Ace of Spies (11 page)

While staying at the luxury Hotel Bristol in Berlin in April 1909, Reilly wrote to Blohm and Voss, in an attempt again to undermine Josef Mendrochowitz.

Mendrochowitz was clearly unwilling to give in to Reilly and his demands and was waiting to see if his behind-the-scenes work actually got the results in terms of the boiler order. Unfortunately, the file contains no more correspondence between Reilly and the firm of Mendrochowitz & Lubiensky on this or any other matter. This absence may, in itself, tell a story, namely that having already had a taste of Reilly’s business methods, the firm had no further associations with him from that time on. This episode also contrasts sharply with Robin Bruce Lockhart’s argument that Mendrochowitz offered Reilly a fifty-fifty partnership in the firm, and that Reilly was effectively running the firm in all but name by 1911.
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Lockhart further states that Reilly ousted Lubiensky as Mendrochowitz’ partner and replaced him with a banker named ‘Chubersky’,
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yet not a single reference to a Chubersky or Shubersky is to be found anywhere in the company’s records or indeed those of Blohm & Voss. On the contrary, they show Lubiensky playing a key role for many years to come.

Mendrochowitz’ chagrin is understandable because, if Reilly’s demands were met, his earnings from the transaction would be comparable with Mendrochowitz’ own. What, then, was Reilly actually doing for Blohm & Voss to warrant such rewards? Rapid industrialisation coupled with a massive naval rearmament programme created a heaven-sent opportunity, not only for Russian firms but also for those in Britain, France and Germany. Competition for contracts was little short of cut-throat and almost any means, fair or foul, were sanctioned to gain an advantage over a competitor.

Kurt Orbanowsky, a Blohm & Voss engineer who spent considerable time in St Petersburg negotiating with Russian officials about shipbuilding contracts, wrote several hundred pages of reports back to the company in Hamburg, which provide a most revealing insight into the role Reilly played.
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It would seem that Reilly’s main function was to oil the wheels of business, working primarily behind the scenes, something at which he had always excelled. As a master of intrigue and corruption in its many forms, Reilly was clearly someone whose services would be invaluable in the cutthroat market place that existed in pre-war St Petersburg.

Orbanowsky’s reports are peppered with references to Reilly, who clearly has a pipeline into the Ministry of Marine. On 28 April 1909,
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for example, Orbanowsky reported that ‘Reilly thinks he will know the day after tomorrow whether the Programme discussions will be postponed’. In another report a year later, it is again clear that Blohm & Voss were receiving inside information from Reilly via Orbanowsky:

… the gentlemen have not yet decided which type of ship they should choose. I will have the opportunity to talk about this with Reilly… it would be desirable if they chose to order a smaller number of ships of higher quality because we have the greatest experience in the building and profitability of this type of ship.
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The modus operandi for one such as Reilly would appear to be something along the lines of identifying potential opposition and spreading misinformation about them and their product. Through a web of political, court and ministerial contacts, listening posts could be established that would pick up news of new contracts, specifications, deadlines, budgets and costings. Of course, this network would need to be supplied with suitable rewards, be they monetary gifts or other favours and services. Such ‘representational’ work would also involve paying journalists and editors to write favourable articles about Blohm & Voss and negative ones about competitors. Reilly had particularly cosy
relationships with the
Novoe Vremia
(New Times) and
Vechernee Vremia.
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Perusal of these, and indeed other, newspapers during this period will bear testimony to the success of such tactics. Under Reilly would be a lower tier of ‘rear-rank’ or ‘background’ men, who would be employed by him on a retainer basis to do the low-level footwork.

In addition to clarifying Reilly’s relationship with Mendrochowitz and Lubiensky and his role in representing Blohm & Voss, the correspondence files also indicate that while Reilly was based in St Petersburg, his business took him all over Europe, where he stayed in style at the best hotels in cities like Odessa, Kiev, Paris, Berlin, Vienna and London.
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His visits to Paris appear quite frequent and were no doubt motivated by two new obsessions in his life – aviation and Eve Lavallière, the wife of the director of the Parisian Théâtre des Variétés.
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The Wright brothers may have been the first into the air in 1903, but it was not until 1909, when French engineers invented the rotary engine,
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that the aviation age dawned. Blériot’s cross-channel flight in the same year kindled the imagination of thousands and before too long an aviation boom was underway. The Farman brothers, Henri and Maurice, quickly established the Farman Aviation works near Paris and set about displaying their aeroplanes at air shows throughout Europe. Despite the pioneering steps taken by the French, they were still, at this stage, very much reliant on German magnetos, which had to be imported.

Robin Bruce Lockhart relates a tale about Reilly’s supposed involvement in obtaining a newly developed German magneto at the Frankfurt International Air Show.
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According to his account, a German plane lost control on the fifth day of the air show and nosed-dived to the ground, killing the pilot. The plane was alleged to have a new type of magneto that was far ahead of other designs. An SIS agent by the name of Jones, posing as one of the exhibiting pilots, enlisted Reilly’s help in diverting attention while he removed the magneto from the wreck of the plane, substituting it for another. According to Lockhart:

Later, Jones made rapid but detailed drawings of the German magneto and, when the engine had been removed to its rightful place in the hangar of the German pilot, Jones and Reilly managed to switch the magnetos once again, restoring the original.
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As with so many of these
Ace of Spies
tales of derring do, the facts tell a very different story. SIS at this point was barely ten months old and could count its agents on the fingers of one hand. None of its agents fit Lockhart’s description of ‘an engineer commander in the Royal Navy who had been working for ‘C’ for some time’. The official exhibition catalogues and guides of the air show equally fail to mention anyone by the name of Jones. The Frankfurt Institute for Urban History contains well over 1,000 pages of material on the Air Show, including newspaper accounts and some 300 original photographs. From these records it is clear that there were no accidents at all during the show involving any aircraft, be they of German or any other nationality.
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This is not to say that Reilly was not at the Air Show or that he had no interest in German magnetos. On the contrary, as a bona fide agent of Bosch, the leading manufacturers of German magnetos, he was enthusiastically promoting their virtues to Farmans and enjoying a good commission into the bargain.

Apart from his growing interest in aviation, patent medicine was a racket never too far from his heart. In 1908 and 1909 he made regular visits to London in order to re-establish the Ozone Preparations Company he had wound down on his departure from England ten years previously. It was during a visit in the autumn of 1908 that he finally took steps to legally change his name from Rosenblum to Reilly. Sandford & Company, the solicitors who made the application on his behalf, had been associated with Reilly since 1896. Although the wording of his petition,
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submitted to the High Court on 23 October 1908, is dressed in the appropriate legal verbiage it is none the less significant:

For all to whom these presents may come, I Sidney George Reilly at present residing at the Hotel Cecil in the County of London – Gentlemen send Greeting. By Deed Poll under my hand and seal and under my then name of Sigmund George Rosenblum dated in or about the month of June 1899 I absolutely renounce and abandon the use of my then birth or initial name of Rosenblum and in lieu there of assumed and adopted the initial name of Sidney and the surname of Reilly and have ever since that date assumed, adopted and been known by the name of Sidney George Reilly.

And whereas the said Deed Poll was never enrolled and has since been lost or destroyed. And whereas I am desirous of confirming the said Deed Poll and of perpetuating and evidencing my change of names by executing these presents and causing them to be enrolled in His Majesty’s Supreme Court.

Now I the said Sidney George Reilly do therefore abandon the use of my said birth or initial name of Sigmund and my surname Rosenblum and in lieu thereof assume and adopt the initial name of Sidney and the surname of Reilly. And for the purpose of evidencing such change of names I hereby declare that I shall at all times hereafter in all records deeds documents and other writings and in all actions and proceedings as well as in all dealings and transactions matters and things whatsoever and upon all occasions use and subscribe the said names of Sidney George Reilly as my names in lieu of the said names of Sigmund George Rosenblum. And I therefore expressly authorise and require all persons whatsoever at all times to designate describe and address me by such adopted names of Sidney George Reilly. In witness whereof I have here unto subscribed my adopted and substituted names of Sidney George Reilly this twenty-third day of October one thousand nine hundred and eight.

It confirms the fact that a much earlier move to change his name by Deed Poll had, ‘never been enrolled and has since been lost or destroyed’. This is almost certainly a reference to the Deed Poll application that was being drawn up on behalf of Sigmund and Margaret in the summer of 1899, which was more than likely
abandoned in the wake of their swift departure from England. It is most likely that he now resolved to make the change of name official in light of his plans to resume business in England. Robin Bruce Lockhart also refers to his return to the patent medicine business in
Ace of Spies.
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According to his version, Reilly entered into a partnership with a young American chemist by the name of Long and launched the company Rosenblum & Long from 3 Cursitor Street. Although he gives no precise dates for this venture, the implication is that the company was in existence for a four-year period somewhere between 1905 and 1911. Lockhart relates that despite a great deal of hard work on Reilly’s part, the company failed to prosper, due in part to Reilly being ‘something of an innocent in business’. The business finally collapsed when Long absconded with £600 and Reilly was forced to wind the company up with the assistance of a solicitor by the name of ‘Mr Abrahams’. The fact that no trace of Rosenblum & Long has ever been found is due to the fact that the business adopted the name he had first used in 1897, the Ozone Preparations Company.

The Deed Poll application to the High Court in October 1908 finally made Rosenblum’s adoption of the name Reilly legal.

A search of City of London records confirms that the Ozone Preparations Company traded for some three years between 1908 and 1910, occupying not 3 Cursitor Street, but the first floor of 97 Fleet Street on a sub-lease from the owner, S.R. Cartwright.
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Reilly certainly had a partner in the venture, William Calder.
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It is most unlikely, however, that he absconded with company funds, as he was involved in other Reilly business ventures in the 1920s. The business was indeed wound up in 1911 by Michael Abrahams Sons & Co., other associates of long standing.

The Fleet Street address was within walking distance of the Hotel Cecil in the Strand, where Reilly occupied a suite whenever he was in London. In Edwardian times the Cecil was England’s largest and most luxurious hotel to which the rich flocked and where foreign heads of state were received. The Savoy next door was very much the poor relation by comparison. Opened in 1896, the Cecil had 1,000 rooms and boasted interiors of multicoloured marble, and corridors with hand-wrought tapestries.
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The adjacent Cecil Chambers housed a number of businesses, which at the time included the British Tobacco Company at No. 86 and a number of its European and Empire subsidiaries. Two decades later Stephen Alley, George Hill, Ernest Boyce and William Field Robinson (all of whom we shall meet later in our story) were to work for the company. In 1908, however, one Basil Fothergill worked at the company’s Cecil Chambers office and was a known acquaintance of Reilly. Fothergill’s father, Charles, was a retired British Army major and may well have been known to Reilly through his son.
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To what extent, if any, Fothergill senior served as an inspiration for the Maj. Fothergill in Reilly’s Amazon story is very much open to debate.