Lubyanka Prison
Moscow, Russia
September 1, 1918
As the car approached Lubyanka Square, Joseph Stalin reflected on the events of the past several days and smiled, feeling quite pleased. Circumstances had completely changed, and now his star had begun its ascent. He felt events couldn’t possibly be going any better. It all began two days before, when Lenin gave a speech in Moscow to a group of factory workers. After he finished and the crowd swarmed around him, several loud pops were heard and screaming began. A Social Revolutionary, a woman, had shot Vladimir Lenin three times.
Lenin refused to be taken to a hospital and instead insisted that he be taken to the Kremlin. After visiting him, Stalin learned that the doctors felt that he would survive. It would be a while before he convalesced adequately, so Stalin began to make his moves. He already had a plan. While he would promote the cult of Lenin, he himself would be maneuvering for more power and neutralizing his rivals. Yes, the star of Stalin was beginning to ascend! One of his first actions had been to order the immediate arrest of all of the members of the Lockhart conspiracy. Little did those fools realize that we had infiltrated them from the start! Almost simultaneously, all of the plotters were arrested, with one exception: Sidney Reilly.
Reilly had been tipped off and had escaped before the Cheka arrived to arrest him. His escape infuriated Stalin. He wanted that “boastful British bastard” badly and he remained determined to capture him. He knew exactly who would betray Reilly to him; that was the purpose of his visit to Lubyanka Prison that morning.
Moryak had been captured by Yurovsky and his men the night that the Romanovs were murdered. They found him unconscious in the grass field, his leg shattered by a bullet. He had lost much blood and was taken to a nearby hospital. He had remained in a coma for over two weeks. No attempt had been made to treat his shattered right leg, only to control the bleeding. When he was finally deemed well enough to travel, Lenin had ordered that he be returned to Moscow. The Tsarevitch Alexei was found about halfway in between Moryak and an abandoned cabin that he appeared to be attempting to reach. Yurovsky’s riflemen had aimed well. A bullet had entered his back and pierced his heart, killing him instantly.
Initially, Morrison had been brought to the hospital in Moscow where the ruling Bolsheviks received their medical care. It was Lenin’s intention to have him recover his health enough for him to stand trial in a public forum. It would send a strong message to the people. If the Bolsheviks could uncover treason in a national hero like Moryak and then publically try him, humiliate him, and execute him, this action would only enhance the adamant and ruthless image of the new rulers. Lenin’s near-assassination changed the picture.
It was Stalin who ordered that Moryak be brought to Lubyanka that day and be interrogated for information. There were three things that Stalin needed to know. He had to find out where Reilly was and capture him. He needed to know what other Allied agents remained in Moscow and may have been involved with the Lockhart conspiracy. Stalin had to learn one other thing: who the man known as Moryak really was and whether he working for the British or the Americans.
Felix Dzerzhinsky waited for Stalin at the entrance to the Cheka headquarters. After their greetings to one another, Stalin asked, “How is the interrogation going? Have we learned what we need to know yet?”
Dzerzhinsky took him by the arm and said, “Come, Comrade Stalin, let’s go downstairs to the basement and find out what has been learned. I haven’t been down there since Moryak was brought in last night.” Both men entered the stairwell and descended into the notorious torture chambers of the Lubyanka Prison. “He’s in the last interrogation room,” indicated Dzerzhinsky, pointing to room number six. He opened the door for Stalin and the two men entered.
Even Stalin, a sadistic thug by nature, gasped at what he saw when he entered. In the center of the room, Moryak sat tied to a wooden chair, naked except for bloody bandages around his right thigh. His jaw appeared to be broken, and his face was swollen black and blue. Both of his eyes had swelled shut, leaving only narrow slits. His nose had obviously been broken. Multiple cuts, gashes, and lacerations all over his face gave testimony to the beating he had received over the past several hours. Fresh cigarette burns covered his chest and arms, filling the room with the odor of burning flesh. His head slumped forward and he seemed barely awake.
On one side of Moryak stood the interrogator, an owlish man named Trepolov. On the other side stood a very muscular, bare-chested man who had been administering the torture. He wore leather working gloves and had a fresh cigarette dangling from his lips. Stalin could see many scattered cigarette butts on the floor around Moryak’s feet. Dzerzhinsky looked at Trepolov and barked, “Well, Comrade Trepolov, what have we learned?”
“This one doesn’t talk much,” he said, pointing his thumb at Moryak. “In fact, he doesn’t talk at all, no matter what we do to him. And you can see, my friend here has been beating the living shit out of him and torturing him continually.” He nodded over to the torturer who removed the cigarette from his lips and held it against Morrison’s chest, producing a fresh burn. Morrison seemed to wince slightly.
“He hasn’t said anything?” Stalin asked incredulously.
“Well, at first he would hum and sing something in English. I am fluent in English, Comrade Stalin. Now he’s fading and is barely arousable.
“What was he singing?” asked Dzerzhinsky.
“He doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Something about him being a yankee dandy, whatever that is!”
“Hmm,” thought Stalin, “a yankee. Could he be an American?”
“Who can say, comrade?” Trepolov laughed. “One thing we did learn is that he is Jew, most likely.”
“What? How do you know that if he hasn’t spoken?”
“Look what’s hanging between his legs. He’s been circumcised!”
“I’ll be damned,” replied Stalin. Walking up to Moryak, he leaned over and looked at his face closely. “We’re wasting time here, Moryak. There is information that I want from you right now. Where is that bastard Reilly? Who else is involved with you here in Moscow? Who are you really, Moryak, and who are you working for, the British or the Americans?” He put his hand on Morrison’s shoulder and shook it gently. Morrison lifted his head slightly and said nothing. After about a minute, Stalin stood and motioned over to the bare-chested muscular man and nodded toward Moryak as he stepped back.
The torturer stood directly in front of Morrison and delivered a crushing blow to the right side of his head. Everything suddenly went white to Morrison. He now could see only a bright white field. He could make out the form of someone emerging from that field, walking toward him. As the figure approached him, it seemed to be saying something. The figure got closer and he could see that this stranger wore a frock coat and wide-brimmed hat.
Suddenly, his father, Rabbi Zvi Kambotchnik, stood directly in front of him with his arms folded. He had that disgusted look on his face, a look that Morrison hadn’t seen in over thirty-five years. Finally, the rabbi spoke. “Lev, you will always be the biggest disappointment of my life!” The rabbi seemed to slowly vaporize into a mist as Morrison attempted to speak to him, but no words formed in his mouth. Finally, the rabbi disappeared. His senses seemed to be returning.
The torturer then smashed his iron-like fist directly into Morrison’s face again stunning him, and all went white again. Morrison could see someone walking up to him in the brightness. He appeared to be a well-dressed man of means. As he came closer, Morrison recognized him; it was his father-in-law, Oscar Leavitt. Leavitt stopped in front of him and smiled. In his right hand, he held a champagne flute. He raised it into the air as if to toast his son-in-law. “After all, Stephen,” he said with a beaming smile, “you are a man of honor. And if we have honor, we can live and die with dignity!” He downed the champagne, smiled at Morrison, and threw the glass off into the distance. Morrison tried to smile, but his face, now a mass of broken bone and torn flesh would not permit the smile to form. Like Morrison’s father before him, Oscar Leavitt began to fade into a vaporized mist and then disappeared altogether.
The torturer then smashed his right fist into the left side of Morrison’s head with such a vicious impact that it knocked him and the chair completely over on his side. As Trepolov and his aide placed the chair back upright, once again a strange whiteness enveloped Morrison. Again, a figure seemed to be approaching from the distance. As he came closer, Morrison could see that the man was wearing a tuxedo. Finally, he recognized Sidney Reilly, who stopped in front of him and leaned forward until he was directly in Morrison’s face. “Well, congratulations, Double Eagle,” he sneered. “I once told you that we were both striving for something in this life. Well, you’ve finally earned it, everything that you’ve been hoping for all along. Respect, friendship, and admiration.” Reilly stood up for a moment and as if to gather his thoughts. “Oh, you stupid fool!” he continued, again placing his face inches from Morrison’s face. “Did you really think that serving your country honorably as a naval officer would earn you these things? No matter what you did, to them you would always be that rabbi’s boy, that Jew from Russia! You’ve now come full circle and you’re back in stinking Russia where you came from. No, Double Eagle, you got your acceptance and earned what you craved by becoming a killing machine. You’ve become a brutal, emotionless killer in a sick and chaotic world. Congratulations once again.” Reilly stood up and smiled. Morrison could feel the fury and the anger well up inside of him as the image of Sidney Reilly vaporized.
Stalin came up and pushed the torturer out of the way. Moryak’s silence both frustrated and angered him. Leaning over him, his began to speak. “Listen to me, Moryak, the end is near. You can’t endure much more of this. You are dying. If you can still hear me, you know that what I am saying is true. We can end this pointless nonsense. All you have to do is to tell me what I want to know. It’s that simple! Once you do, I swear we will take you to the hospital for medical treatment. After all, we will need to get you back into a good state of health so you can stand trial. So let’s be reasonable and end this senseless violence. Make your choice, Moryak, make your choice. Now, tell me. Where is Reilly? Who else is involved with you? Who are you working for, the British or the Americans?” After nearly a minute when Morrison failed to respond, Stalin grabbed his shoulder and roughly shook it. “Goddamn you!” he shouted. “Tell me what I want to know!”
Morrison’s head lifted slightly. They all noticed his swollen, lacerated lips trembling, as he appeared to at last be attempting to speak. “That’s good, Moryak, that’s excellent!” said Stalin. Leaning to place his face only inches from Morrison’s, in a soft voice Stalin again ordered him, “Tell me what I want to know.” As he ordered this, the other three in the room gathered around Stalin, also inches from Morrison’s face.
Morrison’s lips continued to tremble as if trying to form words. He could no longer see, and all seemed to be fading around him. The whiteness now began to return. It was over. His mission was about to end. He was dying, and he knew it.
He suddenly spoke three words in flawless English: “Go fuck yourself!”
Stalin stood up with a puzzled look on his face. He did not speak English and had no idea what Moryak had just said. He looked over at Trepolov, who seemed embarrassed, and ordered him to translate for him. With reluctance, Trepolov complied with Stalin’s demand.
Stalin’s complexion reddened with anger. He shot a look of fury at the other three in the room. Dzerzhinksy could not remember when he had last seen Comrade Stalin so livid. Stalin turned around, walked rapidly to the door, and opened it. As the others watched him, he pulled the door shut behind him, but suddenly he stopped and stuck his head back into the room. He then spoke two words: “Kill him!”