Field Note: Our Man in the Paddock

Most people imagine intelligence work happening in quiet rooms or dimly lit bars. Sometimes it does. Other times, it happens in Florida, in the middle of a Formula One race, surrounded by champagne, sun, and people who look like they belong on the cover of a magazine.

The man I had my eye on was a former executive from a state-controlled company in Russia. He had left both the firm and the country, settling somewhere in Western Europe with his family. On paper, he was interesting. He had been close enough to money and decision-making to know things that might matter. Maybe even something actionable.

When you look at someone as a potential source, you weigh three things. Placement, access, and motivation. Do they know anything worth sharing. Can they reach the people who do. And do they have a reason to talk. With him, all three looked promising. His children were in private schools. He traveled often to the United States. He came across, at least publicly, as pro-Western.

I started building a profile. Travel habits, hobbies, family details, the kinds of places they liked. Nothing classified, just the open-source material that starts to paint a picture if you know what to look for.

Then a message came in. He was traveling alone to Florida for the race that weekend. That was rare. Usually he had his family with him, which complicated things. This time, he would be solo. A crowded event. Plenty of noise. The kind of setting where a chance encounter would look natural.

I had two days to decide whether to make the approach. These decisions are never easy. Timing, optics, cover, they all have to line up. I also had to decide how much of myself to show. Be upfront about the Bureau, or hold it until later. If you wait too long, you risk credibility. If you move too soon, you lose access. The balance is delicate.

Race day came. The air was heavy with heat and sound. Crowds pressed together. Engines roared. I had support from the local field office, who kept eyes on him from the hotel to the track. All I needed was the right opening.

And then it appeared. I was standing near a hospitality tent, talking with someone about sailing, when he turned and said, “You should meet him. He’s planning a trip through the Med.” I looked over and there he was , the man I had been reading about for weeks. Just like that, we were introduced.

Those moments always bring a jolt. You spend weeks studying someone’s movements, their background, their mannerisms. And then suddenly you’re standing face to face, shaking hands, pretending it’s coincidence.

We started light. Sailing, travel, family. I never liked small talk for its own sake, but it works better when it’s real. You do not have to fake interest if you actually care, and people feel that.

We spent most of the afternoon walking the paddock together. He was a guest of one of the sponsors and even introduced me to a few of the drivers. It was loud, chaotic, but the conversation stayed easy.

Eventually, work came up. I told him I was with the Bureau, but that I handled child exploitation cases. That part was a small diversion, enough to keep things comfortable. It worked. We talked about being fathers, about what keeps you awake at night, about how you try to make the world feel safe for your kids. Those conversations matter. The human part always comes first.

When we circled back to his time in Russia, he didn’t say much, but what he did say mattered. He talked about fatigue, about principle, about being done with how things were headed. There was relief in his voice when he said it.

Before we parted, we exchanged contact information. He told me to reach out if I was ever in Europe. A few months later we met again, this time with more trust in the air, and the conversation went deeper.

That’s the thing about human intelligence. People think it’s about the clever lines or the tricks. It isn’t. It’s about listening more than you talk. It’s about giving someone the space to step a little closer.

That skill stays with you. It’s the same whether you’re meeting a potential source overseas or interviewing a witness in Florida. Know your person. Plan your approach. Be real. Be ready when the moment comes.

Most of the time it’s not glamorous. It’s standing in the noise, waiting for the right moment to sound natural. But when it works, it reminds you that in every story, whether it’s a race track, a courtroom, or a boardroom, the first step is still the same. The introduction.