Ace of Spies Read online

  If Reilly had actually written an autobiography,19 or authorised a biography, the story told would almost certainly have closely resembled that which appears in Robin Bruce Lockhart’s Ace of Spies. This is hardly surprising, given the fact that a significant part of this book is based upon the anecdotal stories Reilly told his friends, colleagues and acquaintances, particularly Capt. George Hill.

  In essence, Ace of Spies is Reilly as he would like to have been seen by posterity. According to this story, he was born into a minor aristocratic landowning Russian family, in or near Odessa, and christened Georgi. His father was apparently a minor aristocrat and a colonel with connections to the court of the Tsar himself. Georgi and his older sister led a privileged life, being educated by tutors. To retain an air of mystery around this story, Reilly was always careful never to divulge the family’s name. At the age of sixteen, Georgi embarked on a three-year course in chemistry at the university in Vienna, where he made the acquaintance of Dr Rosenblum, his mother’s doctor. Here Georgi was a great success, excelling in his studies and living a somewhat debauched life to the full. He also became involved in a socialist political group which led to his arrest by the Imperial Russian Secret Police, the Ochrana. His family used their connections to secure his release, by which time his mother, who had been unwell for some time, had died. It was on the day of his release from prison that his uncle revealed to the assembled family that Georgi was in fact a bastard, the offspring of an adulterous relationship between his mother and Dr Rosenblum, the Jewish doctor from Vienna, who had treated her.

  Unable to come to terms with the shame of being a bastard, he disowned his family, adopted the name Rosenblum, faked his death in Odessa Harbour and stowed away on a boat bound for South America. For three years he went from job to job, before being recruited as a cook by three British army officers who were to lead an expedition to explore the Amazonian jungle. All went well until natives attacked the party. In typical melodramatic style, Rosenblum grabbed an officer’s pistol and with expert marksmanship fought off the natives single handed. As it turned out, one of the three officers, Maj. Fothergill, was a member of the British Secret Service and rewarded him with a cheque for £1,500, a passage to Britain, a British passport and a job with the Secret Service. As compelling a story as this is, it totally fails to stand up when subjected to scrutiny.

  Over and above the fact that the British Secret Service did not exist in the 1890s, birth records kept by the State Archives of Odessa Region contain no mention of a boy by the name of Georgi whose father was a colonel, for either 1872, 1873 or 1874.20 No Dr Rosenblum is listed in the Vienna City Censuses during the 1890s,21 and neither the University of Vienna nor the Vienna Technical University have any record of a student from Odessa, born in the relevant time period, studying chemistry.22 Furthermore, newspaper and archive records in both Britain and Brazil fail to mention any Amazonian expeditions during the time period in question, neither are any references to be found to British army officers or to a Maj. Fothergill.23 Such findings are hardly surprising, for Reilly’s family were neither Russians nor aristocrats.

  Abram Rosenblum was born in the Grodno gubernia around 1820.24 He and his wife, Sarah, were the first of their family to leave Poland to settle in the Kherson gubernia, in which Odessa is located, in the early 1850s. His elder brother, Jankiel (Jacob),25 married Hana (Henrietta) Bramson26 in Lomza in the Bialystok province in 1840. Their sons Zeev (Vladimir) and Gersh (Grigory) were born in the province in 1843 and 1845 respectively.27 Grigory married Perla (Paulina), a reputedly attractive girl some seven years younger than himself, who hailed from a well-to-do family in Kherson. By all accounts their marriage was ‘strained’. According to later family trees, they had three children, Mariam (Maria), Shlomo (Salomon – the future Sidney Reilly) and Elka (Elena).28 Family speculation, however, raises the possibility that Grigory might not have been Salomon’s father. According to one account, Paulina had an adulterous liaison with a close relative of Grigory’s who was more of her own age. Another alludes to Paulina leaving her husband and returning to the south. Whether Paulina and Grigory were reconciled at a later date is uncertain. These rumours perhaps suggest that although the story Reilly told George Hill about his origins is essentially fiction, it would be wrong to dismiss every aspect of it as a fabrication. The rumour of Paulina’s infidelity certainly seems to strike a chord with the part of the story in which Georgi finds out that he is the product of an adulterous affair between his mother and Dr Rosenblum. If this speculation has any substance and Grigory was not, in fact, Salomon’s father, then who was?

  Grigory’s brother Vladimir has been put forward as a possible candidate, largely, it would seem, on the basis that he was reputedly a doctor. A serious dispute apparently arose between the two brothers during this approximate period, which ultimately led to them breaking off contact with one another, and thus giving credence to this theory. Vladimir was, of course, older than Grigory, which does not fit in with the plausible view that the father was of a similar age to Paulina. If, as we have already seen, there was no Dr Rosenblum in Vienna, was there possibly one in the vicinity of Odessa who might be another candidate for Salomon’s natural father?

  Odessa was an important naval and military district at this time and the services had their own doctors, many of whom lived in the Odessa region when they were not on active duty. Although no Dr Rosenblums are in evidence in the early/mid-1870s, Russian military archives reveal a Dr M. Rosenblum of 24 Marazliyevskaa Street, Odessa, who qualified in 1879. His military service file reveals him to be none other than Mikhail Abramovich Rosenblum, the son of Abram Rosenblum, and therefore Grigory’s cousin. Born in Kherson, some ninety miles east of Odessa in 1853, he was one year younger than Paulina.29 Mikhail must therefore be considered a serious candidate for the identity of the ‘close family relative’ who might possibly have fathered Salomon.

  A recent discovery, while not providing conclusive proof, does make a very persuasive case in favour of this theory. Among a collection of family photographs unearthed in Odessa during May 2001 was one in particular, which was considered at first sight to be of Reilly himself during his teens. It was, however, later established that the picture was of one Boris Rosenblum, the son of Mikhail Rosenblum.30 When this photograph is compared with one of Reilly at approximately the same age,31 the likeness is profound. If Mikhail Rosenblum was Reilly’s father, then the likeness is uncanny in the extreme, bearing in mind that they had only one parent in common, not two. In the belief that hypotheses raised by investigation and research should be subject to independent analysis, the phototgraphs were presented to the forensic imaging expert Ken Linge BA, MSc, FBIPP. Linge, one of the UK’s leading experts on facial mapping and a veteran Old Bailey forensic witness, explained that on the basis that the human face and its features are effectively a unique genetic fingerprint, it is now scientifically possible to examine genetic similarities and determine the odds of two people being related. The results of computer analysis using morphological, anthropometric and biometric techniques found numerous and significant similarities between the two faces, which led Linge to conclude that, ‘in my opinion the persons depicted on these images are almost certainly genetically linked’. In terms of whether they shared a common parent, Linge described the likelihood as, ‘a strong possibility’ (Linge’s computer analysis appears in full on the author’s website, www.sidneyreilly.com).

  The hunt for documentary evidence of Reilly’s birth has, thus far, remained elusive,32 although new evidence revealed later in this chapter strongly suggests Kherson, the home town of Mikhail and Paulina Rosenblum, to be his place of birth. Although this would mean he was not born in Odessa itself, it is still the most likely place for him to have grown up. Reilly’s ability as a linguist may have been inherited from the multi-lingual Mikhail Rosenblum, or could equally have resulted from being brought up in such a cosmopolitan city as Odessa. By the mid-1880s the Russian-speaking population of Odessa constituted some
49.3% and Ukrainian speakers 9.4%. The remaining 41.3% of the population spoke an amazing forty-nine different languages.33 Germans settled in Odessa in their tens of thousands, forming the colonies of Bol’shoi Libental, Malyi Libental and Liustdorf. There were also English, French, Italians and Greeks, along with almost every ethnic group represented within the Russian Empire. In short, Odessa was the perfect environment for someone like Reilly who had a natural inclination for languages.

  Reilly’s education, like many other aspects of his early life, has been shrouded in mystery. His OGPU file declares that he attended the 3rd Odessa Gymnasium (grammar school) and proceeded from there to study for two years in the physicomathematics department of the Novorossiysky University in Odessa.34 Unfortunately, no records of the 3rd Odessa Gymnasium exist today. Comprehensive Novorossiysky University records have survived, but contain no record of Reilly entering, leaving or graduating. It is significant, as well as coincidental, that the academic career attributed to him in the OGPU file bears more than a passing resemblance to that of Mikhail Rosenblum.35

  On first meeting his future wife Margaret Thomas, Reilly told her that he had been studying chemistry at a Russian university but had left due to his involvement in a student political group,36 which of course also features in the ‘Georgi’ story he told George Hill two decades later. According to the story he told Margaret, he completed his studies in Germany, although no trace can be found of him in the archives of any German university. However, the Ochrana kept card index records of Russian students studying abroad who were considered to have dissident sympathies or contacts.37 One index card of particular note is that on a chemistry student from Odessa, Leon Rosenbaum, also known as Rosenblatt. These names are significant as the file kept on Reilly by the French Deuxième Bureau lists Leon Rosebaum and Leon Rosenblatt among the aliases he used. If he did spend any time in Germany following his departure from Russia, it would be at this point that he adopted the Germanic name Sigmund in place of Salomon.

  Whatever the reason for his departure from Russia, we know that he left in haste. In addition to the ‘Georgi’ story in which his departure results from the shame of being exposed as a bastard, we also have the possibility that he was involved in a radical student political group. Various other theories have equally been advanced. Michael Kettle, for example, claims he ‘fell violently in love with his first cousin’, which was greeted with horror by the two families who ‘firmly forbade the match’.38 This apparently led him to sever all connections with his family and go abroad.39 Although not mentioned by name, it is clear from references elsewhere in Kettle’s book that he is referring to Felitsia,40 the daughter of Reilly’s uncle Vladimir. Gordon Brook-Shepherd is probably right to reason in Iron Maze that lacking any moral scruples, ‘he would have been more likely to have eloped with the forbidden cousin, rather than tamely abandoning her’.41 In fact, the cousins never lost touch, as we shall see later. Of the two stories, the more plausible is the one given to Margaret Thomas. This view is reinforced by the fact that in 1892 there was student unrest in Odessa. This resulted in a number of the students involved in groups suspected of fomenting trouble being sought by the Ochrana.42

  If Reilly’s outward journey from Russia began from Odessa – and it is only an if – there is no record of a passport being issued to him, under his own name or under any of his known aliases.43 He could, of course, have left legitimately by another route, although his behaviour in the years to follow makes this seem unlikely. To leave the country illegally was very risky, and would only be resorted to by someone with little alternative. It was a criminal offence and could, for someone of Reilly’s age, be perceived as evading compulsory military service. Should he ever wish to return or pass through Russian Empire territory in the future, he would first have to establish a new identity, or risk possible arrest and punishment. Like many other exiles before him, Reilly headed for France. According to his Deuxième Bureau file,44 he used the aliases Rosenblatt and Rosenbaum while residing in Paris during 1894–95.45 Paris was not only a centre for Russian exiles of radical persuasion, but also the largest Ochrana operational centre outside Russia itself. In Paris, Rosenblum no doubt made the acquaintance of a good many Russian political exiles. However, any affinity or attraction on his part to the anti-Tsarist émigrés was more than likely a reaction against the anti-Semitism of the Tsar’s autocratic regime than any positive identification with an alternative political creed. It would be a great mistake to believe that he had any strong ideological views or loyalties in the accepted sense, either during this period or at any other time in his life. His prime motivation lay not with ideology, but with money and the pleasures it could bring. Indeed, the illegitimate pursuit of money would seem to be the reason for his disappearance from France after little more than a year.

  It was generally assumed by solicitor Arthur Abrahams,46 who later became acquainted with Rosenblum in England, that his sudden arrival in London in December 1895 was the direct result of him having dishonestly come into a sizeable sum of money in France and having to leave there post haste. Indeed, four decades later Yan Voitek (alias Alexander Matseboruk), a Russian émigré residing in Paris, contacted Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service volunteering to supply information on Reilly’s criminal past in exchange for passage to England. While SIS rejected Voitek’s overtures, he later related his story to Nikolai Alekseev, a Parisbased journalist. According this account, Reilly and an accomplice were responsible for attacking two anarchists on board a train, relieving them of a substantial sum of money in the process. Until now, this story has remained uncorroborated. However, a detailed investigation by French researcher Michel Ameuw, concluded in spring 2003, unearthed documentary evidence confirming Voitek’s story. From this, contemporary French press reports of the robbery were tracked down. According to the 27 December 1895 edition of Union Républicaine de Saône et Loire:

  A dramatic event occurred on a train between Paris and Fontainebleau… on opening the door of one of the coaches, the railway staff discovered an unfortunate passenger lying unconscious in the middle of a pool of blood. His throat had been cut and his body bore the marks of numerous knife wounds. Terrified at the sight, the station staff hastened to inform the special investigator who started preliminary enquiries and sent the wounded man to the hospital in Fontainebleau.

  The report went on to relate how, on the afternoon following the attack, 26 December, the man had briefly regained consciousness and been questioned by the public prosecutor’s department. Apart from revealing that he was a thirty-seven-year-old Italian citizen by the name of Constant Della Cassa, he was unable or unwilling to give them anything more than an elementary account of what had happened to him. According to Della Cassa he had been attacked at Saint-Maur by two men. He refused to say how much cash had been stolen or whether he was alone in the compartment at the time of the attack. The public prosecutor’s office were certainly of the view that it had been a sizeable sum due to the fact that 362 francs had been left behind by the attackers. A ticket found in his jacket pocket indicated that he had boarded the train at Maisons-Alfort. Although Della Cassa gave no description of his attackers, the two men had been seen alighting the train at the station after Saint-Maur.

  The following day, 28 December, Le Centre reported that Della Casa, of 3 rue de Normandie, Paris, had died from his wounds in Fontainebleau Hospital. The report also stated that he had been identified by police as an anarchist. Although an enquiry was immediately set up by the French authorities, it failed to shed any further light on the robbery or lead to any arrests in connection with the crime. By the time Le Centre announced Della Cassa’s death, at least one of the culprits was already on his way to England. London was an obvious destination, where émigrés from Europe were welcomed as refugees, in keeping with Britain’s tradition of providing sanctuary for victims of political persecution.

  Rosenblum’s most likely route from Paris would have been the boat train service from the Gare du Nord t
o London, via Dieppe and Newhaven. According to the 1895 timetable, the ferry Tamise departed from Dieppe at 1.15p.m., bound for Newhaven. The London & Paris Hotel would therefore have been among his first sights of England. It would be another decade before any meaningful controls were placed on entry to the UK by foreign nationals, and he would therefore have passed unhindered through the quay-side customs point and proceeded by rail to London.

  Being well supplied with money and being a creature of habit, Rosenblum would more than likely have spent a short period in a comfortable hotel before finding a more permanent residence. We know from local government records that he moved into Albert Mansions, a newly completed prestigious apartment block in Rosetta Street, Lambeth, in early 1896.47 He was also able to acquire business premises, albeit just two rooms, at 9 Bury Court, in the City of London, from where he established ‘Rosenblum & Company’.48 Ostensibly a consultant chemist, Rosenblum was, to all intents and purposes, a patent medicine salesman who went to extraordinary lengths to acquire a cloak of professional respectability for himself. Within six months he had succeeded in being admitted to the Chemical Society as a Fellow,49 although it would take a further nine months to gain a fellowship of the more prestigious Institute of Chemistry.50

  Sigmund Rosenblum’s entry in the Institute of Chemistry’s Register of Fellows, where he elevated his Paddington address to ‘Hyde Park’.

  In order to have gained a fellowship, he would not only have to have demonstrated degree level knowledge of chemistry,51 but would also have needed the support and sponsorship of other Fellows. Circumstantial evidence indicates that Reilly set about gaining this. We know, for example, that his neighbour at Albert Mansions, William Fox,52 had been a Fellow of the Institute of Chemistry since 1889, and that another Fellow, Boverton Redwood, was a member of the Russian Technical Society, of which Rosenblum was also a member. A further Russian connection with the Institute of Chemistry, albeit an indirect one, was another institute member, Lucy Boole, the sister of the novelist Ethel Voynich (née Boole).