Originally a comment by Your Name’s not Bruce? on Security conscious.

John Kelly tried to limit access to Trump at Maralago but he failed because Trump said no.

Mr. “I-Know-More-About-Everything-Than-Anyone-Else-On-Earth” probably figured he could spot spies because they would be wearing black trench coats and carrying bombs with lit fuses. A man with no theory of mind, who chooses staff because they look the part (rather than being qualified for the position), would think that everyone else hires underlings and minions in exactly the same way. In real life, at a resort, an agent could be a member of caretaking or custodial staff. What matters is access, not rugged good looks, or femme fatale gorgeousity. I’d be amazed if Putin did not have agents in place amongst Trump’s staff well before he entered the White House. He might prefer to have someone on the inside keeping tabs on Trump, rather than having to rely on the self-reporting of the empty-headed toad. (Can you imagine having to debrief Orange Julius? Spare a thought for the poor bastard charged with that job.)

It seems Trump wasn’t too picky about making sure that his employees were even legally allowed to work in the US, meaning he could pay them less. Who better to get into any room than an “invisible” member of the service staff? What better candidate for clandestine work than an unnoticed, underpaid, undocumented immigrant – or someone posing as one – in such a support position? Trump would be looking for a tall, gun-toting, menacing thug with five o’clock shadow*, and completely ignore Maria the maid, Jesus the janitor, or Ivan the electrician. In Trump World, only loser nobodies do joe-jobs like that. Who pays attention to those people? I can imagine a comedy wherein the entire caretaking staff of Mar-a-Lego is made up of Russian, Chinese, and North Korean agents, (mixed in with a few from nervous allies, keeping tabs on the Stable Genius), all trying to stay out of each other’s way. The whole time they’re studiously pretending to dust the furniture or mop the floor; dutifully touching up the paint, watering the plants and changing lightbulbs between taking pictures with their tiny, Secret Spy Cameras. Think of it as a mix of James Bond, “Noises Off” and “Black Comedy.”

* Note that he wouldn’t be looking for a suave, tuxedo-clad playboy, because that’s what the good guy’s secret agents look like.