Gieger

by Gustaf Skördeman

  She sat quite still for several minutes, just breathing. Then thoughts about Stellan’s death began to creep up on her. A break-in gone wrong didn’t seem to fit with the way the murder had been committed. Sara was convinced that someone had shot Stellan deliberately and wilfully. That he’d been the target.

  But why?

  Were there any scandals in his past? Could it have been someone seeking revenge?

  She couldn’t think of anything, so she got her mobile out to search for ‘Stellan Broman’ and ‘crime’. Then ‘Stellan Broman’ and ‘scandals’, as well as ‘reports’ and ‘police’. Most of the articles she pulled up mentioned Stellan’s old television pursuits, which had annoyed some viewers and led to reports and complaints. But there was nothing serious enough to merit murder thirty or forty years later.

  One of the complainers was upset that Stellan’s ‘greet a stranger’ initiative had led to strangers greeting her constantly; she wanted to be left alone when she was out and about.

  When Sara searched for ‘Stellan Broman’ and ‘accusations’, she got an unexpected hit. A link to an article about a book by a Swedish researcher. The subject was the Cold War.

  ‘Former TV presenter Stellan Broman denies that he was identified in scandalous book’.

  Sara scrolled on and searched for the researcher’s name. Eva Hedin was a retired professor of history who’d written two books about Swedes who worked for the Stasi – the East German security service. According to the article, which had run in one of the nationals, Stellan Broman had been identified as one of them – something he denied.

  There was just one article in which Stellan was named specifically, but another half a dozen or so about the books, and the fact that Swedes had been identified as Stasi accomplices.

  No matter how far-fetched it seemed, the Stasi connection was the only thing Sara had found that could in any way be tied to the murder. She called Anna.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Stellan seems to have been identified as a Stasi spy.’

  ‘Stasi? But that was—’

  ‘In the eighties.’

  ‘If there’s anything in it, surely he would have been murdered back then.’

  ‘Just thought it might be worth checking out.’

  ‘I’ll add it to the list.’

  Sara knew what ‘adding something to the list’ meant. They’d both used the expression when tips came in that they didn’t believe, and which they put to one side until they had nothing else to go on. It was effectively saying ‘I don’t believe this’.

  After she’d put away her phone, Sara couldn’t quite drop the Cold War connection – mostly because she’d felt a bit silly when Anna had so quickly dismissed the suggestion. She was used to her ideas being taken seriously.

  The fly was still buzzing around Sara’s face; sweat was running down her spine and her blouse was sticking to the small of her back. She glanced down to check whether the sweat had soaked through to form dark patches.

  She had nothing urgent to do at work since David had volunteered to write the report, so Sara decided to try and find out whether there might be anything behind the East German connection. If nothing else, she could use it to argue against Anna if she continued to ignore the tip and they didn’t get anywhere.

  Sara used Wikipedia and the phone book to find an Eva Hedin with the right year of birth living at Åsögatan 189 on Söder. She called the number listed, but got no answer.

  Sara got into the car and drove along Drottningholmsvägen towards the city centre. It didn’t cost anything to check.

  After passing Lindhagensplan, she drove through Marieberg and across the Västerbron bridge to Hornstull. Then via Ringvägen and Bondegatan to Åsögatan.

  Once she’d arrived in the neighbourhood often called SoFo by pretentious Stockholmers with a New York complex, Sara did a U-turn and double-parked outside Hedin’s street door, before getting out of the car. She wondered what she was doing.

  Åsögatan 189. All of the city centre was like a photo album in which every block was associated with memories. Right across the street was number 192; she remembered from her single days that two lads had lived there, with four bathtubs in their flat – one that actually worked in the bathroom and three in the living room that weren’t plumbed in. And they’d had three restaurant-style espresso machines in the kitchen, in an era when home espresso makers hadn’t yet become a thing. They needed a lot of space for their gadget hoarding – or was it a disorder that had been given a name by now?

  They’d either changed the police entry codes that day, or the code lock was broken. She could not get in.

  Sara glanced through the pane of glass in the door and caught sight of the name board in the hallway. ‘Hedin’ was clearly listed on the lower ground floor. She took a few steps back on the pavement and saw that there were windows on both sides – she picked the left-hand side first.

  It was clearly a studio flat, because the room facing the street contained a bed, desk and television. At the table, there was a woman in large spectacles sitting and typing on an old laptop.

  Sara tapped gently on the glass so as not to scare her, but the woman turned quite calmly towards the window to see what the noise was. Sara waved her hands and hoped she would understand.

  She clearly did, given that she got up and went into the hall. A few seconds later, the street door was opened by a short woman with a determined gaze. Her hair was slightly wavy, as if it had been set in a perm a long time ago.

  ‘Hello – sorry if I alarmed you,’ said Sara, even though the woman didn’t look in the slightest scared. ‘Are you Eva Hedin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I called but you didn’t pick up.’

  ‘I have my phone on silent when I’m working.’

  ‘My name’s Sara Nowak and I’m a police officer,’ Sara said, showing her police ID. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Not when I’m working.’

  Based on what she was saying, it was clear that Hedin didn’t want to be disturbed, but otherwise she gave no impression of this. She simply stood there in silence, looking at Sara.

  ‘I have a few questions about Stellan Broman.’

  She noticed that she’d caught the woman’s attention.

  ‘What sort of questions?’

  ‘Can you keep a secret?’

  ‘Ask the Security Service,’ said Hedin. ‘Yes, I can.’

  ‘Stellan Broman is dead. Murdered.’

  ‘And what does this have to do with me?’

  ‘I saw you identified him in your books.’

  ‘Not by name.’

  ‘Can you tell me more about it? I’ve not read the books.’

  ‘They’re available in libraries and used bookshops.’

  ‘Don’t have time.’

  Hedin remained silent for a moment while looking at Sara.

  ‘Come in,’ she said at last.

  Sara followed her into the small flat. The square hallway was painted blue and lined with overfilled bookcases that ran along all of the walls. Hedin turned to Sara.

  ‘You said murdered?’

  ‘Yes, but as I said, it’s not official yet. The investigators think it’s a break-in gone wrong, but I—’

  ‘Don’t think that.’

  ‘No. It’s too weird. Shot in his home without any trace of a struggle, decades after he was in vogue.’

  ‘What do you know about the Cold War?’ said Hedin.

  ‘Well, a bit . . .’

  ‘There are things in Stellan Broman’s past that would give a motive for murder.’

  Sara looked at her.

  ‘May I sit down?’

  Hedin gestured at the one armchair in the room. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Stellan Broman was a so-called informal collaborator – or an IM as they called it – for the East German Stasi,’ said Hedin. ‘You can read about it in my books. I couldn’t include his name, but I reproduced his details as they appear in the Stasi archives
– the ones I could find. There’s no doubt about it. I don’t know why the media haven’t picked up on it more. One single article in which he got to deny everything.’

  ‘But the Cold War was a long time ago – in the seventies.’

  ‘It lasted until 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed. Long after Stellan Broman retired. And many believe it’s still going on today. Cold War 2.0. There’s a good book with that title.’

  ‘But why do you think that Stellan was a spy?’

  ‘I don’t think. I know. Read my book.’

  She went over to the bookcase and took down a large hardback that she passed to Sara. The Swedes who Worked for the Stasi.

  ‘But ’91 is thirty years ago. Why would someone murder him today for something that happened then?’

  ‘Geiger ruined the lives of many of the people he reported on,’ said Hedin. ‘Just like all other Stasi agents. Someone may have decided to seek revenge. They may have read my book and only then realised who Geiger was.’

  Hedin looked almost exhilarated at the thought.

  ‘Geiger?’ said Sara.

  ‘That was his code name.’

  Geiger.

  It sounded like an old black-and-white movie from the 1940s.

  ‘Stellan Broman was one of Sweden’s best-known television presenters,’ said Sara. ‘The only mega-celebrity there was back then. Like a combination of Ernst Kirchsteiger and Zlatan. Why would he be a spy?’

  ‘Ideology. He believed in the East German project. A lot of people did. Sweden had a tremendous amount of cultural exchange with the DDR, and the Swedish education system was developed using the East German one as a model. There are many teachers, politicians and cultural workers who were given prizes and distinctions in East Germany, who visited the country, who were working to get the DDR recognised as an independent state. Stellan was one of them.’

  ‘Would Stellan have been murdered because he wanted to recognise East Germany as an independent state?’

  ‘His mission as an informant would have included identifying East Germans who’d managed to escape, and those who were still in the country but had plans to leave. Those who were given away had their lives ruined.’

  ‘But why now?’

  ‘Because it’s only lately that many of them have been identified. I’ve had to go head to head with the Security Service and right to the Supreme Court just to get a look at the documents, but I’m still prohibited from copying them or even taking notes.’

  ‘And you’re absolutely certain that Stellan Broman was an East German agent?’

  ‘Informal collaborator. IM. Committed friend of East Germany. There’s lots of evidence for the latter in freely available sources.’

  Hedin went over to the bookcase again and took out a folder that contained copies of old newspaper articles about cultural exchanges with East Germany and political delegations. In the pictures, Sara saw the Stellan of her childhood – Sweden’s ‘Uncle Stellan’ – shaking hands with East German politicians and diplomats and poets, receiving prizes and opening festivals. Agent or not, he certainly appeared to have been a very good friend of East Germany, and Sara began to wonder whether this strange woman might not have a point.

  ‘IM,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Hedin confirmed. ‘But in several respects, he functioned as a spy. He gathered information and facilitated contact between East Germany and key Swedes.’

  ‘What kind of information?’

  ‘Almost everything was of interest. Sweden’s views on the DDR, Sweden’s views on NATO and the EC, as it was known then. Research and business. Cultural policy. A major issue was the acknowledgement of the DDR as an independent state, and Sweden was at the vanguard of that, thanks to all of East Germany’s good friends here. We were the first to legitimise oppression.’

  ‘But what did he know about all of this? Research and business? And politics?’

  ‘He knew everyone. As the biggest celebrity in the country, he was friends with everyone in the elite. Other celebrities, financiers, cultural types – and politicians. He’s supposed to have had big parties at his house where he invited all the important people.’

  Sara remembered once again how she and the sisters had lain watching, spying down the stairs or from the garden on all the grown-ups who’d been so happy and noisy. They’d witnessed all sorts of peculiarities during those parties, even though they’d only been there at the beginning.

  ‘What did he do then?’ said Sara. ‘Capture secret documents on microfilm?’

  ‘Perhaps. At any rate, he passed on information verbally and in writing to his handler. And reported on how he’d tried to promote a positive image of the DDR. That much is in the archives.’

  ‘Handler?’ said Sara, almost certain what that meant although she saw no reason to divulge her familiarity with the term.

  ‘The Stasi officer who recruited him, and then served as his point of contact.’

  ‘I still don’t understand what Stellan could have done.’

  Hedin heaved out a plastic folder stuffed with copies of old reports in German, leafed through them and read aloud.

  ‘Source Erik, CEO in the maritime industry, reluctant, material secured,’ she said. ‘Source the Cat, air force colonel, receptive, material secured. Source Hans, ambassador, accommodating, material secured. A total of fifty-six code names for different sources with different degrees of willingness to cooperate.’

  ‘“Material secured”? What material?’

  ‘I don’t know. Something that influenced their willingness to cooperate, maybe. Sensitive information about them.’

  ‘Extortion?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was that how they recruited spies?’

  ‘Normally, they used a combination of flattery and questioning. And threats, if necessary. Bribes, obviously. Geiger was part of a group all recruited by the same handler – a spy ring, if you want to make it sound dramatic.’

  ‘Do you know who else was in it?’

  ‘I’ve got the names of a couple of them, but as I said, I’m not allowed to give them to anyone.’

  ‘Didn’t they open up all the records when the Wall came down?’

  ‘Yes, but when the DDR was collapsing, Stasi officers initiated operation Archiv Berlin in order to destroy all sensitive documents. They managed to burn a lot of it before their headquarters were stormed by crowds wanting to open up the archives. The CIA may have more on the spy ring in the Rosenholz files, but for some reason they seem to prefer to suppress that information.’

  ‘So Stellan Broman wasn’t just an agent for East Germany, he was also in a spy ring controlled by a Stasi officer?’

  It was hard to take it all in, but Sara thought that Hedin’s books looked solid and serious.

  ‘Just a second,’ she said, getting her phone out and going to Wikipedia. She couldn’t help doing a little research right in front of Hedin. Hopefully, Hedin wouldn’t see what Sara was looking up.

  Eva Maria Hedin, born 24 July 1945, is a researcher currently active at the Centre for Research on Eastern Europe at Mälardalen University, and a retired Professor of History.

  Then an article about her career, and a list of published works. And finally, the most important passage as far as Sara was concerned.

  Hedin has researched the Stasi archives and is the only outsider to have been granted access to the Swedish Security Service’s records taken from the Rosenholz files concerning people in Sweden who were named in connection with collaboration with the Stasi, following a Supreme Court judgment in 2015.

  This wasn’t just any old conspiracy theorist – this was someone who clearly knew what she was talking about. The only question was whether the information was relevant.

  ‘You’ve seen the Rosenholz files,’ said Sara.

  ‘You’ve been googling, eh?’ said Hedin, grinning.

  Sara waited for an answer.

  ‘I’ve been allowed to see small excerpts. About other Stasi collaborators. And de
tailed information about Geiger. There are some clues about the other people in his spy ring. But nothing about Ober, who was the leader of the spy ring.’

  ‘Do you think one of their members might have murdered Stellan?’

  ‘No, but if Geiger’s death is linked to East Germany, there’s a chance they know why he was killed. And by whom. In any case, the ringleader would know. And if it is part of a bigger plan, he or she would know that too.’

  ‘A bigger plan?’

  ‘If an old IM is suddenly brutally murdered after thirty years, it may be the beginning of a much bigger chain of events. Don’t forget that Russia still has sleeper agents all over the world – ones planted by the KGB and simply transferred to the FSB, the current Russian intelligence service. They may also have taken over the East German agents, too.’

  ‘And what chain of events might that be?’ said Sara.

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Then we need to find out who this Ober is.’

  ‘Can’t. The CIA refuses. Won’t even confirm that they know.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll help us.’

  Hedin shook her head.

  ‘A murder investigation,’ said Sara, her eyebrows raised.

  The retired professor merely looked at her, and Sara thought for a moment.

  Could Uncle Stellan’s murderer really be some kind of spy from the eighties?

  How old would he be in that case? If the person in question was thirty or thirty-five when the Wall fell, he would only be sixty-five today. Maybe seventy.

  It was quite possible.

  ‘And what if it isn’t “a bigger chain of events”?’

  ‘Revenge.’

  ‘Someone whose life he ruined?’

  ‘As I said, things often went very badly for those he reported on. During the visits to the DDR, he and his family got to know a lot of people – ordinary East Germans. Some of them were young East Germans who wanted to go west. Geiger’s files contain a lot of names of those accused of saying they wanted to leave the DDR. And things did not go well for them. Some went to prison, many were bumped off. Their families were punished, too. Lost their jobs and privileges and had to move to worse housing. In one case, the man managed to get to Sweden and the woman was to follow, but Geiger reported them and the woman was arrested and took her own life. You could imagine that the man in question may always have wanted to avenge the death of his loved one.’