Paul Simpson - A Brief History of the Spy

The KGB still had another agent in place: Staff Sergeant Jack Dunlap, the chauffeur to the chief of staff at Fort Meade, who offered his services to the Soviet embassy in Washington in 1960. He became a source of instruction books, manuals, and conceptual and engineering designs for the cypher machines, but he found it hard to deal with his double life, and committed suicide in July 1963. His treachery was only discovered a month after his death.

By then, though, the KGB had other problems to deal with, as the early years of the sixties brought some of their longest-serving agents’ careers to an end.

There are many ways in which spies’ careers come to a sudden halt: sometimes they’re caught red-handed, carrying out the missions set by their bosses; other times tradecraft errors, either their own or mistakes made by other people, lead to their capture. But probably the worst way to be taken out of action is through betrayal, particularly if it’s by one of your own.

The KGB suffered a number of such setbacks at the end of the fifties and early sixties following assorted defections to the West. Once the FBI, MI5 or the other Western counterintelligence agencies got hold of the information, they would pursue every lead until as many possible Soviet agents were identified. Sometimes this would take time. Unless defectors were particularly well placed, they were unlikely to possess exact details of particular agents, but usually they provided sufficient clues to enable the authorities to put a group under surveillance and then eliminate them from the investigation.

Polish Lieutenant Colonel Mikhail Goleniewski juggled being a triple agent between 1959 and his defection in January 1961, working as head of the Technical and Scientific Department of the Polish Secret Service, reporting to Moscow, and also providing information jointly to MI6 and the CIA, which the CIA described as ‘Grade 1 from the inside’. The Americans called him ‘Sniper’; the British knew him as ‘Lavinia’. Even before his defection, he informed his controllers that ‘The Russians have got two very important spies in Britain: one in British Intelligence, the other somewhere in the Navy.’ Working from the documents Goleniewski had seen, there were ten potential suspects within MI6 (including ‘rising star’ George Blake), but when investigated all appeared to be in the clear — the most likely source of the papers, so the British believed, was a burglary at the MI6 station in Brussels, and that’s what they told the Americans.

When Goleniewski passed along some more information about the naval spy in March 1960, it was the clue that blew open a complete Soviet spy network, known as the Portland Ring, after the naval base from which the secrets were being extracted. ‘Sniper’ said that the spy’s name was something like ‘Huiton’: this correlated with one Harry Houghton, who was at the time working in the Underwater Weapons Establishment at Portland, Dorset, and fitted the other information provided. What followed was a classic example of counterintelligence at work.

Houghton was followed by MI5 operatives (known as Watchers) on his monthly visit to London with his girlfriend, Ethel Gee. There they watched him hand over a carrier bag in exchange for an envelope. MI5 followed the man Houghton had met, whom they believed was a Polish intelligence officer, but hit a snag when they learned that the car he drove was registered to a Canadian importer of jukeboxes named Gordon Arnold Lonsdale. At Lonsdale and Houghton’s next meeting, the Watchers overheard Lonsdale say he was heading to America on business; before he left, he deposited a parcel at the Midland Bank. MI5 opened the parcel, and discovered a treasure trove: ‘The complete toolkit of the professional spy,’ according to case officer Peter Wright. The materials identified Lonsdale as a KGB agent.

Lonsdale was followed on his return to the UK in October, and MI5 discovered he was staying with a New Zealand couple, Peter and Helen Kroger, in the London suburb of Ruislip. The Krogers and Lonsdale were monitored until their arrest in January, shortly before Goleniewski was going to defect.

Far from being innocent booksellers, the Krogers were in fact long-term Russian agents, who, then going by the names of Lona and Morris Cohen, had been part of the Soviet penetration of the Manhattan Project. They had fled to Mexico when the Rosenbergs were arrested and then established a new cover in the UK a few years later. When MI5 raided their home, they found everything from multiple passports to a high-speed radio transmitter and short-wave receiver.

Lonsdale, alias Konon Trofimovich Molody, had joined the NKVD during the Second World War, and had adopted the identity of the deceased Gordon Lonsdale in 1954 when he entered Canada. As well as sending copious material to Moscow from his agents, Lonsdale’s natural business acumen meant that he was actually making a profit for the KGB!

In addition to Houghton, Lonsdale was running a spy inside the Germ Warfare Research Centre at Porton Down (87 miles south-west of London), as well as Melita Norwood, a seemingly innocent secretary who worked at the British Non-Ferrous Metals Research Association. Norwood had provided atomic secrets to the Russians during the Second World War, and would continue to work for the KGB until her retirement in 1972. Nicknamed ‘The Spy Who Came In From the Co-op’, she was acclaimed as one of the KGB’s most important female assets, and remained undetected until Vasili Mitrokhin defected to the West in 1992.

Lonsdale was sentenced to twenty-five years in jail, but was exchanged in 1964 for Greville Wynne; the Krogers were exchanged in July 1969 for a British anti-subversive held by the KGB. Houghton and Gee received fifteen-year sentences, although they were released in 1970, and married the following year.

The other KGB spy exposed by Goleniewski’s testimony was indeed George Blake, who had evaded suspicion when ‘Sniper’ first mentioned the existence of the mole. Blake, whose real name was George Behar, had joined MI6 in 1948, after studying Russian at Cambridge. He was posted to Seoul in South Korea the following year but was captured by the invading North Koreans. Blake was interrogated by MGB officers, who were allowed access to prisoners of war by Chinese intelligence, and by the time he was repatriated to Britain at the end of the Korean War, he was a Soviet agent. Whether he changed sides because of natural antipathy to the British system or because he was a true Manchurian Candidate and was brainwashed by the Chinese is open to debate: in 2007, he said he wasn’t a traitor: ‘To betray, you first have to belong. I never belonged.’

Blake’s importance to the KGB can be judged by the fact that even though he warned Moscow about the tapping of the phone lines in Berlin in Operation Gold, they allowed that operation to proceed rather than risk blowing his cover. He was posted to Berlin, where he was in a position to betray numerous British and American operatives, as well as helping to identify the CIA’s man in the GRU, Pyotr Popov. Blake would later admit that he didn’t know exactly what he handed over to the KGB ‘because it was so much’.

As a result of Goleniewski’s debriefing by the CIA after his defection, it was clear that Blake was the mole, and he was arrested in April 1961 when he was summoned back to London from a training course in the Lebanon. J. Edgar Hoover’s reaction to the news was atypically understanding: ‘After all, Christ Himself found a traitor in His small team of twelve.’ Sentenced to forty-two years, Blake escaped from Wormwood Scrubs prison in 1966 and fled to the Soviet Union, where he was awarded an Order of Friendship by former KGB head Vladimir Putin in 2007. At that point Blake was still taking an active role in the affairs of the secret service, according to the head of the Russian SVR, the successor to the KGB.