Pujol switched to the double-agent career track. He figured that by getting in with the Nazis, he'd be able to establish himself enough to prove a natural resource to the British and finally have to let him in. This tenacious son of a bitch was about to be driving Uber AND Lyft.
Pujol somehow convinced some Nazi dipshit that he was a member of the Spanish government that was really picking up what Hitler and his guys were putting down. Though he hated fascists with a passion, he had to approach this meeting like in a job interview when you have to nod enthusiastically when your potential boss says shit like, "We burn the midnight oil here. Play hard. But work harder." Your brain tries escaping this conversation by crawling out of your ear but ends up just blurting something stupid like, "Psh. I don't even play. I only work hard. I Work ROCK HARD." You then try to lean back in your chair to sell your casual commitment to that line, fall backward, land in a coma and wake up a decade later jobless.
The Nazis, however, gave that same bumbling idiot a gig, and Pujol was finally about to become a spy for real. Kind of.