Safe House
Ekaterinburg, Russia
July 15, 1918
Stephen Morrison gently knocked in the prescribed pattern on the nondescript door of the small cabin located on Ekaterinburg’s outer border. A few seconds later, the door cracked open slightly and Morrison could hear the voice of Homer Slaughter saying, “C’mon in, Commander.” After closing the door behind then and locking it, Slaughter invited his guest to sit down at the small table in the middle of the room.
As he sat, Morrison said, “I’m glad you got the message I had sent. You're right, your team of paid-off telegraph people is very reliable.”
“Indeed they are!” replied the major. “Can I offer you some booze, some real stuff instead of the shit vodka we get here all the time? I brought a bottle of Jack Daniels with me. I thought it might have been a while since you’ve had some.”
“I’d love some, thank you.” The major poured and they toasted. “To the mission,” they said in unison. As the liquor went down his throat, Morrison couldn’t remember when he had had such a delicious drink. “Ahh, it’s been too long!” he said as Slaughter refilled his glass.
Putting down the bottle, Slaughter noticed the smile on Morrison’s face. “You seem pretty damn happy tonight, Commander.”
“Oh, it’s nothing really. I was just sitting here, thinking how wonderful it is to hear English spoken and to speak it myself. You know, for so long in the prison camp, I worried I would forget how. I forced myself nightly to think in English and, hell, I even talked to myself when I was in solitary confinement to stay proficient.”
The major grinned and again thought to himself how much he admired this man. They then got down to business. “I assume you read my message,” stated Morrison. “You realize the other four prisoners — you know, the doctor and the others — well, they have to be considered expendable.”
“I agree. Especially under the circumstances.”
“I spoke with Yurovsky after I met with the guards. They already have a plan for the executions. They are planning on taking them all into one of the cellar rooms and killing them there. I inspected the room with him. It’s not very big. As I mentioned in my telegram, I seriously doubt that I can get the family out. There are just too many guards involved. If I try to cut back the number of executioners, it will immediately arouse suspicion that something is wrong. Major, I’m afraid we may not be able to pull this mission off. It will be impossible to get the family out of there by myself. You did let your superiors know this, right?”
“Yes, I did,” replied Slaughter. He said nothing for a few seconds and his face remained impassive. “Hmm, this is not good. The Allied command is really looking for a person to rally all the forces; they had their plans pinned on the Tsar getting out. Tell me, Commander, do you think it’s possible to get even one person out?”
Morrison thought for a second before replying. “As I mentioned in my message, probably the easiest one for me to work with would be the son. I think that possibly I could control the situation enough to attempt to rescue him. I think that a best-case scenario would be if I can get one of them out, he’d be the most logical candidate. Unfortunately, I don’t see how it can be the Tsar. There’s no way he can get out of that room alive, even with me in control of the situation as much as possible. Did you communicate my concerns up to the chain of command? What did they think?”
Slaughter lit a cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke. He offered one to Morrison, but he declined. “I did hear from General Graves, who in turn was in touch with the Brits as well as our American in charge. When they heard the exact situation at Ipatiev House, they were quite discouraged, I will admit. They concurred with you in that they didn’t see how a rescue would be possible given the current situation. It’s funny, but your proposal to rescue one of them was entertained, I understand. In fact, there was discussion of this as a backup plan. Naturally, the first choice would be Tsar Nicholas, but under the circumstances, this option certainly didn’t appear feasible. They actually do think that there would be a lot of value if the heir, Tsarevitch Alexei can be rescued. You know, the chance to use the heir to the Romanov throne as a rallying point for all of the counterrevolutionary forces can be a very powerful tool. They’ve authorized you to proceed with that plan if, in your judgment, it is the best course of action.”
“Did you let them know about the hemophilia?”
“Yes, they now know. Again they’ve authorized you to proceed if feasible.”
“Major, the intelligence that Yurovsky gave me indicated that the White Army and the Czech Legion are no more than three days from Ekaterinburg. You realize that means the mission has to be undertaken no later than tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night!” blurted out Slaughter, causing him to have a minor coughing spasm as he exhaled another cloud of cigarette smoke. “Christ, that’s cutting it mighty close! Are you ready to go, Commander?”
“It looks like we have no choice. Just before I left to come here, I was given a telegram that Lenin himself sent me. As the latest reports indicate, Ekaterinburg is going to fall to the Whites in days. Lenin has now ordered the execution of the Romanovs, under my direction, in no later than forty-eight hours. We have to make our move tomorrow night.” Looking down at the table at the items that Slaughter had placed there, he said, “I see you brought the things I requested.”
“Yeah, I got ’em. You said you carry a Nagant M1895, right? I don’t like that gun. The pull on the trigger on those pieces of crap is like trying to lift weights. I know, I know, you gotta play the part, but you should try this sometime.” Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a new Colt 1911 .45 caliber semi-automatic. “This is what we now issue in the U. S. armed forces.”
Morrison picked up the new pistol and looked at it admiringly. “Semi-automatic?” he asked, handing it back to Slaughter. “I wish I could use something like this.” Pulling out his Nagant M1895, he asked, “Are those the cartridges I requested?”
“Yes. 7.62 caliber blanks. I got you ten of them.”
“Very good,” said Morrison as he picked up a small box and removed a small vial from it “What is this?”
“The command thinks you may well need that. It’s a sedative. The doctor who supplied it said that drinking half the vial will cause one to be quite sedated. Drinking the whole thing will probably knock someone out. They were thinking about the boy. He’ll probably need it.”
Morrison held the vial of yellow liquid up to the light. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to give it to him.”
“Commander, you said you were going to meet with the Tsar one more time. Give it to him so he can give it to the boy. He’s the only one who can logically do it.” As Morrison pondered the suggestion, Slaughter continued. “You said that the original plan was to drive the bodies in a truck to an abandoned mine northwest of Ekaterinburg, off of Koptiaki Road. I’ve obtained a safe house on the road heading northeast of the city, about eight miles up the road. You’ll recognize it easily enough because there will be a red lantern burning in the window as you approach. If you’re able to rescue the boy, that’s where you transfer him to me. Even if it’s not possible to bring the boy out, you meet me there. From that point on, you’re going with me, even if it’s only the two of us. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”
“I’m not sure exactly.”
“You better maintain your English language proficiency. You’re going home, Commander! This comes straight from the top. This is your last covert mission for the government. Yep, Double Eagle is being retired after this mission. I’ve been told to inform you of that tonight. Also, I’m to tell you that the government is grateful for your services. In a couple of weeks, you are going to be back in the United States. Christ Almighty, how long has it been, sir?”
“Nearly thirteen years. You know, Major, there are complications, such as my original mission.”
“I’ve been told to inform you not to worry about things like that. These issues are being addressed as we talk. Not to worry, you are definitely going home. And I, for one, definitely feel that this calls for one more drink.” He filled both of their glasses and then raised his. “To Double Eagle’s last mission!” They both downed their drinks and he asked, “You know, Commander, I know a lot about your original mission and some of the other details, but I have to ask you, where did you learn to speak Russian like a native? I mean, you pass so easily.”
“Actually, I was born in Russia, in Perm. I didn’t move to the United States until I was eleven years old.”
“Tell me, why the hell do they think you are this Moryak character?”
Morrison smiled and said, “That’s a long story. Why don’t I save that for sometime after tomorrow night? Then we’ll have all the time in the world to talk.”
“It’s a deal!” The men continued to talk for another hour and one more time went over the details of the mission. As Morrison prepared to depart, Slaughter stood and shook his hand. “Good luck, Commander. I hope you’ll be able to pull this off. Remember, I’ll be in the cabin with the red lantern burning in the window. Once you and, hopefully, the Tsarevitch get there, we’re heading home!”
Morrison smiled at him and simply said, “I’ll be there.”
* * *
Two days earlier, Mansfield Cumming prepared a message for Sidney Reilly after reviewing the report from Major Slaughter. He felt quite disappointed when he learned that rescuing the Romanovs would not be possible. That was it, then. There would be no more use for the agent called Double Eagle, especially after the coup engineered by Lockhart and Reilly. It was a shame, he noted, that this Major Slaughter seemed to be so admiring of Double Eagle. It would be best if the good major never knew of the instructions that he was about to send Reilly. Certainly, the American in charge will never be told of my decision.
With little remorse, Cumming instructed Reilly to have Double Eagle rendezvous with Slaughter as planned, immediately after the Romanov murders. Slaughter would then arrange to have the man brought to Reilly’s agents, and he would not be informed of what was to follow. Reilly was to ensure that the agent called Double Eagle never made it out of Russia alive. His existence was too big a liability for the British and American governments to deal with. After all, reasoned Cumming, the man has been officially dead since 1905, and he’s now, once again, outlived his usefulness.