Oleg Gordievsky strode through Sheremetyevo airport in May 1985 with the confident gait of a man at the pinnacle of his career. He was about to be formally anointed as KGB chief in London. Inside him, as Ben Macintyre tells it, a low terror bubbled. He had been secretly working for MI6 for over a decade. His wife didn't know. His colleagues didn't know. His entire professional life was a performance staged for an audience that would kill him if they saw through it. Gordievsky died this past M...

Oleg Gordievsky strode through Sheremetyevo airport in May 1985 with the confident gait of a man at the pinnacle of his career. He was about to be formally anointed as KGB chief in London. Inside him, as Ben Macintyre tells it, a low terror bubbled. He had been secretly working for MI6 for over a decade. His wife didn't know. His colleagues didn't know. His entire professional life was a performance staged for an audience that would kill him if they saw through it. Gordievsky died this past M...