by Phil Growick
The family gathered at their small dock to say goodbye to Olga; with full knowledge that they may never see her again. All the Grand Duchesses tearfully embraced and whispered words of love and assurance, Olga taking extra time in kissing baby Sidney, then they gave way to the Tsar, who was weeping copiously because another piece of his being was being sundered.
“I shall never see you again, Olga, my first born.”
“Yes, you shall, Papa, you shall.”
But not wanting to prolong this tender agony, Olga turned and went into the boat, Reilly holding her hand from the deck as he helped her on board the little skiff which would take them to Nassau; and from there, she would begin her voyage to New York.
The little skiff left immediately, Olga waving a handkerchief, the remaining ladies doing likewise, and the Tsar simply waving dispiritedly. In a very few moments, the skiff was out of sight and the family returned to the main house.
This same sadness was repeated for Marie and then, finally for Anastasia. Unlike her sisters, though also terribly disheartened by the family’s separation, she exhibited an unconcealed ennui at beginning her new life. And then, she, too, was gone.
When Reilly had returned to Tatiana after seeing Anastasia off safely to England from Nassau, he looked especially pensive.
“Yes,” Tatiana said, “I know. This must all weigh on you so.”
“Tatiana, I can’t escape the unrelenting thought that had I hadn’t come here, none of this would’ve happened.”
“My darling, please, please don’t blame yourself. It was only natural for you to want to be with me and Sidney. You would’ve been a monster not to have. We can’t say what would’ve, or wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t come.”
“I know, I know, but that doesn’t change what I feel.”
Tatiana then embraced Reilly and held him as if all his turmoil and travail would leave him and be transferred to her.
But Reilly knew that if all I had told him were so, then Lloyd George and the others involved were responsible for these tragic events on the island. The deaths of Alexei and the Tsarina and the diaspora of the Romanovs were to be laid directly at their feet. But ultimately, Lloyd George.
He would wait a sufficient time to be sure all was secure and safe on the island for Tatiana, baby Sidney and the Tsar; but then he would return to London and exact his own vengeance.
What he could not know or imagine, was that his desire for revenge would place him on a lethal collision course with Holmes. Reilly would be intent on taking his revenge on Lloyd George; but, in a truly bizarre twist, Holmes would be even more intent on preventing that from happening.
Now Or Never
More than two years had passed since Holmes had returned to London and he was adding and subtracting elements of his revenge like an abacus gone awry.
On the plus side, Holmes had a criminal underworld at his command. Also on the plus side, Churchill was still Chancellor of the Exchequer. However, on the minus side, Churchill was foundering as Chancellor.
Perhaps most portentous, Holmes had not discovered any enchanted elixir of youth; he was getting on.
Ultimately, however, with Lloyd George no longer Prime Minister, Holmes could take his revenge; and in a way in which Lloyd George would be discredited to the world.
To Holmes, it seemed a perfect plan. But as he himself, once said, “Any time anyone announces he has devised a perfect plan, I immediately assume him to be a perfect fool.”
All that was left was his private confrontation with Lloyd George. It was time for Churchill to look in a set direction and arrange a meeting. Churchill would know nothing of its true import.
However, not even Holmes could imagine its ultimate outcome.
A New Yorker In London
It was at this time that a certain man arrived in London. A man using London as a stop on the way to a place of extreme importance to the continued success of his and his partners’ business. A man who first, however, had to visit his British business partner, Clay. But Holmes had no prior knowledge that this man was coming. The man and his partners had wanted it that way. The man was Bugsy Siegel.
Holmes was immediately made aware of his presence by those he paid to inform him of such consequential matters. Siegel had checked into one of the newest and poshest hotels in London, an Art Deco delight, the Cumberland. So innovatively modern was this hotel, that it was the first in London to offer direct dial telephones and to have bathrooms in each suite.
The morning after arriving in London, Siegel tried to have breakfast in the Centre Court. I will explain the “why” in a moment, then had the front man hail a cab for him and got in.
“Yeah, buddy, I wanna go to Varrance Road and Lomas Street. You know where this place is?”
The driver turned to look at Siegel. “I should certainly hope so,” said the driver. It was Holmes. But his disguise as Mr. Stash was the same he had used as John Clay, but without the eye patch, so nothing seemed strange to Siegel.
Siegel laughed heartily and said, “Ya know, Meyer told me that even though we didn’t tell you I was coming, I wouldn’t find you first; that you’d find me. Damn Meyer, he’s always right.” And he continued to laugh as Holmes began to drive to his headquarters.
“Hey, Johnny, you people here in England don’t speak English.”
“Why is that, Ben?”
“Okay, so I go down to have breakfast at that Centre Court; real fancy. The waiter brings over a menu and right away I know I’m in trouble.”
“I don’t understand,” Holmes said.
“You don’t understand? It was like they handed me a menu in Greek.
“I take a gander at the menu; the first thing I see is crumpets. I look up at the waiter and ask him ‘what the hell is a crumpet?’ He says it’s like an English muffin. So I say ‘why the hell don’t you say so?’
“Then I take a look and there’s bangers and mash. Now I’m really gettin’ frustrated. To me it sounds like a gat and a club you smash someone over the head with. So I say, ‘What the hell is this? Some kinda weapon or somethin’?’ He explains they’re sausage and mashed potatoes.
“Now, here’s the topper. I take a look at the menu again and I think somebody spelled this thing wrong. It says kippers; and I’m thinkin’ zippers. So I ask the guy again, ‘What the hell is a kipper?’ And he says it’s a fish. And I get excited.
“You got gefilte fish? I ask the guy. He looks at me like I’m nuts.
“He says, ‘I beg your pardon.’
“Don’t go beggin’ my pardon, buddy; ya go to the governor for that. Just bring me some eggs, bacon and one of them crumpets. I coulda starved before I got any food.”
“Well I’m sure you didn’t come for our gastronomical delights or sightseeing, Ben. Why don’t you tell me why London is graced with your splendid, sartorial presence?”
“Sure thing, Johnny. Not that Lucky and Meyer and me don’t trust you...”
“Perish the thought.”
“Yeah, well things are gettin’ tight back in New York. We got guys tryin’ to muscle in on our territory and they’re spreading word around that they’re buyin’ their booze from you. I’m here to see if it’s true.”
“And if it is,” Holmes asked, “you’re to ‘rub me out’, correct?”
“Yeah, that’s about it,” Siegel said as he examined his manicure.
Now it was Holmes who laughed. Slightly.
Holmes had seen Siegel’s savagery first hand during the Castellammarese War. He had a very unsavory taste of why Siegel was called Bugsy; but never called that to his face. And now Holmes knew how completely mad Siegel must have been to come three thousand miles into Holmes’ territory without an ally, to try to kill him and still come out alive.
But of course, that was it: Siegel never thought other
wise. To Siegel, the thought of his own mortality never entered what there was of his mind. He never even gave the thought of failure a thought.
Holmes assured Siegel that he and Lansky and Luciano had nothing to worry about. If it’s one virtue he held above all others, it was loyalty.
“Yeah,” Siegel said, “that’s what Benedict Arnold told George Washington.” Now Holmes really laughed. And they drove on.
Reilly Leaves Eleuthera
It was time for Reilly to return to London. It was now May, all was safe and secure on Eleuthera and as much as he wanted to remain, he felt he could leave, accomplish this one last mission, and return to the love of his family for good.
Tatiana was, of course, distraught.
“But why must you go, Sidney? What wrenches you from us? What is so important?”
“Tatiana, you know me. You know me better than any living being. And because you know me, you know that there’s something I must do or betray all in me you love. Please don’t ask me not to go because I can’t deny you anything. But I promise you that I’ll return as soon as possible. I wouldn’t want to waste one moment.”
Tatiana paused, holding back tears.
“Then I won’t ask you to stay, but how long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“Months, I think.”
“Months? Oh, Sidney...”
Reilly took her in his arms. He knew he had just won this gentle battle.; but the one to come would not be so easy. He made ready.
The next day, the Tsar accompanied Reilly, who held little Sidney, and Tatiana to the dock. Funny Oscar was there, as he always was when family was leaving. Little Sidney was crying.
“No, no, don’t cry, Sidney. Daddy is just going on an adventure and will be back very soon,” Reilly said, kissing him as he spoke.
“No, daddy, no daddy. Don’t go, daddy.”
It was breaking all their hearts and Tatiana, always so sensitive to these things, took little Sidney from Reilly, held him in her arms close to her bosom and rocked comfortingly back and forth, consoling him.
Reilly gave Tatiana one last kiss, and as he stepped into the skiff, Funny Oscar came forward to shake hands. As they did so, Reilly felt a small slip of paper being placed surreptitiously in his hand. He didn’t react but saw Funny Oscar smiling warmly and giving him a knowing wink. Reilly thought to himself, “Now, what was that all about?”
In a few minutes the skiff was out of sight and Reilly, done waving at his family, turned to unfold and examine the paper that Funny Oscar had given him.
He smiled and had the answer to the question he had just asked.
Reilly kept that paper, carrying it as a good luck talisman for his entire life, I believe. The last time he visited me, he showed me that little scrap of paper. I shall now try to duplicate, in my meager manner, the three simple letters that were on it: S I S
Funny Oscar
So, Funny Oscar was SIS.
All Reilly could do was wonder what had brought Funny Oscar to Eleuthera and how he had gotten that name. As Funny Oscar told him much later, this is what brought him there.
At the beginning of the Great War, the Germans began trying to foment trouble in as many of the British Caribbean islands as possible. They had sent agents to incite the local Negro populations against the white colonials. However, the Germans had not met with any success.
The Admiralty had sent a handful of SIS operatives to combat the Germans and Funny Oscar wound up in Eleuthera where, it was reported, a German U-boat had been frequently seen and its sailors and officers had come ashore to stir up the locals.
In a way, that was absolutely true. And in another, perhaps not.
It was the U-24. It had surfaced three times at the southernmost tip of Eleuthera near Bannerman Town. On each of those times, a contingent of officers and sailors had stolen ashore. However, the contingent was comprised of different men each time.
The officers and sailors of the U-24, it seemed, just couldn’t take the claustrophobic feeling of their vessel anymore, needed some female companionship and were more than willing to seek it with the native women; who, in turn, were happy for the silver coins they received.
What happened next gave Funny Oscar his name.
Oscar and the local constabulary had already learned of the Germans’ tete-a-tetes from one of the women who walked into their station and said “I am loyal to King George and those Germans smell bad.”
So Oscar planned a little surprise for the Germans.
First, all the women being visited were brought into the police station. Oscar, backed up by some constables, spoke to the women and reminded them that they were subjects of the Crown and that what they were doing was collaborating with the enemy. They could be taken out and shot for that.
Well, you can imagine the commotion, the crying, and the piteous beseeching to spare them.
“Of course,” Oscar said, calming them down. “Not only will you be spared, but I’ll give you all the chance to become national heroes.”
At this, the commotion and crying and piteous beseeching ceased and the women started happy yells and dancing around. Finally, one of them asked, “How?”
“It’s quite simple,” Oscar said. “This is what I want you to do.”
They knew that the Germans were due to return the next night. So as the officers and sailors of U-24 were busily engaged in visiting these women, their uniforms were being whisked away by other women who were not visiting.
When the Germans were through, they discovered that their uniforms had vanished.
Well, you can imagine the commotion, the screaming the searching for their uniforms as they ran about as natural as the day they were born.
It was at this precise moment that Oscar and the constables arrested all of the Germans who were then forced to march through Bannerman Town as the locals laughed and jeered and mocked them and threw fruits and vegetables, as well.
The sergeant in command of the constables kept repeating, as he laughed, “That is so funny, Oscar. That is so funny, Oscar.”
And so, to the locals and everyone else, Oscar became Funny Oscar ever after.
Where The Doves Had Flown
Upon her arrival in England, Marie, now Mary Hampton, moved into a home already purchased by the Romanovs in the late nineteenth century, but held in trust through well-retained solicitors in Zurich.
The home was at 23 Chester Square in Belgravia, one of London’s most prestigious addresses; and directly next to where Mary Shelley, the author of “Frankenstein”, once lived. Odd coincidence, that.
Marie fell in love with the house and decided to make that her permanent residence.
Anastasia, now Anna Anders, chose to live in a community more alive with the artistic and intellectual life blossoming in London right after the war; best likened to Greenwich Village in New York City. She chose to live in Bloomsbury, at No. 2
Theobald’s Road.
It had a lovely garden and was quite private. She had once remarked to Marie that when she tended to her garden, her garden tended to her. A sentiment anyone in England could easily embrace.
Though each lived not far from each other, they infrequently met and Marie saw how deeply Anastasia still grieved for her lost brother, retreating further into her own secluded world.
On a more happy note, while Marie was strolling through Grosvenor Square only a few months after arriving, a hand fell gently on her shoulder and startled her. As she turned to see who it was, she gasped. It was William Yardley. Had he not held her upright, she would have fainted onto the pavement. William led her to a bench where he sat her down and held her hands, assuring her that he was not a mirage.
“William, I thought you were dead. I heard your ship had been sunk.” She was about to tell all that Reilly had told her and her on Eleuthera whe
n she remembered his directive to not disclose any of what he had told them. She thought it best to ask him questions.
“What happened to you? What about your ship sinking? And what about Mr. Holmes?”
William, happy though uncomfortable, said, “Well, you can see that I’m here, holding your beautiful hands, so I guess I’m still alive.”
“Now stop that,” she said, playfully admonishing him, “you’ve given me quite a shock, you know. I might have had a heart attack, and then where would you be?”
It was his turn to play act. “I would have perished right alongside you for causing the death of the woman I love.” As those words danced out, he suddenly realized he had spoken the truth and once again became serious and silent. Marie, too, became silent as she looked into his eyes.
“It’s still true, William?”
“Yes...yes.”
“Then why didn’t you contact me to let me know you were alive? Why let me think you were dead all this time?”
“Marie, I couldn’t. There’s much I can’t discuss, but as you see from my uniform, I’m still a serving officer in the Royal Navy and I’m bound by honour to follow orders.”
“And those orders included not telling me anything? Letting me grieve for you?”
“Those orders forbade me from telling anyone what we all had been through. I have not uttered your name once since leaving you. No, that’s a lie. I’ve spoken your name countless times; but only to myself.
“I reported back to my superiors upon my return, reunited with my father, who had also believed me dead, and resumed by duties. And now, here we are. Please, please forgive me, but any attempt of mine to contact you in any way, shape or form may have endangered you and your family. And though it’ll sound trite, I put your safety above my desire to be with you.”
“But what of your ship being sunk and what happened to Mr. Holmes?”