Infiltration tactics: how Ukrainians are drawn into Russian espionage work

The story of Oleksandr Rushchak, a native of Berezove village in Zakarpattia Oblast, offers a glimpse into this world. What started as a search for quick cash turned into a betrayal of his homeland, though there’s more to his story that sheds light on how Russian intelligence operates among Ukrainians.

Rushchak, who spent much of his life in prison, was living in Sievierodonetsk in the Luhansk region when he was approached by Russian intelligence shortly after the war began. It all started simply: in the Telegram app, a Russian operative using a pseudonym offered him “easy money.” Given his criminal record and financial difficulties, the offer was tempting, and he agreed.

The work started small. Rushchak’s first payment was for photographing license plates on military vehicles. Soon, though, the requests grew more complex, evolving from simple photos to gathering intel on the locations of Ukrainian military units and equipment.

Later, for a bigger payday, Rushchak was asked to persuade a friend, who claimed to be involved in the Neptune missile complex project, to share schematics of the missile’s radar head. Rushchak’s friend handed him a drawing, which Rushchak then passed on to the Russians.

Neither Rushchak nor his Russian handlers knew the entire operation was monitored by Ukrainian intelligence. The schematics Rushchak delivered were a decoy, complete with hidden tracking devices that enabled Ukrainian operatives to trace the path of these “secret” materials all the way to Russian intelligence centers.

Rushchak was arrested and convicted of treason, and he’s now back behind bars.

An officer with the callsign “Bridge,” representing the “I Want to Go Home” project, shared Rushchak’s story. This initiative, launched by the Defense Intelligence of Ukraine, the Security Service of Ukraine, the parliamentary ombudsman, and the Coordinating Headquarters for Prisoner of War Treatment, has two aims: help bring Ukrainians home from captivity and counter Russian recruitment.

Bridge says that the project also provides a way for Ukrainians already collaborating with Russia to stop “under specific terms through a form available on the project’s website.”

Detecting traitors is quiet work, but it’s essential. Military expert Mykhailo Samus explains that the Kremlin systematically undermines Ukraine by destabilizing it from within, often through hired agents.

“The Kremlin’s goal is to create tension in Ukraine across various divides: ethnic, religious, cultural, linguistic, between the public and the government, or between the president and the military,” Samus said.

Bold and reckless

In August 2022, Oleksandr Shkatov, a resident of Sarny in Rivne Oblast, told his ex-wife he had participated in a Russian missile attack on a Ukrainian military facility.

Before the full-scale invasion, Shkatov worked as a delivery driver for a bread factory. Later, he was recruited by Russian intelligence to report on military equipment and firearms stored at an artillery depot in Sarny.

His boast to his ex-wife was his undoing; she reported him to Ukrainian law enforcement. Shkatov was eventually sentenced to 12 years in prison.

The Russians are unlikely to care about losing Shkatov, Bridge says, explaining that Russian intelligence is shifting towards high-tech and digital espionage, though they still rely heavily on agents, often treating them as “disposable.”

“Our project is somewhat like the U.S. witness protection program, but with key differences,” Bridge said. “We’ve already had cases where individuals realized their mistake and ceased working with the enemy by reaching out to ‘I Want to Go Home.’ We guaranteed their safety, and things ended well for them.”

Disposable agents

Several Russian agencies are involved in recruiting Ukrainians, Bridge explains, including the FSB, the Main Intelligence Directorate of the Russian Armed Forces, the Foreign Intelligence Service, and so-called “ministries of internal security” in occupied areas of Donetsk and Luhansk, which are essentially FSB units.

The recruitment process can be lengthy, as agents try to identify a target’s “weak points” by learning their concerns, associations, and problems. In 99% of cases, Bridge notes, Russian agencies exploit financial or professional hardships.

The initial contact might be masked as a chat with an acquaintance, or more commonly, an anonymous message on social media—Telegram is the most-used platform.

“Most agents—better described as collaborators and traitors—start with small tasks,” Bridge explains. They may be asked to get someone’s contact details, track a vehicle’s route, or share the location of a checkpoint or military unit. These tasks seem easy and safe, and payment for completing them typically ranges from $50 to $100 in cryptocurrency, although often, they don’t pay up.

Once these new spies get used to the risk and see the “easy” money coming in, recruiters move them on to more significant tasks.

Teenagers recruited to burn cars are a separate story. Bridge explains that recruiters tell them they won’t face charges due to their age. The teens pick “target” cars, get approval from their handlers, set them on fire, and send photos to confirm the job. But the truth is, Bridge says, that they rarely receive payment, and both the teens and their families end up bearing the consequences.

In reality, most recruited Ukrainians are rarely compensated, Bridge says. “It’s the practice of disposable agents.”

One example is Artem Yermyshkin, a native of Luhansk. At the start of Russia’s invasion, he joined the “Vityaz” illegal armed group in the self-proclaimed Luhansk People’s Republic. Later, the FSB recruited him for a high-stakes task: entering Ukraine from the EU to assassinate a top Ukrainian special forces officer. His handlers promised $100,000 for completing the mission.

Instead of taking on the risk himself, Yermyshkin enlisted a partner to do the work, passing along instructions and payments.

Yermyshkin’s expenses, documented by investigators, included about $270 for a mobile phone and surveillance, another $270 for an illegal Makarov pistol, and $620 as his partner’s reward.

On June 17, 2022, Yermyshkin’s Russian handler gave him the green light for the assassination attempt. Yermyshkin relayed the order to his accomplice, who received a 250,000 ruble advance (about $2,500) while Yermyshkin himself took a 50,000 ruble cut ($500).

Although the payout was modest, Yermyshkin hoped for bigger rewards down the line.

He was arrested in Kovel while crossing Ukraine’s border, unaware that Ukrainian intelligence had been tracking his every move, even in Russia.

The court sentenced him to 12 years in prison for treason.

Stay vigilant

The “I Want to Go Home” project website now lists nearly 300 stories of “agents” serving long prison terms. Bridge hopes these cases drive home a clear message: any act of espionage or collaboration will be punished.

“Everyone who works with the enemy will be found,” he says. “Their handlers will discard them, and they’ll forever be seen as traitors by their own people.”

Bridge advises Ukrainians to be cautious when strangers show unusual interest in personal or confidential details. “If someone you barely know suddenly wants to know specific things about your life, it’s a warning sign—they may be trying to recruit you. This is especially true if they ask about military, state, or political topics or probe your vulnerabilities,” he warns.