Victoria Street
London England
November 1909
Mansfield Cumming already knew that his new offices at 64 Victoria Street were going to be inadequate. He would have to bide his time and lobby for more space in the near future. After all, he had been delighted to be named the man in charge of this latest evolution of the intelligence services for His Majesty’s government: the Foreign Service Bureau, soon to be called MI6. The workload was astounding, but he also found it invigorating. It seemed that he was barely making a dent in his workload. Yes, lobbying for more space would have to wait.
Now in his third week on the job, he noted that on this morning he had an appointment on his schedule with William Melville of the War Office Intelligence Division. Cumming knew that Melville had been running the majority of overseas intelligence operations for the past several years. Melville had, in fact, been instrumental in lobbying for the creation of a permanent intelligence office. He had continued as the head of the Special Section, whose specialty was pursuing German spies. This morning Melville was scheduled to turn over all of his files on foreign intelligence operations. Cumming, eager to review them and learn the breadth of England’s overseas clandestine operations, had awaited this morning with great anticipation.
Precisely at 10:00 A.M., Cumming’s secretary announced that William Melville was sitting in the foyer for his appointment. Cumming rose and walked into the foyer, greeting Melville cordially. One of Melville’s assistants stood next to him, pulling a small cart carrying two packing crates. “My files,” indicated Melville as the three men entered Cumming’s office. After unloading the crates in the corner of the office, the assistant left and the two intelligence officers sat down. “How goes it, Mansfield?” asked Melville politely.
“Very well, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate these files. It certainly looks like you have been quite busy these past several years.”
“Indeed, I have,” replied Melville. “I have a file for virtually every operation we’ve undertaken and even for planned operations that we considered but never carried out. You’ll note that each folder has a code name and a date. The folders are in sequential order by date. Some of the agents listed in these files are still active with us and are indicated by an asterisk. When you read these, please feel free to give me a ring if you have any questions, and we’ll discuss them.”
“Excellent,” responded Cumming as he stood up and walked over to his small bar located on top of a black safe. “Can I offer you a drink, William?”
“Have you ever met an Irishman who refused you yet?”
“You’re quite right!” Cumming chuckled as he poured single malt whiskey into two tumblers. “A toast!” he proclaimed. “To the new Foreign Bureau!”
Melville stood up, his glass raised high. “After all the work, all the lobbying I did to help get this thing off the ground, I certainly will drink to that. Damn right, I will!” Both men downed their drinks and continued their visit, sharing tales of their past exploits as younger men.
Several weeks later, Melville received a phone call at his office from Cumming. The new head of the foreign service requested that Melville come to his office at his earliest convenience. A case file that he had just read had grabbed his attention, and he wanted to discuss it with Melville.
When Melville arrived, he and Cumming engaged in the usual small talk and banter. Finally, Cumming got down to business. “William, last night I read one of the old files. It was from 1905 and called Double Eagle.”
At first, Cumming thought that Melville looked as if he had been shot in the back with a bullet from a high-powered rifle. After staring blankly for a few seconds, he finally spoke. “My God,” he said, “I haven’t thought about that for a while. I suppose you can say I put that one out of my mind.”
“It is incredible that His Majesty’s government would actually be involved in a plot to kidnap or kill a foreign leader,” said Cumming as he looked down at the file in front of him. “President Roosevelt is the only American who knows about this mission, according to this file?”
“Yes, he personally authorized it. You know, I was with Prime Minister Balfour when Russian Prime Minister Sergei Witte pleaded with us to undertake the mission. Balfour would only consent if the Americans were in on it. You have to realize that the Tsar was going to sabotage the entire peace conference. The entire conference was set up, and there was great hope in the world that peace would finally be achieved. Witte told us that the Tsar was never going to agree to any peace plans. So, we had to act. It was only at the last minute, when the Tsar acquiesced, that the plan collapsed. We don’t know exactly what went wrong. We suspected that an insider in Russia betrayed the mission.”
“Interestingly, it was shortly after the whole affair that Witte fell out of favor with the Tsar, as I understand it. The American, this Stephen Morrison, was killed?”
“Yes. We learned that he was hanged at the Peter and Paul Fortress in October 1905. He apparently never cracked and betrayed his cover. A subsequent cover story was created by the Americans to explain his death, which stated that it occurred here in England. He was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery.”
“What about this Sidney Reilly? It says he escaped. He has an asterisk next to his name. He’s still active?”
“Yes. He’s an incredible asset that I know you’ll find very useful. He’s a linguist, and he’s well-traveled and very well-connected. The country doesn’t matter — England, the United States, Russia — he’s got the contacts. Currently he’s got front businesses in St. Petersburg. He does have a weakness, though.”
“What is it?”
“Women. He can’t resist them. I believe he’s been married three times already. He seems to have a proverbial ‘wife’ in every city in Europe. He definitely has trouble keeping his pants buttoned!”
“Interesting,” mused Cumming. “I’m looking forward to meeting this character.” Sitting back in his chair, he asked Melville, “Is there anything else I should know about this Double Eagle case?”
Melville suddenly developed a deadly serious demeanor. “Mansfield, there are only six people in the world other than yourself who know about Double Eagle: King Edward, President Roosevelt, former Prime Minister Balfour, former Russian Prime Minister Witte, Sidney Reilly and myself. Not even Prime Minister Campbell-Bannerman knows about it. It is imperative that no else ever learn about it, ever! Can you picture the international ramifications? You must swear that the secret remains safe with you.”
Taken aback by the melodramatics, Cumming noticed that Melville seemed uneasy even discussing this case, almost as if he carried a burden of guilt over it. He was right though, he thought to himself. This whole affair is too dangerous ever to be revealed. He smiled at Melville and sighed. “You have no worries in that regard, William. I will take this secret to the grave with me.”
“Good!” blurted Melville. “How about pouring me another whiskey, and we’ll drink to that!”