sheer number of messages travelling between the USSR and the various missions worldwide was so great towards the end of the Second World War that Moscow Centre sometimes sent out the same ‘one-time’ pad again. (The cypher officer responsible was apparently shot.)
As the work continued, more and more code names of Soviet agents were revealed – backing up information given by Gouzenko and Bentley – and the team at Arlington Hall were supplemented by British analysts as well as representatives from the FBI.
By no means all the messages were decoded, but enough was revealed to allow investigators to pursue leads. A burned codebook, found on the battlefield at the end of the war, proved eventually to be useful when some of its contents correlated to Venona, but this only came to light nearly a decade after its discovery.
The Soviets were, unsurprisingly, concerned about this work. Elizabeth Bentley mentioned in one of her debriefings that Moscow had been aware to a certain extent of the work going on there as early as 1944. In 1945, they managed to infiltrate an agent, Bill Weisband, into Arlington Hall, whoseidentity was ironically uncovered when the relevant instructions formed one of the Venona documents. However, even after his treachery was discovered in 1950, Weisband was never prosecuted for espionage since both the British and Americans agreed that the Venona project was too valuable to be mentioned even at an ‘in camera’ hearing.
The Soviets could do little about Venona: they didn’t know which messages the Arlington Hall cryptographers would be able to read, so, as Gordievsky said, ‘It was immediately clear . . . that Venona represented a series of time-bombs of potentially enormous destructive force for its agent networks.’
The biggest secret that Moscow wanted kept quiet was its access to American and British research into the atomic bomb. One of the first intelligence messages from 1944 that was decoded, in December 1946, related to code name ENORMOZ – the Manhattan Project – providing the Soviets with a list of the names of the leading scientists working on the atomic bomb. Other messages gave specific details about progress on the development of the device, which the Soviet agents planted at the top secret Los Alamos base in New Mexico hoped would enable their scientific counterparts to maintain parity with the American project.
The main Soviet agent was Dr Klaus Fuchs, a German Communist Party member who had moved to England in 1933. He was brought on board the British atomic bomb project under Professor Rudolf Peierls in 1941. MI5 had been reluctant to give Fuchs security clearance, but eventually he was passed – at which point he immediately travelled to London to offer his services to the Russians! He would later claim that he didn’t know whether he was working for the GRU or the NKGB, protesting that he didn’t realize there was more than one branch of Soviet intelligence.
Fuchs was sent across to America in December 1943, and transferred to the control of another key Russian spy, Harry Gold, to whom he passed numerous details on the bomb,supplementing the material that another Russian spy, David Greenglass, was providing. This would continue throughout the rest of the Second World War, with Greenglass leaving the Los Alamos headquarters in February 1946, and Fuchs heading over to the British Atomic Energy Research Establishment at Harwell, Oxfordshire, four months later.
However, at almost exactly the same time as the Russians were benefitting from Fuchs’ treachery and exploding their own atomic bomb, the Venona transcripts were providing clues to both Fuchs’ and Greenglass’ identities. Fuchs was arrested and confessed in January 1950, while Greenglass admitted his role in June that year. Information that Green-glass provided would prove critical in winding up the Soviet network run by Julius and Ethel Rosenberg (see chapter 4 ).
In addition to cutting off the Soviets’