The New Yorker:

From 2009: The real legacy of Soviet spying in America.

By Nicholas Lemann 

Chapman Pincher, the ninety-five-year-old dean of the British intelligence-agency press corps, says that he got his start covering spies in 1946, when, leaving an official tour of a government facility, he happened to sit down on a bus opposite “a small man in a black pin-striped suit and bowler hat.” The man was Fred Brundrett, the deputy to Britain’s chief defense scientist. Brundrett told Pincher that he had admired a book Pincher had written called “The Breeding of Farm Animals,” and he invited Pincher to come see his cattle herd. Before long, Brundrett and other high British defense officials were regularly feeding secret material to Pincher, who, as a defense correspondent for the Daily Express, developed a reputation as a conservative, constantly raising the alarm about spying in Britain by the Soviet Union.

In 1960, Pincher was approached by a man named Anatoli Strelnikov, who said that he was a press attaché at the Soviet Embassy in London. Pincher was always looking for information about the Soviets, and eagerly cultivated him. Strelnikov, for his part, wanted to know what Pincher knew about British military intelligence. A series of mutually advantageous meetings followed. But Pincher also asked the government to check up on Strelnikov, and got the unsurprising news that he was a K.G.B. agent. After each of their meetings, Pincher had a cozy lunchtime debriefing with a British intelligence official—from whom, of course, he was hoping to get even more useful information.

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