11Petrograd, Russia
December 1916
Sidney Reilly knocked on the door of the nondescript apartment in the heart of Petrograd. The apartment served as a safe house for western agents, and Reilly frequently used it as a meeting place for his many paramours around town. A bare-chested Stephen Morrison opened the door, bathed in sweat from exercising. He invited the British agent to enter.
“You certainly look fit, Double Eagle! One would never guess that you are recently out of a prison camp.”
“The exercise and the discipline are what got me through it,” Morrison replied with a straight face. “Let me get a towel. Have a seat.” As Reilly pulled up a chair and sat down, Morrison picked up a towel and dried himself off. “You said you got the information from America. Well, let’s hear it.” He pu
