How much did our efforts set back the Russians? Quite a bit, I came to believe. We tied them up. We pinned them down. We learned what they were missing and wanted from us. We didn’t wait for them to stir. We took the fight to them. We followed Terry’s dictum from the day we got the NATOPS manuals. We caught a spy by spying. The agents and I, working together, showed how proactive can be successful when it’s done right. Across our three-year operation, we exposed the techniques, methods, assets, and networks that the Russians employ against a country that is supposedly their ally. Never again can anyone complacently believe that Russia’s so-called diplomats are practicing mere diplomacy. They are spies—some of them, at least. The only question is how many, how often, and where. Whether open-source or closed, the intelligence they are gathering is of value to them and a threat to us.
* * *
Ava and I learned a lesson from our FBI rush-hour-traffic fiasco. I didn’t want to be late for my own intelligence swearing-in. So on the morning of June 5, 2009, Ava and I rode the subway downtown. By now, she was eight and a half months pregnant with our first son. Honestly, it was amazing she could get up and down the subway steps in her Old Navy maternity jeans and stretchy white top. I carried the camera bag and wore my light gray suit: We were headed downtown for serious business, and I thought I should dress the part, even though I was always more comfortable in knock-around jeans, a loose-fitting sweatshirt, and a pair of beat-up Nikes.
We walked slowly from the Chambers Street subway station to 26 Federal Plaza. After clearing security, we rode the elevator—the regular elevator—then walked down the hall to the navy recruiting office, the same one where I’d taken the Aviation entry test and been regaled by the stories of Commander Jeff Jones.
“Come on in,” Juli said brightly when Ava and I got there. Juli was wearing her usual khakis, and her dark hair was pinned up tightly, like it always was. But there was a genuine warmth coming from her that I had seen only glimpses of before.
“You showed a lot of patience,” she said. “I don’t know too many people who worked for this as hard as you did. You waited a long time for the navy.”
I smiled at that but said nothing. If only you knew what I had to do, I thought.
Before we got started, Juli handed me some paperwork. As I have learned since, almost everything in the military starts with paperwork. She sat me down and began handing me forms to fill out. Medical benefits. Life insurance. A full list of my dependents. I’d have another name to add to that one soon. I’ll admit, even the mundane act of signing navy paperwork felt important—especially when I came to the block that asked for “Rank/grade.”
“Ensign/O1,” I wrote proudly.
Terry arrived after I finished signing, though his trip was a whole lot shorter than ours was: He came down by elevator. He was wearing one of his standard-issue dark FBI suits.
“So they decided to take you, huh?” he said. “They said you had to get some experience, and you did. So what? They had to let you in? Is that about it?”
If strangers had wandered in off the street and overheard any of this, they’d have been certain Terry was a total asshole. I knew it was his way of saying how proud he was.
“I think I’m starting to understand,” he said. “To get into the navy, you have to catch a Russian spy.”
“At least one,” I answered.
“I don’t remember seeing that in the regs,” he said. “But it must be in there somewhere.”
“Thanks, Terry,” I said.
Juli looked up at the mention of “Russian spy,” but she never asked for a fuller explanation. Frank arrived, and everyone was there.
“You ready?” Juli asked me.
“Let’s do it,” I said, “before someone changes their mind.”
Nothing is ever entirely a joke. I really did have the feeling that at any moment, this could all be snatched away. I certainly didn’t want to risk that.
Juli showed me where to stand, next to a large navy seal on the bright blue carpet. An American flag stood in the corner to my right.
She asked me to raise my right hand. Without referring to notes, she led me through the U.S. Navy Oath of Office, speaking clearly and firmly the whole way.
“I, Naveed Jamali,” she began.
“I, Naveed Jamali,” I repeated.
“Having been appointed an ensign in the United States Navy . . . ”
“Having been appointed an ensign in the United States Navy . . . ”
And I repeated everything else she said: “Do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic . . . that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same . . . that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion . . . and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter—so help me God.”
Then Juli turned to the other three and said: “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the newest ensign in the United States Navy, Naveed Jamali.”
There were only three of them, but they all flashed giant smiles and applauded furiously. I smiled so hard I thought my teeth might crack.
Juli went to her desk and retrieved a framed copy of the commissioning letter that she’d pulled off her computer, the one she’d told me the navy doesn’t usually bother sending anymore. “Here,” she said.
I told Juli how impressed I was that she knew the Oath of Office by heart. She laughed. She was clearly proud of that.
“I want you to promise me something,” she said. “When you get assigned to a unit and you start to issue the oath for reenlistment, please don’t read off a paper. The oath isn’t that long. Memorize it! Reading takes the seriousness and majesty away.”
She had a point, I thought. I liked that she understood the deep importance of joining the military, even if she couldn’t possibly know every recruit’s inspiration, what monumental steps were taken, and what dreams led each individual to this place. I promised her I would never read an enlistment oath as long as I was in uniform.
Ava had taken out the camera and was taking pictures. A picture of me with the framed letter. A picture of me in front of the flag. “I need a shot of Naveed and Juli,” she said.
As Juli and I posed together, I noticed Terry scampering away, making sure he wasn’t in the shot. “I don’t want to ruin the pictures,” he said. Even in the safety of the navy office, the agents didn’t like being photographed.
I don’t know how I could have been more grateful or more thrilled. I had set a goal, and I had achieved it. I had picked up where my parents left off—they are real heroes for serving their adopted country—and built on what their twenty years of patience had achieved. I had helped my country and was beginning the next chapter of my life. I was celebrating all of it my way with some of the people who had helped make it happen. This day, this appointment, was what I’d been aiming for.
Now, I was convinced, I could do for the navy what I had been doing for the FBI. Going undercover. Fighting espionage. Officially attached to a program this time. Serving as a full-fledged team member, not someone hanging out there on his own.
“This is gonna be awesome,” I told Juli. “I know it is.”
Anything was possible. Maybe I’d end up in Singapore or Brussels or some coastal nation in Africa like Commander Jones had suggested, or maybe I’d be assigned to Oleg’s old turf, the United Nations.
I had always heard people say, “Try to turn your passion into a career.” I was doing that. And going forward, I wouldn’t be an affiliate with no official connection. I’d be doing it for the U.S. Navy. The double agent, retired, was truly coming in from the cold.
Ava gave me a giant hug. Terry and Frank shook my hand and patted me on the back.
“I really want to thank both of you for everything . . .” I said,
trailing off.
“Listen, Naveed,” Terry said sternly. “You did this. This is your accomplishment. We helped make some introductions. But this is all you.”
He was being nice, but I was certainly proud. I had done something for my country that no one could have expected me to do. I had looked inside myself and found talents I never knew were there. I had stayed strong, stuck with it, and put myself on the line. I had beaten the Russians, helped America, and made some lifelong friends. Now I was heading off on an amazing new adventure. There was only one thing missing. Too bad, I thought, Lino wasn’t here to share what he had launched.
As all those thoughts were rushing through my head and everyone was standing around, Frank gently pulled me aside. “You know that oath you just took?” he asked me.
“Yeah?” I said.
“We take an oath very similar to that one,” he said. “Welcome to the team, man.”
God, I’d been waiting a long time to hear somebody say that.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It turns out that running a counterintelligence operation and writing a book have a lot in common: They both require a team of dedicated professionals. First and foremost, thanks to my brilliant coauthor, Ellis Henican, who helped me tell my story right. As a first-time author, I am extremely grateful to the team at Foundry Literary + Media, who helped shape the project from the start: my agent, Hannah Brown Gordon; foreign rights agent, Kirsten Neuhaus; and agency partner, Peter McGuigan. I am just as fortunate to have been paired with a wonderful crew at Scribner—two excellent editors in Paul Whitlatch and Brant Rumble and a driven publicity posse headed by Brian Belfiglio and supported by Kyle Radler. For smart insights and generous help, I also owe three publishing pros on the rise, John Glynn, Jane Callahan Dornemann, and Roberta Teer. Many thanks to Creative Artists Agency, especially to Michelle Weiner and Zach Nadler, for giving the story a life far beyond the printed page. Lastly, thanks to my lawyer, Loan Dang, for her tireless efforts on my behalf.
While I can’t use their real names, I am forever indebted to the FBI agents who watched over me: Ted, Terry, and Lisa. They are true professionals whose daily duty is nothing short of keeping our country safe. I feel honored to have known them and lucky to have worked with them.
Transitioning from amateur double agent to uniformed member of the military was a huge culture shock for me. Luckily, I had excellent mentors and friends to help me through. This project would never have come to life if my good friend and shipmate Jake L. hadn’t encouraged me to write about my experiences and introduced me to my agent. Deep thanks also to navy recruiters Lino Covarrubias and Juli Schmidt, who helped me achieve my dream, and to my navy mentors John B., Tony A., and Mark W., who showed me that being a great leader is synonymous with being a great teacher. One of the unintended benefits of joining the navy was meeting some friends whose humor and support have cemented lifelong bonds: John W., Charles A., Dan M., Chris F., and Kris C., among a blessedly long list of others. There is also Doug K., a man who describes himself as “the Hispanic George Clooney” and I call a friend, mainly because the alternative is far, far worse.
The book was helped immensely by two extraordinary technical advisers: Frank Figliuzzi, former FBI assistant director for counterintelligence, and Captain Gary Barron, reserve naval intelligence community lead. Those two know everything.
Thanks to Alice and Stuart Brent for all their thoughts and suggestions, and to Nancy, Mark, Alice, and Adam for their friendship. Finally, thanks to my parents, Claude and Naseem Jamali, for launching this long adventure by bringing the Russian into our lives in the first place.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Photograph by Carol Weinberg
NAVEED JAMALI has spent more than a decade in the technology management field. After his successful run as a civilian double agent, he joined the U.S. Navy as a reserve intelligence officer, and he continues to serve. These days, he lives with his wife and two sons in New York. He has no intention of traveling to Russia any time soon.
* * *
ELLIS HENICAN is a newspaper columnist, TV political analyst, and the author of several New York Times bestselling books.
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Certain names and identifying characteristics have been changed.
All statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed are those of the author and do not reflect in any way the official positions or views of any U.S. Government agency. Nothing in the contents should be construed as asserting or implying U.S. Government authentication of information or endorsement of the author’s views.
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How to Catch a Russian Spy Page 28