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Wondery Plus subscribers can binge full seasons of The Spy Who early and ad-free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. August 1943. A station on the Paris metro. On the platform, Noora Nayat Khan battles her way onto the train. Excuse me? Under Nazi rule, there are fewer trains, so it's always a crush to board each one. In one hand, she's carrying the leather suitcase containing her radio equipment.
The case weighs 10 kilos, and that's heavy, especially for a petite woman like her. But the Special Operations Executive trained her to carry it as though it is much lighter. Excuse me. Khan spent the last four weeks playing cat and mouse with the Gestapo. She is the only SOE radio operator left in Paris. Every time she broadcasts, every Gestapo radio detector van in the city starts to hone in on her. So now Khan's always moving.
She can't risk broadcasting from the same place twice, and that means she carries her radio wherever she goes. A late passenger rushes onto the train as the doors close. His momentum barrels him into Khan and he accidentally kicks against the suitcase. The passenger gives her a dirty look and pushes past.
But then, Khan spots two German soldiers further down the carriage that are now looking at her. Her eyes meet theirs. She feels the cold shock of adrenaline rush over her and trains her eyes to look past them. But it's too late. The rifles slung on their shoulders, the soldiers push down the carriage to confront her. Khan tries to calm her pounding heart. Your suitcase. What's in it?
This? It's cinematography equipment. I'm a film student. Khan can't believe how easily the lie has tripped off her tongue. She half expects the world to shift off its axis. Her father spent her whole childhood telling her that the worst thing she can do is lie. Open it. Khan bends down and opens the lid of the suitcase a little way, watching the soldier's faces as she does so.
The lack of reaction convinces her she can bluff it out. Her radio transmitter is state-of-the-art technology. She doubts they've seen one before. She opens it a bit wider. "There, see? Cinematography equipment." The German soldiers look at each other, uncertain. Khan points to the dials and components. "Look! There are the bulbs, the switches. You can see this is recording for the sound." The soldiers stare at the radio transceiver for a moment.
And then one of them nods. "Fine. We thought it was something else." Khan gives them a look of barely concealed irritation and crouches with her back to them to lock her suitcase back up. The soldiers walk back down the carriage and get off at the next station. As they disappear down the platform, Khan collapses into a now empty seat to conceal her trembling knees. It may have taken a lie, but she's still free and still broadcasting.
She just hopes she can stay free long enough to help rebuild the British spiring in Paris. We get support from Dove. Hey, everyone. This is your girl, Kiki Palmer, host of the Wondery podcast. Baby, this is Kiki Palmer. Listen up, because there's some messed up stuff we got to talk about. Currently, race-based hair discrimination is still legal in some states in the U.S.,
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In the last episode, Noor Anayat Khan arrived in Paris eager to help the SOE spy network undermine the Nazi occupation. But within days of her arrival, the SOE's Prosper network was exposed. Now the Nazi secret police, the Gestapo, are arresting its operatives. And London is depending on Khan to keep what's left of the network going until it can get another radio operator to the French capital.
You're listening to The Spy Who Wouldn't Lie, Episode 3, Don't Stand Still. August 1943, Paris. On her bicycle, Kahn stretches out her left arm to indicate as she turns onto the Champs-Élysées. The suitcase containing her radio is secured inside the sturdy box on the front of her bike.
Only the Germans have fuel for their cars, so all around her are other French people cycling through the city. No! Can nearly falls off her bike. She's never told anyone in the Prosper network her real name. They only know her by her cover name, Jeanne-Marie, or by her codename, Madeleine.
Khan looks around for the woman who shouted her name and sees Madame Saumon, one of her family's pre-war friends, waving from the sidewalk. Khan wheels her bike over to her while checking that nobody's watching. "I thought it was you, but you've got red hair now. Madame Saumon, it's wonderful to see you. Shall we talk down here?" Khan guides Saumon to a quiet side street where there are fewer passers-by.
So, Noor, how are you? It's been years. Khan hesitates, unsure whether to tell the truth. But she can't risk word getting out that she's back in Paris. You mustn't call me Noor. My name is Jeanne-Marie now. I'm working for the British, helping the French resistance. Oh my goodness. Please, you have to keep my secret. The Gestapo knows about me. That's why my hair is red. I promise you can rely on me.
Can I do anything to help? Kahn suddenly realizes that even though the Prosper spy network has fallen apart, she's not alone. There are people she knows in Paris, friends from before the war, people who could help. An idea forms. Perhaps she could rebuild the Prosper network with her old contacts. A few days later.
In the sitting room of an apartment in the suburbs of Paris, Kahn's old music teacher, Henriette, hands Kahn a cup of tea and then slowly lowers herself into a chair. I can barely believe that the shy little girl I used to teach on that piano is now a young woman. Ah, I know, I always say that whenever I see you. Kahn smiles at the piano and then back at Henriette. Henriette, I came to see you because I need help.
Could you help me find somewhere to stay? No need, my dear. You will stay here, of course. No, I cannot do that. It would put you in danger. In danger? How? I work for the British, helping the resistance. I need somewhere I could set up a radio transmitter. But that's illegal! The Germans won't even let us listen to the radio now. If they find you, you will be shot. Yes, they have killed several of us. That's why I cannot stay here.
But you have so many contacts in Paris. I just need an empty house or apartment for a couple of days. Henriette's eyes fill with tears of pride. She's amazed at how the timid girl she once knew is now so calm and businesslike in the face of such danger. Kahn looks at Henriette with hope in her eyes. Will you help me, please? Yes, of course, my dear. You surprised me, that's all. Henriette slowly rises from her chair and moves stiffly to her phone to make some calls.
As she opens her address book, she notices her hands are trembling. The Gestapo have already taken some of her other friends. Now she is afraid for Khan too. A couple of days later, Paris. Khan paces the room in a rented apartment and checks her watch again. In less than 30 minutes, she must send an urgent message to London. But this apartment isn't a good place to broadcast from.
Most of the neighbors are officers in the SS, the paramilitary wing of the Nazi party. But she's got nowhere else she can use right now. She moves to the window. The sun is lowering and the streets are emptying ahead of the Nazis' strict curfew. She chews her lip in indecision. It's crucial she makes this transmission. The French resistance plans to blow up a sewer where the Germans are temporarily storing torpedoes for their submarines.
but they need London to airdrop the explosives. If Khan doesn't send the request for explosives tonight, the torpedoes could be gone before the explosives arrive. She decides to take the risk. The first and most dangerous task is setting up the radio's aerial. It is 70 feet of insulated wire and it needs to go outside and up high if she's to have any hope of her transmission reaching London. She opens the window of her ground floor flat.
Just outside, about five meters away, is a tree. She waits until the street is clear and then drops the aerial cable out of the window. She quickly follows it, landing lightly on the ground below. She tries to fling the aerial up into the branches, but it doesn't catch. The cable slithers back down to the ground in front of her. Damn it! Khan whips around at the sound of booted feet behind her. She sees a man in the unmistakable black and grey uniform of an SS officer.
He is staring at the aerial cable at her feet. Khan gulps, but then the SS officer smiles. May I help you, mademoiselle? Khan can't help responding with her own smile. From the change in his expression, she realizes he finds her attractive, and she knows that might just be enough to get her out of trouble. She smiles at the officer even more sweetly. Oh, goodness! Would you? I'd be so grateful, but...
I know I'm not supposed to. I won't tell if you won't. The SS officer loops the aerial over the tree branches as he talks. I also love listening to music, mostly classical. Bach is my favourite. Really? Oh, I adore his Brandenburg concertos. The smiling SS officer finishes setting up Kahn's aerial and Mock salutes her. Happy listening then, mademoiselle. Just not too loud, huh? I won't, I promise. And thank you so much.
Khan waves him goodbye. She waits for him to turn the corner and then moves back inside, chuckling to herself as she radios London for the explosives the French resistance needs. It's a month later, and in the outer suburbs of Paris, Khan is struggling to pedal her bicycle up a steep hill. Halfway up, she stops and dismounts. It'll be easier to push, but the tough journey's worth it.
Her heart swells as she looks up the hill and sees her family's beautiful home, Fasel-Manzel. Her eyes fill with tears and longing to be there again. But as she keeps pushing her bicycle uphill, a car zooms past. The car's full of high-ranking German officers. One of them looks in her direction. Instinct prickles the back of her neck.
She decides to change her destination and pushes her bike into a nearby street where her childhood best friend used to live. Kahn knocks on the door and breathes a sigh of relief when her friend Raymond opens it. Raymond stares at her blankly for a moment, then recognition lights up her eyes. No, my darling friend! She hugs Kahn in delight. Come in, come in!
A few hours later, Raymond is staring at Kahn, wide-eyed, having sat enthralled as Kahn detailed her exploits over the last few months. "'What you are doing is so brave, but you must be careful about who you share this with.' "'I am. You are one of the only people who knows.' "'Well, your secret is safe with me.' "'But tell me, what are you doing here?' "'I wanted to go back home, to Fazil Munzil.' "'Is the Sufi order still there?' "'No, you cannot go there.'
It's occupied by German soldiers now. What? Come, I'll show you. You can see from our window. Kahn follows her friend upstairs and peers out of the window. In the gardens of Fasel Munzel, a group of young German soldiers are mock wrestling. Right where her father used to teach of the need for love and peace, her hands clench at the blasphemy. Raymond puts her arm around her. I'm so sorry, Noor. Kahn's face hardens. Raymond?
"Would you mind if I set up my radio here? I need to receive a message from London." I was hoping to do it from Fasel Manzil. Raymond nods. Khan sets up her radio and aerial and listens to the incoming message from SOE headquarters in London. Message received. Khan decodes it. It's instructions telling her to make contact with two Canadian agents. She didn't know the SOE was sending Canadians into France too, but it's welcome news.
Prosper's Paris sub-circuit is in desperate need of new operatives. Her contacts in the French resistance have already warned that the Gestapo are looking for her and they know her code name: Madeleine. Kahn packs up her radio and heads back downstairs. Raymond is sitting at the kitchen table smoking a cigarette. "You finished?" "Yes. Thank you, I should leave." "You can stay if you like." "No. They will find me if I stay in one place too long."
"Nur, if they find you, will they shoot you?" Karn looks at Raymond squarely. "They will interrogate and probably torture me first, to get my codes and the names of other resistance fighters." "Aren't you terrified? I can't even think about it." "They can do what they like with me. I don't mind. I shan't tell them anything." Raymond looks impressed. Karn just hopes her words are true.
Every Gestapo radio detector van is circling Paris trying to find her. Her description and her codename, Madeline, have been circulated to German soldiers. Every day, more SOE operatives and resistance fighters are arrested, and she knows the danger will only keep rising. Nice. Yes.
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To learn more, visit energizer.com. September 1943. Gestapo headquarters, 84 Avenue Foch, Paris. In a large, airy room that used to be the sitting room of an exclusive townhouse, senior interrogator Ernest Forcht types up his latest report. He's a Swiss-German man with a razor-sharp intellect. Come in. Two Gestapo agents in plain clothes enter and salute.
Forked nods to the chairs opposite him. The two men sit down. Forked picked them because they both speak French and one has spent time in America. "I need you both to attend a meeting where you will pose as two Canadians." "Who are we meeting?" "We are not sure. It is likely to be a courier for one of the SOE's sub-circuit." "The meeting has been set up via the SOE's headquarters in London." Forked leans back and lights a cigarette while savoring the confusion on the agents' faces.
Then he explains: "We are using the radios of captured agents to send false messages to the British. The SOE think they are about to re-establish contact with two Canadian operatives they parachuted in France some time back. But we have those Canadians in custody and we've been using their radio equipment and codes to communicate with the SOE in London."
The SOE believe they are talking to the real Canadians. That's why they arranged this meeting for us. The Gestapo agents grin at the ingeniousness of the plan. And we arrest this courier as soon as he arrives? He or she. Always remember the SOE uses female agents as well, and they are extremely effective. But no, do not arrest them. We are after bigger fish.
The SOE is planning an operation in the north. We need to find the organizer. Dupré. What if this courier suspects something and warns everyone? Isn't it easier to just force the information out of them? No. Torture is time-consuming. These agents are trained to resist for as long as possible. Information comes far quicker and easier if they think you are on their side. Do you understand? Yes, sir. Good. These dossiers have all the background information you need. That is all.
As the two officers leave, Forked wanders over to the window to stare at the tree-lined boulevard below as he finishes his cigarette. The SOE has spent the last two years sabotaging German supply lines, power stations and communications, but now he senses they are on the ropes and he has no intention of letting them get back up again. The next day...
Noor Anayat Khan enters the Café Colisée on the Champs-Élysées and makes a beeline for the cloakroom desk. She's wearing a beret, dark glasses and a white Macintosh. London told her to meet two Canadian agents here and to offer them whatever help she can. The young woman behind the counter looks up from her magazine with disinterest.
Kahn gives the instructed password. "Excuse me, but I think I left my newspaper here." "Which paper?" "Paris Soir." The attendant nods towards a table in the corner. Two young men are sitting there, waiting. As Kahn approaches, the men stand. "Good morning, ma'am. I'm Bertrand. This is Valentin." Kahn relaxes. Their North American accent resembles her mother's. "I'm Jeanne-Marie. What do you need?"
London said you would help us. We've been told to make contact with a Monsieur Dupré for an operation in the north. Kahn remembers that her former mentor, Antelm, was involved in an operation with Dupré before he had to flee back to England. It makes sense that the SOE would send reinforcements to continue the job. I can arrange a meeting for you with Monsieur Giol. I know he's been in touch with Monsieur Dupré. Kahn gets up to leave. She never stays anywhere longer than she needs to.
Someone will leave a message for you with the attendant here tomorrow. You must ask for the time and then say you are a traveller to Paris. I understand. And thank you, Mum. Khan puts her dark glasses back on and heads out the door and back onto the streets. Behind her, the two Gestapo agents, posing as Canadians, exchange smiles. Three days later, Gestapo headquarters.
Ernest Faucht sits on the corner of a desk in the interrogation room and smiles at the broken man in front of him. So, you will make the call, yes? That broken man is Robert Giole. He's a French businessman and an SOE agent. The Gestapo arrested him the moment he showed up for the meeting Kahn arranged with the fake Canadians. He's been repeatedly questioned, starved and deprived of sleep.
Gilles nods at Forked. Yes. Forked smiles at his handiwork. He's convinced Gilles that the Nazis have a double agent inside SOE headquarters who is betraying its French agents, and now Gilles' defences have crumbled. Forked picks up the telephone receiver and hands it to Gilles. You will call the operative known as Madeleine. You will tell her to meet you at the Arc de Triomphe at 10am tomorrow.
Forked nods to the other Gestapo officer in the room who puts on a pair of headphones, ready to record and listen in to the call. As Gilles dials, Forked whips out his pistol and places it against Gilles' temple. Don't give me a reason to use this, Monsieur Gilles. Hello?
Where have you been? I've been worried. You've been out of contact for two days. Did you meet the Canadians? I'm fine. I thought I was being followed, so I decided to lay low to make sure it was all clear. I'm fine.
Let's not talk on the phone about this. We can discuss it tomorrow when we meet. All right. What time? 10 a.m. I'll be there. Forked uncocks his pistol and replaces it into his holster with an approving smile. The trap is set. The next morning, the Champs-Élysées. Kahn stands in the shade behind a bicycle taxi queue and squints across the enormous roundabout in front of her to the majestic Arc de Triomphe towering in the center.
With her stands Viennou, a member of the French Resistance. He too is trying to make out the figures standing beneath the huge structure, and he's worried. Something is not right about this. Why would he want to meet you in an open place, on top of disappearing for two days? Kahn doesn't know what to think. She's sure Gilles would have used one of their code words on the call to warn her if he was speaking under duress. What if he needs our help? I will just go and check it out. No!
If it is a trap, they will be looking for a woman. I will go. Kahn nods. Viennou heads off towards the Arc de Triomphe, weaving through the bicycle traffic and occasional car. Kahn moves to a sidewalk café to wait, but she doesn't even get time to order a drink before Viennou returns. Gilles is there, but there are at least eight Gestapo officers standing near him waiting for you. There's nothing we can do for him now. We've got to go.
Vienor links his arm with hers and they leave the cafe as a couple. But when he begins to guide her into an upmarket hair salon, Khan stops. What are you doing? Changing your hair. Gilles has probably given them your latest description. And those Canadians must have been caught or maybe they were Gestapo. But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is they've also seen you. You need new hair, clothes and shoes and you need them now.
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Be inspired to explore your inner creativity with Viola Davis's memoir, Finding Me. Find what piques your imagination with Audible. New members can try Audible free for 30 days. Visit audible.com slash imagine or text imagine to 500-500. That's audible.com slash imagine or text imagine to 500-500. September 1943. An SOE safe house in Paris. Khan checks herself in the mirror.
She's now a brunette again. She touches her hair. It feels softer than it's been for months. The hairdresser soaked it in lotions and oil so that the brittleness from the endless rounds of dyeing has almost disappeared. The hairdresser has restyled Khan's hair into a fashionable victory roll. She pins her new neat navy blue hat to her hair at a jaunty angle. She steps back to admire the rest of her new outfit. A stylish blue trouser suit with a grey polo neck.
She hasn't worn such an expensive and sophisticated outfit since the war started. She leaves the bedroom. Viennou is sitting at the breakfast table with Khan's own notebook in his hands and a frown on his face. But as she enters, he lifts his eyes and breaks into a smile. Her transformation is remarkable. Not even your own mother would recognize you, I think. At the mention of her mother, Khan's face crumples. I'm so sorry. I just, I wish I was with my mother now. Oh!
Vianor offers her a handkerchief. Kahn takes it, dabs her eyes and recovers herself. "Do you think Gilles has betrayed all of us?" "We must act as if he has. None of us knows how strong or weak we will be in those circumstances. Now, I need to ask. What is this notebook? You carry it with you everywhere. It's where I record all my communications with London." "Then we must destroy it!" "No! The SOE told us to file everything. They were very clear about that in training.
They said it was important to file everything. That doesn't make any sense. If you were captured with this on you, the Germans would have a field day. It could expose us all. We have to burn it now. Kahn snatches the notebook away from Viennou. I am not burning my notebook. My orders are to file everything. Perhaps they meant file it as in filing a news story? You know, when you are transmitting. That makes even less sense. I am not a news reporter.
Khan puts the notebook in her new handbag with a stubborn expression on her face. Viennul relents, unwilling to force her to hand it over. Six days later, SOE headquarters, London. Maurice Buckmaster, head of SOE's French section, looks up from his newspaper as his assistant Vera Atkins enters his office. "Ah, Vera.
You'll be pleased to know you can now make the arrangements for Miss Kahn to get the next flight back home. Oh, thank God. Buckmaster's eyes twinkle at her uncharacteristic outburst. Like him, Atkins regards all the agents as family. But Kahn is a favourite of them both. Yes, it is good news. Bewley has finally got her replacement ready. It's a miracle she hasn't been caught. Yes, she's proven them all wrong, hasn't she?
Six weeks would have been impressive. Three months is more than any of us could have hoped for, from any agent. Atkins checks the calendar on the wall. It's still eight days until the next full moon flight. Don't worry, she's being careful. She said she'll stay off the air for the next few days. Buckmaster and Atkins feel relief. The past few months have felt very dark as the Prosper network collapsed like dominoes and its operatives were hunted down.
But if they could bring Kahn home, that would be a very welcome morale boost. October 11th, 1943. Three days before Kahn's flight home. In the Trocadero Gardens in Paris, the Gestapo's senior interrogator, Ernest Forcht, takes off his coat as the unseasonable heat radiates off the gravel path. He ignores the famous view of the Eiffel Tower to his left. Instead, his eyes sweep the area, searching for the woman he's come to meet.
She phoned Gestapo headquarters a few hours ago, promising important information. He glances to the right and sees a fellow Gestapo officer shadowing him, ready to follow the woman after the meeting finishes. Forked, then sees the woman up ahead. She's a large, young woman sitting on a bench under the shade of the trees, and as arranged, she's holding a flower.
She watches his approach with small frightened eyes that flick to the copy of l'illustration he's carrying under his arm to let her know it's him. Forkt sits next to her. "Are you Renée Garry?" "Yes." "I understand you have some information for us about the British operative known as 'Madeleine'." At the mention of Madeleine, an ugly look of hatred passes over the woman's face. Forkt feels repulsed.
Despite benefiting from it, he despises informants. Most of them are just repaying old grudges. "Yes, I can give you her current address." Falk's interest rises. They raided the address given to them by Gilles, but there was no trace of Madeleine. "But if I give you her address, you must promise me not to arrest anyone else who might be at the apartment." Falk nods, knowing full well the Gestapo will do no such thing. "Anything else you want in return for this information?"
Renée licks her lips, smearing her red lipstick slightly. "Money. How much?" "A hundred thousand francs." Forked tries not to laugh. From Renée's tone, he can tell she thinks it's a lot of money. Sure, it's enough to restock her wardrobe with a few new outfits, but the Gestapo would have paid ten times that to ensure Madeleine's capture.
The Gestapo's agent inside the SOE, Henri Déricourt, has told them Madeleine is leaving on a plane in three days' time. To preserve Déricourt's cover, the Gestapo must arrest her before she arrives at the airfield. But they are running out of time, and she keeps slipping through their fingers. He looks at René. Hmm, you drive a hard bargain. But okay, it's a deal. But you must show me her apartment yourself.
He enjoys Renée's horrified expression. He thinks it's about time she got her hands dirty in her betrayal. October 13th, one day until Kahn's flight home. Outside Kahn's apartment building on Rue de la Faisandrie in central Paris, two Gestapo officers wait in position, watching the front door. Other officers are dotted around in small groups, watching and waiting.
They're all determined to capture Khan. Not only has she been evading them for months, but she's been living right around the corner from their own headquarters for the past few days. It's embarrassing. One of the Gestapo officers narrows his eyes as a woman emerges from the apartment block. Is that her? The woman's wearing a stylish blue trouser suit, just like the one René told them about. But her face is in profile. They cannot confirm it matches the description.
The two Gestapo officers watching the door cross the street to follow her. As they do, they signal to another Gestapo officer further up the street. He begins walking towards them so that he passes the woman. His job is to confirm her face matches the description. And if it's a match, he will give them the signal they need to arrest her. The two Gestapo officers following the woman quicken their stride.
The third officer up ahead moves in, ready to confirm the target and put the agent known as Madeline out of action. 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 third episode in our series, The Spy Who Wouldn't Lie.
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've used various sources to make this series, including Madeline by Jean Overton Fuller. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Indra Varma.
Our show is produced by Vespucci with writing and story editing by Yellow Ant for Wondery. For Yellow Ant, this episode was written by Judy Cooper and researched by Marina Watson. Our managing producer is Jay Priest. For Vespucci, our senior producers are Natalia Rodriguez and Emma Wetherill. Our sound designer is Matt Peaty. Thomas Currie 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 managing producer for Wondery is Rachel Sibley. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Jessica Radburn and Marshall Louis.