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: