“ ARE YOU fucking kidding me?”
It was the summer of 2008, and I was in Wayne, New Jersey, standing in a Hooters parking lot with Captain Oleg Kulikov, a New York– based Russian spymaster. For three years, I’d been working for Moscow, trying to prove my worth. I wanted to become a key asset for the GRU, Russia’s military intelligence agency. In return, I wanted a hefty paycheck and thought I’d done enough to earn it. But Kulikov was dithering— and he could see I was upset.
What he didn’t know: I was a double agent, working for the FBI. My mission was to make the Russians believe I was a spy. Which meant I had to show Kulikov that I was tired of his games and willing to walk away.