by Andrew Cook
According to the letter, Reilly saw terror as a measure without which a solution (in terms of ousting the Bolsheviks) was not possible. He also set out for Bunakov a justification for this point of view:
Terror should be directed from a central point, but carried out by small independent groups or persons against individual prominent repre-sentatives of the Soviet government. The aim of terror is always a double one. The first and less important is the removal of dangerous persons. The second and more important is to bring the morass into the movement, to put an end to lethargy, to destroy the legend of the invulnerability of the authority. If there is no terror it means there is no spirit in the movement.3
Going on to anticipate objections to the practicality of his proposal, Reilly continued:
You may say that it is easy to speak of terror when one is safe abroad, but I tell you that I know people who have expended tremendous energy in its preparation (suitable to the present situation and the latest technical improvements) and are prepared to begin immediately the necessary means are placed at their disposal.4
After several further exchanges of correspondence, Reilly wrote to Boyce on 4 April to confirm that:
I fully agree with the board that the simplest and most effective way to gather all the necessary data and to arrive at a complete understanding as to the future operations and improvements of manufacture is for me to come out and to inspect the factory personally.
I am not only willing but anxious to do so and am prepared to come out as soon as I have arranged my affairs here. Of course, I would undertake this tour of inspection only after very thorough consultation with you and Engineer B. Whilst there is no limit to which I am not prepared to go in order to help in putting this new process on the market, I would naturally hate to provide a Roman holiday for the competitors. I think that I am not exaggerating in presuming that a successful inspection of the factory by me and the presentation of a fully substantiated technical report would produce a considerable impression in the interested quarters and generally facilitate to realisation of the scheme.
I am looking forward to your more definite advices which ought to reach me about the 20th inst. And in the meantime I shall do all to make myself free for a quick departure.5
Arrangements were made to sail from New York on 26 August in order to arrive in Paris on 3 September. Reilly and Pepita were met at the Gare du Nord by Boyce, with whom they dined that evening. The following day Pepita left for a few days in Ostend to visit her mother whom she had not seen for over a year. While she was away Reilly met a number of underground contacts and pronounced that he was ‘convinced of the sincerity and potentiality’ of the Trust organisation.
On Pepita’s return they dined with Gen. Kutyepov, who was keen for Reilly to meet the Trust representatives, but went to great lengths to implore him not to cross the Russian border under any circumstances. Pepita quotes Kutyepov as advising Reilly ‘let them come to you – the arrangement has been made most definitely with the people from Moscow centre that they are to come to Helsingfors to see you there’.6 The following day they took a train to Cologne where they had agreed to separate. He was to head for Helsingfors via Berlin, as it was felt his arrival there would be less circumspect if he was alone. Pepita was to head for Hamburg, where she was to await his return. As the Berlin train arrived and Reilly stepped aboard, Pepita had a feeling of foreboding:
A whistle shrilled. I felt Sidney suddenly lift me into his arms. Then he set me down and stepped into the train. I saw his hand waving out of infinite blackness. A lump rose in my throat. I suddenly wanted to cry. Slowly the train gathered speed. I saw the hand waving through the tear mists rapidly receding into the distance. Then it was gone.7
Once in Helsingfors, Reilly sent Pepita a long letter dated Tuesday 22 September:
My Sweetheart,
I had a rotten trip. Sunday we had very bad weather and the little steamer did everything to make the passage very uncomfortable. I was not seasick but felt very headachey [sic] and congested. Yesterday about noon we stopped for a short while at Revel and I could gaze from the deck of the steamer upon the scene of my former exploits… We arrived here about 5 p.m. It was very fortunate that I had wired for a room from Paris. I got the one and only free. I got in touch with E’s assistant (a very intelligent youngster, keen as mustard and most anxious to serve me in every possible way).8
Reilly had by now met his initial contact Nikolai Bunakov (ST28), the former Tsarist naval officer who worked under Boyce and had been, in turn, introduced to the Shultzes (the ‘Californian’ couple). They struck him as:
… a most extraordinary couple. He is just a boy, probably a very fine and undoubtedly a very brave boy, but of the type which you characterise as ‘nincompoop’. She is the head of the concern, and her very long skirt cannot disguise the trousers which she is wearing – she is of the American school-marm type, which, strangely enough, is not uncommon in Russia, very plain and unattractive, but full of character and personality.9
Vyborg, close to the border with Russia, was the rendezvous point where it had been arranged that Reilly would meet the Trust representatives. It was here that he was introduced to two undercover OGPU agents: Alexander Yakushev, supposedly a senior Trust representative from Moscow; and George Syroezhkin. The task now was to entice him over the border and to begin the process of debriefing him.
Yakushev gave Reilly an impressive account of the Trust’s power and influence within the organs of government and sought his guidance on the attitude a Trust government should take on a range of domestic issues. Yakushev later recalled that:
The first impression of him was unpleasant. His bulging dark eyes expressed something biting and cruel; his lower lip drooped deeply and he was too slick – the neat black hair, the demonstratively elegant suit. Everything in his manner expressed something haughtily indifferent to his surroundings. He took a seat in an armchair, carefully adjusted the crease in his trousers, then showed off his new yellow shoes and silk stockings. He began the conversation with world-weary seriousness and a superior tone by announcing that he found it impossible at the moment to travel to us.10
Yakushev asked Reilly how many days he had, retorting that it was a great shame that he had travelled all the way from America, only to stop at the very thresehold which he dare not step across. This intended slight to Reilly’s courage had the desired effect. According to Yakushev’s report:
Reilly thought hard for a moment, then said, ‘You’ve persuaded me. It’s decided, I’m going with you.’ He immediately became alive.11
Although now resolved to cross the border, Reilly still had nagging doubts. This is clear from reading between the lines of a letter he wrote to Pepita shortly before he left Vyborg with the Trust representatives. He entrusted the letter to one of Boyce’s agents, Nikolai Bunakov, under strict instructions to send it to Pepita only in the event that he did not return as planned on 28 September. Bunakov in turn gave the letter to another SIS agent, Harry Carr, who locked it in his safe:
My most beloved, my sweetheart,
It is absolutely necessary that I should go for three days to St Petersburg and Moscow. I am now leaving tonight and will be back here on Tuesday morning. I want you to know that I would not have undertaken this trip unless it was absolutely essential, and if I was not convinced that there is practically no risk attached to it. I am writing this letter only for the most improbable case of a mishap befalling me. Should this happen, then you must not take any steps; they will help little but may finally lead to giving the alarm to the Bolshies and to disclosing my identity. If by any chance I should be arrested in Russia, it could be only on some minor, insignificant charge and my new friends are powerful enough to obtain my prompt liberation. I cannot imagine any circumstance under which the Bolshies could tumble to my identity provided nothing is done from your side. Therefore, if I should have some trouble, it would only mean a very short delay in my return to Europe – I should say a fortnight at the most
. Knowing you I am certain you will rise to the occasion, keep your head, and do all that is necessary to keep the fort as regards my business affairs.
Naturally none of these people must get an inkling where I am and what has happened to me, and remember that every noise, etc, may give me away to the Bolshies.
My dearest darling, I am doing what I must do and I am doing it with the absolute inner assurance that, if you were with me, you would approve. You are in my thoughts always and your love will protect me. God bless you ever and ever. I love you beyond all words.
Sidney12
In order to undertake the journey, Reilly was given a Soviet passport in the name of Nikolas Nikolaivich Sternberg. The border crossing was to be made just south of Vyborg by wading across the Sister River, and passing through a ‘blind spot’ on the Russian side of the river that would avoid the border patrols. Having changed out of his American outfit into a less conspicuous suit, Reilly set off with Yakushev, who later recalled in his report:
We walked slowly, ears tuned to every little whisper. Reilly’s new boots squeaked so we made him wet his soles in a puddle then dug little holes in them with a knife. Moving with stealth and in total silence we reached the banks of the Sister River. Crossing the river took considerable time because Reilly, in addition to undressing and dressing, had to unwind and then rewind the elastic bandages he wore for the enlarged veins in his legs. In pouring rain we approached Peschanoi Station, got out and walked the rest of the way. Then we took the first train to Leningrad.13
It was here, at Syroezhkin’s apartment, that Reilly was introduced to Vladimir Styrne, the Deputy Head of the KRO, the OGPU’s counter-intelligence section, who represented himself as a member of the Moscow City Council. Styrne took the oppor-tunity to fill in a few gaps in the OGPU’s knowledge of Reilly by subtly questioning him from the point of view of a fellow conspirator. That same evening Reilly, Yakushev and a White guard (Mukalov- Mikhaylov) left for Moscow by international sleeping car. After some initial doubts, Reilly now seemed more at ease and back to his old gregarious and arrogant self. From Yakushev’s report, it would seem that the conversation was dominated by talk of Savinkov, who Reilly, with no sense of irony, slated for his poor judgement of people, and for being too fond of women, gambling and comfort. Savinkov’s mistress, Madame Derental, was uncharitably referred to as a ‘stinking Jewess, with a shiny face, fat hands and thighs’ in an echo of Reilly’s earlier scathing remarks about Gen. Poole’s mistress in South Russia.
Pressed for his views on matters of state policy, Reilly was only too happy to oblige. The views recalled by Yakushev are most revealing if not somewhat shocking. As a Jew, albeit one in denial of his roots, he advised that a pogrom was unavoidable, but counselled that the Trust government should not associate itself directly, but call such measures ‘an expression of national feeling’. He advised them to control the Orthodox Church and profit from its inflence rather than trying to abolish it altogether.14
The next morning when the train arrived in Moscow they were met at the station and driven to a dacha in Malakhovka where he met the Trust’s leaders over lunch. After the meal they went to a nearby forest clearing for reasons of security, where a discussion took place concerning the Trust’s funding. Reilly told them that ‘no government will give you money. Today, everyone’s house is on fire. Churchill believes, as I do, in the speedy over-throw of Soviet power, but he is not in a position to supply funds’.15 Instead, Reilly proposed to them a plan to raise money that was, in his own words, ‘crude and will probably repel you’.
The plan was essentially to mount a campaign of raids on Russia’s museums, aimed at robbing them of art treasures, which would then be smuggled to the West and sold by Reilly. This does not appear to have been an ‘off the cuff’ suggestion, as Reilly apparently produced a detailed list which included French masters, Rembrandts, antique coins, engravings and miniatures. Yakushev was less than impressed and voiced grave misgivings about Reilly’s scheme, protesting that this would ‘ruin’ the organisation’s reputation. Reilly merely brushed this off, telling Yakushev that ‘for the sake of money, a reputation may have to be sacrificed’.16 He also promised to supply Yakushev with $50,000 to finance the appropriation scheme as well as an introduction to Churchill, should Yakushev be able to visit England.
As dusk gathered Reilly said his goodbyes and got into the car he thought was taking him to Moscow’s October Station to catch the night train back to Leningrad. As the car entered Moscow Reilly asked if he could be taken to a safe-house in order that he could write and post a letter to his English contact (Ernest Boyce) to confirm that he had actually been in Moscow. This was agreed and they went to the apartment of Eduard Opperput. As soon as Reilly had posted the letter and returned to the car, handcuffs were snapped onto his wrists and the car sped off not to the railway station but the OGPU’s feared Lubyanka building. Before the Revolution, the palatial Lubyanka had been the headquarters of the All Russian Insurance Company. One of the building’s apparent attractions for the Cheka was its cavernous cellars. From the subterranean world below street level no one on the outside could hear the firing squads that during the ‘Red Terror’ had often worked around the clock.
On arrival Reilly was taken to the office of Roman Pilar, who had arrested Savinkov the previous year. Pilar reminded Reilly that he was still effectively under sentence of death from the 1918 tribunal, and counselled that full co-operation was his best policy. By all accounts Reilly kept his composure throughout and other than confirming his own identity refused to answer any questions about the identities of other British spies in Russia. Reilly was also searched, and according to Mikhail Trilliser, head of the OGPU’s Foreign Intelligence Department, found to be in possession of unspecified ‘valuables’ that had apparently been ‘hidden in Leningrad’.17 He was then taken to cell 73 and from then on would be referred to as ‘Prisoner 73’, or simply ‘73’.
The next day, 28 September, the OGPU staged an incident on the border at the very time and location where Reilly and his companions were due to cross back into Finland.
Villagers in Vanha Alakyla heard several volleys of rifle fire. In full view of the Finnish border guards on the other side of the river, a truck arrived and two apparently dead bodies were loaded into the back of the van which then drove away. A meeting of the Trust’s Council was convened in Moscow and was informed that Reilly was one of the two dead. The OGPU was clearly banking on word getting out from this meeting, via the genuine White Russian conspirators involved, back to their contacts in Helsingfors. Pepita, meanwhile, was trying to contact her husband at the Hotel Andrea in Vyborg, where he should have arrived that evening. When he failed to arrive she sent Boyce a telegram on 30 September: ‘No news from Sidney since twenty-fifth. Should have returned today. Hotel Andrea Vyborg expected him yesterday, but wired has not arrived. What steps shall I take? Wire if you have news – very anxious’. Boyce sent a short to the point reply, ‘Have had no news whatever, have telegraphed’.18 The next day he sent Pepita a letter:
Dear Mrs Reilly
I have heard from no one as to Sidney’s condition. In fact I have had no news from that part of the world since I left. Judging from your telegram he has apparently undergone the operation after all. This is rather a surprise to me as I thought the doctors in Paris considered it unnecessary. I suppose further complications must have set in which decided him to have the operation. As I understood it the operation was a simple one but his recovery might take a little longer than was expected. We must not get panicky. I am sure he is in safe hands and everything will be done to make his recovery as speedy as possible. It will not help us to send frantic telegrams. We shall hear as soon as he is able to get about again.19
As Reilly reflected on his predicament in cell 73, he may well have hoped that on learning of his capture, the British government would take steps to have him extradited, or swapped as they had done with Lockhart back in 1918. In this belief he clearly adopted the view
that his best chance of survival was to play for time.
FOURTEEN
A LONELY PLACE TO DIE
Contrary to popular opinion, Reilly was not tortured or subjected to any physical maltreatment by the OGPU. Seventy-seven years later, Boris Gudz, then a twenty-three-year-old OGPU liaison officer attached to Vladimir Styrne, recalled that, ‘no physical methods were used, I can guarantee that’.1 From the very start their approach was clearly one of respect for someone they considered a worthy adversary. Although he made several statements about himself, his background and his activities since he was last in Russia, he would not be drawn on any of the matters the OGPU most wanted to know about. Vladimir Styrne, credited with being one of the OGPU’s best interrogators, duly noted the results of his initial interviews with Reilly:
7 October 1925
I, Deputy Head of KRO OGPU, Styrne, questioned the accused citizen Reilly, Sidney George, born 1874, Clonmel (Ireland), British subject, father, captain in the navy. Permanent residence, London and more recently New York. Captain in the British Army. Wife abroad. Education: university; studied at Heidelberg in the faculty of philosophy; in London, the Royal Institute of Mines, specialising in chemistry. Party: active Conservative. Was tried in November 1918 by the supreme tribunal of the RSFSR, the Lockhart case (in absentia).2
