyko, as soon as possible. The ambassador reads through the letter, then slips it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. It is a shame we are reverting again to this subject. It would be better to take a more positive attitude to our relations. I would be delighted to. But until this problem is resolved, I regret that we cannot. I have no knowledge of these claims. My staff have clear instructions not to take part in the kind of activities you mention. But I will deliver your letter. As the Soviet Ambassador leaves, Sir Alec knows the Soviets probably won't reply to this letter either. But the British government must keep the moral high ground. For if the Soviets react badly to its its spies being expelled, Cold War tensions could rise to boiling point again. And he will need every bit of leverage to persuade Britain's NATO allies that its move against the Soviets is justified. August 1971 MI5 Headquarters Curzon Street, London in his office, MI5 Director General Sir Martin Furnival Jones raises a concerned eyebrow at Leland's bearded case officer, Tony Brooks, a KGB internal investigator. Brooks gives a solemn nod. Yes. Moscow sent him. Do they suspect Leland's working for us? Lelyns thinks it's his wife making trouble. She suspects he's having an affair, and she's angry enough that she's packed her bags and returned to Moscow. Either way, it's a concern. Lens suggested we expel him. He could then head home with a feather in his cap and patch things up with his wife. He says he'd continue as an agent in place for us there. What do you think? I don't like the idea. It could be a ploy. Once he's back in Russia, he could turn triple agent on us. But even if he doesn't, the pressure is getting to him. It would be 10 times worse in Moscow. He's drinking more, getting worse each session, and his affairs are becoming more indiscreet. Do you think he could hold it together for another three or four months? If he defects or gets exposed now, it could derail Operation Foot. Brooks thinks for a moment. He's under pressure to gather more intelligence about our defensive capabilities. What if we supply him with a bogus agent in the Ministry of Defense to run? It would improve his standing within the KGB and give them a strong reason to keep him in London. Not a bad idea. We'd need to put together some intel for Lenin that the Soviets can verify. It will take a few weeks, but I'll make some calls. Brooks stands to leave, but he still worries about how much time they have. Lelon is starting to crack under the pressure, and he knows from experience that when things go wrong, they go wrong fast. The Lubianka Moscow the counterintelligence officer investigating Len hurries towards the entrance of the KGB's imposing headquarters. An immense granite hammer and sickle looms over the doorway. He hands over his credentials to the guard at the door. The guard slowly checks the document. The kgb. The NB officer only arrived back from London yesterday, but he's already filed his report on Lelin. Now his boss wants to see him. The guard nods and silently ushers him through the doorway. He strides through the busy corridors, proud to be part of this huge organization that works to keep Mother Russia safe. He makes his way to Directorate K, the KGB's counterintelligence department. Enter. The KGB investigator stands, waiting for an invitation to sit. His boss opens the report on Lelon that's on the table in front of him. You think Comrade Len is a security risk? Yes. He drinks excessively, spends outrageously, and is having multiple affairs, not just with English women of use to us, but with wives of other KGB officers. The investigator realizes the invitation to sit isn't coming, and that's not a good sign. His boss frowns. Comrade of Aronin, head of the London Residency, writes in glowing terms of Comrade Leland's work. He mentions none of these concerns. How do you explain this? I can only conclude that Comrade Veronin has chosen not to report these activities. Are you saying Comrade Veronin is corrupt? I cannot comment. This is a most serious allegation against an officer who is highly thought of by Comrade Andropov. The KGB investigator perfectly understands the meaning of the last remark. Comrade Andropov is the head of the KGB and he's not a man to cross. The KGB investigator backs down fast. I do not think Comrade Veronin is corrupt. Then you are guilty of denigrating a brother officer with this report. A I'm sorry, comrade. I made a mistake. The investigator's boss looks satisfied. He closes the file and puts it in the tray where reports go to be filed away and forgotten. August 27, 1971 West London in the MI5 safe house in Fulham, Oleg Lelen opens another can of beer. Lelin's case officer Tony Brooks, sweeps the pile of empty cans off the table and into a bin bag. Brooks pauses and stares at Lelen. Lelen looks back at him. Why are you looking at me like that? I'm wondering how you're holding up. What do you mean? Oh, come on. This profession we do takes its toll. And here you are, caught between the KGB and MI5 trade delegate and spy. Irina and your wife. It's a lot. Lelon scowls and takes a swig of beer. Instead of answering, Brooks presses him again. And what about Irina? Can we trust her? Lelon stares at the beer can in his hand. She loves me, you know. Do you love her? I don't know. I love women. There is another, an English woman she's married to. But Irina, she's different. Maybe I do love her. She trusts me to do the right thing. That mistake. Why is that? Lenin looks at Brooks with disbelief. I am a traitor to my country. Maybe. But you've told me yourself how corrupt everything is in Russia and the kgb. Serving such a regime can't be right. So I should feel proud of destroying the lives of everyone I know. Irina, my son, my wife, everyone who knows me, they will all save suffer because of me. Brooks watches Leland down. The rest of his beer. He can see Leland is fragmenting, losing himself as he tries to maintain the multiple fictions in his life. Brooks just hopes he can hold it together long enough to safeguard operation foot Aug. 30, 1971 just before 1am Him, Oleg, Len and Irina Tabova stumble out of the Celebrity Club in London's West End. They weave past other late night revelers who are crowding the narrow pavement. They turn a corner into the deserted side road where Len's Hillman Minx is parked. Len fumbles as he attempts to unlock the car. They climb clumsily into the car. Tabdiyakova, woozy with champagne, leans back against the bench seat and strokes Len's shoulder as he drives. Are you okay to drive? I'm fine. Leland heads away from Soho and onto Tottenham Court Road. He tries to steady the wheel. He's drunker than he thought. The road seems further away than usual and darker. Leland checks his rearview mirror. Behind them is a police Panda patrol car with its blue light flashing. Len realizes he forgot to turn on the car lights. Tepliakova turns to look at the police car. Oleg, what do we do? Len pulls over to the side of the road. He needs to think fast, but his brain's clouded with alcohol. You cannot be here. Irina. Go. Go find a cab home. I'm the driver. I'm the one in trouble. But go. Deblyakova opens the door and runs off into the night. Leland checks his wing mirror. In it, he sees the policeman walking towards the car. The policeman who will now arrest him and cause a scandal that will anger Moscow, screw up his entire Life, and Scuttle MI5's carefully laid plans. Leland takes a deep breath, but then he breaks into a smile. He might have screwed up, but he's already got a plan to get out of this mess. He just needs to convince Mi5 to agree to it. Wondery plus subscribers can binge full seasons of the Spy 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 Saved MI5. 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. The Spy who is hosted by me, Raza Jaffrey. Our show is produced by Vespucci writing and story editing by Yellow Ant for Wondery. For Yellow Ant this episode was written by Judy Cooper and researched by Marina Watson. Karen Lowe is our story editor and our managing producer is Jay Priest for Vespucci. Our senior producer is Thomas Curry and our sound designer is Iver Manley. Matt Willis is the supervising producer. Music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Frison Sink. Executive producers for Vespucci are Johnny Galvin and Daniel Turkan. 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 Louie.