Ace of Spies: The True Story of Sidney Reilly

^EIGHT CODE NAME ST1

When Col. Abbott of the British Mission in New York first heard that Reilly had been seen wearing the uniform of a British officer he was ‘astonished’.¹ Knowing of Reilly’s dubious form, he could not understand how such a blackguard had been permitted to join the British Army, let alone be awarded a commission. Another officer, Col. Gifford, had spoken with the equally incredulous Maj. Thwaites, who implied he would be making clear his views to London in no uncertain terms.² Gifford assumed from this that Reilly would be recalled and probably asked to resign. In fact, nothing of the sort happened. Thwaites’ attitude is somewhat strange to say the least in light of the following passage from his 1932 autobiography:

Thwaites goes on to relate how, as a result of his report to London, Reilly was summoned for an interview with C, ‘the mysterious chief of hush-hush work’, and then assigned work firstly in the Baltic and then East Prussia before being dispatched to Russia. It is no exaggeration to describe the comparison between this 1932 account and the reality of 1917 as breathtaking. Weinstein, who in 1932 is described as ‘one of the nicest Russians I know’,⁴ was at the time referred to as an undesirable character and former brothel keeper who was fraternising with the enemy.⁵ Reilly, who is also referred to in the most complimentary of terms in 1932 was, of course, given an even blacker report back in 1917.

Neither, it must be said, does Thwaites’ version of recruiting Reilly sit comfortably with the account given within the telegrams exchanged between SIS headquarters in London and the SIS New York station during February and March 1918. With Reilly dead and Thwaites’ original reports and telegrams safely out of the public domain, he probably saw little harm in taking credit for the recruitment of Reilly, who in 1932 was on the crest of a posthumous wave of celebrity as the great ‘Master Spy’, featured in strip cartoons and serials in England and on the continent.

Contrary to claims made by countless Reilly writers, there had been no relationship whatsoever between Reilly and SIS before 1918. This is made clear by C’s personal diary, which indicates that Reilly had been proposed as someone who could be helpful to the department by Maj. John Scale, latterly of the SIS station in Petrograd.⁶ C’s diary further reveals Scale to have been liaising with the British Army in Canada and preparing agents with Russian backgrounds or experience for work in Russia.⁷ Reilly had been brought to Scale’s attention shortly after his enlistment by Maj. Strubell, the officer who had dealt with his commission and to whom he had volunteered his services for work in Russia.

While it seems evident that Reilly offered his services as opposed to being approached, his motive for doing so is far from clear. To believe that he wished to leave his wife, his mistress and his comfortable life of prosperity in New York to ‘do his bit’⁸ in the war, as suggested by Thwaites, is naïve in the extreme. After all, Reilly had shown not the slightest interest in doing ‘his bit’ before. Time and again it has been demonstrated that he was not someone who was in any way motivated by patriotism or ideology, but was driven purely by greed and self-interest.

Richard Spence has suggested that Reilly’s departure from New York was a direct consequence of his supposed involvement in the sabotage campaign of Kurt Jahnke,⁹ and that his subsequent RFC enlistment in Toronto was somewhat earlier than indicated by his Military Service Record.¹⁰ From this, and Thwaites’ statement that Reilly ‘undertook work in Russia when Kerensky was dropping to his doom’,¹¹ Spence develops the theory that Reilly went to Russia before the Bolshevik Revolution not after it. He pinpoints Reilly’s arrival in Russia as being in early August 1917, when a special RFC training wing arrived there. Although unable to locate a personnel roster, he clearly believes that Reilly was a member of this unit:

However, Air Mechanic Ibbertson recorded in his diary a full list of officers and other ranks who served with him in this unit and Reilly’s name is conspicuous by its absence.¹³ Bearing in mind the fact that the Jahnke sabotage theory is at best built on a foundation of sand, it has to be said that the wider hypothesis put forward by Spence is not substantiated by hard evidence. On the contrary, recently discovered correspondence between Reilly and his mistress Beatrice Tremaine clearly indicates that during the period July–December 1917, Reilly was in fact resident in the city of Toronto, at the King Edward Hotel. Situated on King Street East, the hotel was not only Toronto’s most luxurious, but was situated close to the Royal Flying Corps No. 4 School of Military Aeronautics at the University of Toronto, where Reilly trained prior to his departure for England in December 1917.¹⁴

If one is looking for persuasive coincidences, then surely the revolutionary events that were being played out in Russia during October and November 1917 are far worthier of consideration? Reilly initially enlisted with the RFC in Toronto on 19 October 1917, and was placed ‘on probation’ pending confirmation of a commission.¹⁵ Several weeks before, the Bolsheviks had achieved majorities in both the Moscow and Petrograd Soviets, thus heightening speculation that an armed insurrection might be on the cards. When the Bolshevik takeover actually took place on 7 November that year,¹⁶ Reilly was already undergoing training at the School of Military Aeronautics.¹⁷

Bearing in mind what we already know of his motivations and priorities, what personal reasons might he have had for wanting to return to Russia in such haste? Once the Bolsheviks had taken power it would not have been easy for a non-Russian civilian (as ‘Sidney Reilly’ officially was) to gain entry.

It is most likely that in 1914 Reilly’s plan was to go to New York to make as much money as he could from war contracts while the conflict lasted. Britain was not alone in thinking the war would be ‘over by Christmas’, and he no doubt wanted to make his mark before it ended. It is equally likely that most of his possessions and valuables remained behind in St Petersburg pending his return. The abdication of the Tsar in March 1917 would not have particularly unnerved him for the Provisional Government was resolved to continue the war against Germany as an ally of France and Britain, and many assumed that the Tsar’s overthrow would actually restore Russia’s fortunes on the battlefield. Furthermore, the Provisional Government’s assumption of power would not have had any adverse effects on his ability to re-enter the country or to retrieve money or property lodged there. The threat of a Bolshevik seizure of power was something entirely different. If successful, there was a strong possibility that they would seal off the country to foreigners, and there was no telling what might happen in such revolutionary upheaval to any valuables he had secreted away.

If he actually had a wife and children in Petrograd, as Rodkinson alleged, he may well have wanted to get out to them now that they were effectively trapped. In support of this theory it should be noted that when, in November 1911, Reilly had briefly been under surveillance from Russian counter-intelligence, letters addressed to him had been intercepted from his ‘wife’. She was referred to in the surveillance report as, ‘the daughter of a Russian general living abroad’.¹⁸ This wife could not be Margaret, who, although living abroad, was not the daughter of a Russian general. Neither could she be Nadine, the daughter of a colonel, who in 1911 was living in St Petersburg with her husband Petr at 2 Admiralty Quay, several blocks away from Reilly’s apartment at 22 Novo Isaakievskaya. As another intriguing aside, the Alphabetical Directory of the Inhabitants of the City of St Petersburg, contains the name of one Anna Reile, who appears in the editions for 1913, 1914 and 1916.¹⁹ In addition, it has already been noted in Chapter Three that on enlistment Reilly had to declare the name of the person to be informed in the event of him becoming a casualty of war. That person is recorded as ‘Mrs A. Reilly of 120 Broadway, New York City’. The address was, of course, Reilly’s office, then managed by two reliable associates, Dale Upton Thomas and Alexandre Weinstein. Nadine was then living outside New York and was well provided for by bank accounts he had set up before departing. If Mrs A. Reilly was Anna, the reason she was to be specially taken care of may well have been the children. While his motives for volunteering remain somewhat open to question, the months between his enlistment in Toronto and his return to Russia are vividly, and at times amusingly, recounted in the annals of SIS and MI5.

Thirteen days after the confirmation of his commission as a second lieutenant in the RFC, Reilly’s name appears on a Canadian roster, dated 3 December 1917,²⁰ of officers who would shortly be posted overseas. In Reilly’s case this meant England, where he arrived on a chilly New Year’s Day and booked into suite 32 at the Savoy Hotel,²¹ with lieutenants H.A. Kelly and M. Marks. After a week Kelly was posted to France and Marks to 39 Squadron in Shropshire. Reilly, though, ventured but a short distance to lodgings at 22 Ryder Street, St James.

On 13 January he met Maj. Scale, who had arrived in London from Petrograd on 9 January.²² Scale briefed him on the formalities that must be dispensed with before his application could be taken further. These formalities clearly included the submission of testimonials and supporting documentation, for on 19 January he wrote to Col. Byron at the War Office, as directed by Scale:

Attached, on Vickers headed notepaper, was the following testimonial:

If Owens-Thurston had really never heard anything disparaging about Reilly he must have been one of the few who had not. On the other hand, the letter does dispel the view ventured by Richard Deacon that Reilly was the great adversary of Vickers. Whilst very much batting for Blohm & Voss, Reilly was careful to cultivate contacts and acquaintances wherever he could, particularly in rival firms such as Vickers.

The Russian military certificate Reilly enclosed was dated 8 August 1914 and issued by Maj.-Gen. Erdeli:

On 30 January SIS sent a standard enquiry form to MI5, with Reilly’s the only name listed:

On 2 February MI5 likewise responded to SIS on their standard form of clearance:

There was one MI5 officer, however, who knew more than most about Reilly and would have been able to give chapter and verse about his mysterious background and clandestine activities – if only he had been able. Whether William Melville’s insight would have prejudiced Reilly’s application in any way was, by 2 February, of little or no consequence. Discharged from duty the previous September with kidney disease, Melville died in Bolingbroke Hospital, Battersea, on 1 February 1918,²⁸ the day before the MI5 memo giving Reilly the all-clear was sent to SIS.

By March 1918, MI5’s investigation into Reilly’s background was making little headway.

As a result, an appointment was made for Reilly to attend an interview with C on 15 March at SIS headquarters. While MI5 found nothing detrimental on Reilly, C clearly felt that he needed to know more about the mysterious Mr Reilly. On 28 February he sent a telegram to the SIS station in New York,²⁹ informing them of the task he had in mind for Reilly and asking for full particulars on his reputation and background. None of these enquiries would, of course, have been necessary if Reilly had been a known quantity.

At 10.00 a.m. on 4 March a cable was received at SIS Headquarters from Norman G. Thwaites (NG) in New York, replying to C’s enquiry:

Not to be deterred by this damning reply, C sent another telegram to New York the following day seeking further clarification. In the meantime, MI5 were also asked to keep a tab on Reilly pending the progress of his application. On 9 March they reported that despite placing him under surveillance for three days, ‘nothing was discovered about his movements, owing to the fact that he usually moved about in taxis and it was nearly always impossible to get another cab’.³¹ Conjuring up visions of a Keystone Cops chase, the ‘tailers’ were reduced to catching buses to the destinations Reilly was thought to be heading for – usually the Savoy Hotel. On one occasion they did actually manage to hail down a cab, only to be told by the driver that Reilly’s cab had a more powerful engine and was not worth his while following!

MI5 received a wealth of reports on Reilly’s unsavoury past.

When Reilly made an application to the War Office for intelligence work in January 1918, he was careful to submit glowing testimonials and references.

The watch on his Ryder Street lodgings and interviews with others at the address led MI5 to report that he was ‘very respectable, pays bills quite regularly, lunches and dines at the Savoy and Berkeley Hotels and is always in by midnight’.³²

At 2.20 p.m. on 14 March, New York’s reply to C’s second cable was received at Whitehall Court:

The following day, with no knowledge of the cables that had been criss-crossing the Atlantic on his behalf, Reilly presented himself at 2 Whitehall Court to keep his appointment with ‘C’.³⁴ Meeting ‘the Chief’ was a formality that all potential agents had to undertake, and Reilly was no exception. Paul Dukes, a future friend and SIS colleague of Reilly, gave a rare and unique account of this no doubt awesome experience in his book, Red Dusk and the Morrow. On arrival at Whitehall Court, Dukes was met by a nameless colonel and escorted to C’s office:

MI5’s surveillance of Reilly proved no easy task.

‘The sanctum of the Chief’ was ‘a low dark chamber at the extreme top of the building’. The colonel knocked, entered, and stood at attention. A nervous Dukes followed. He recalled:

Quite what impression C, Mansfield Cumming, made on Reilly is unknown. Cumming himself briefly recorded his impressions of Reilly in his diary for 15 March:

The impression that Reilly was ‘very doubtful’ could only have been reinforced by the arrival of the final cable from New York at 2.25 p.m. on 21 March:

C had a reputation as a risk taker who was willing to go against the grain. There could be no greater demonstration of this than his decision to give Reilly a chance in spite of the volumes of negative feedback he had so far received. The risk, in C’s mind, must have been far outweighed by the vital operational need for reliable Russian intelligence. Negotiations between the Bolsheviks and the Germans had been taking place at Brest Litovsk, on and off, since 22 December 1917, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that matters were now coming to a head. While C was still exchanging cables with New York, the two sides finally signed the Treaty of Brest Litovsk on 3 March. It was a bitter pill for the Russians to swallow, involving a great loss of land and swingeing reparation payments. Lenin, however, was determined to pull out of the war, as he knew his infant regime’s survival depended upon it. For the Germans it meant they could now throw their full weight against the Allies on the Western Front.

The War Cabinet in London, and the Allies collectively, now had two potential choices; they could either make a renewed attempt to entice the Bolsheviks back into the war against Germany, or they could intervene in Russia in the hope that the Bolsheviks could be toppled in favour of a pro-war government. Either way, the need for good intelligence sources in Russia was now more important than ever.

On 22 March, the day after the final cable from ‘NG’ was received, C and SIS colleague Col. Claude Dansey visited a diamond dealer in the City of London by the name of Schuyler and purchased diamonds to the value of £750³⁸ for Reilly to take to Moscow.

That same day MI5 were beginning what they thought would be a routine enquiry to confirm the biographical details Reilly had given on his application. Their memorandum, under Reilly’s name, addressed to the headquarters of Irish Command at Parkgate, Dublin, states:

By 30 March, with no sign of a reply, MI5 sent a reminder memo. This clearly did the trick, for the following day Irish Command responded:

It was a further three days before MI5 alerted Maj. Kendall of SIS to the fact that C’s new agent was not all that he claimed. By this point, the die had already been cast, for Reilly, or ST1⁴¹ as he was now code-named, was aboard the Danish Merchant ship Queen Mary, steaming towards the Russian port of Archangel.