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By Root 1877 0

its slightly perplexed expression, as if he had consumed too much red wine and fallen off his chair, is instantly recognizable. The thick-rimmed glasses slightly askew, shirt buttons undone. And in the second crime shot, an unseen hand has brushed aside the leaves and raised the victim's shirt to reveal a series of deep gashes across the upper abdomen. Beside the body lie two pairs of scissors and a scalpel. Next to them is a half-empty packet of Marlboros and a glass flask, its contents either drunk or spilt, as if a stake-out or perhaps a night-time rendezvous had been envisaged.

Police photograph of the body of George Stein, 20 August 1987

When we arrive in Altdorf it is drizzling. We cannot find Pension Schneider or anyone who knows Dr Benno Splieth's parents, who supposedly had a weekend house here. In fact, although we try many doors, everybody is determined to be out. We spot a small sign, pointing to a footpath up the hill in the direction of 'Ruine Brunneck, L.5km', and see a castle on top of the hill. We follow the track beside a barn filled with lowing cows and pass a young woman gardening who runs off as we near. We press on into a copse of beeches. Dry leaves crunch beneath our feet. The canopy is thick. The wood gloomy. And then we hear a slow, deep drumming. Quietly at first and then more percussive, it nears. Finally, there are gusts of breath and snapping branches. We jump back as a deer skitters across the path.

Climbing a muddy bank up through the trees, we spot a castle turret and a gateway. Inside the ruin is an amphitheatre of old trees. A recent fire pit. Some charred branches. Old graffiti scored in Gothic script on to the trunks: 'SCH L', '1964/66', 'LOEH 76/77'. The letters 'B', 'Z', and 'CH'. The word 'Goppingen'. All of it is familiar, but not quite right. In the distance we hear a chainsaw scream.

We imagine George Stein here at dawn, having climbed up from Pension Schneider in the dark, looking out across the vale of Altdorf, watching the green tractor below churning the rust-red soil. And by the time the sun had risen high in the sky, he had bled to death.

The discovery of George Stein's disembowelled corpse was front-page news across Germany and the Soviet Union. Many of the reports lingered over the ritualistic nature of his death and his proclivity for embarrassing the West German government with revelations about wartime loot. Reporters converged on the torpid hamlet of Altdorf and besieged the bankrupt fruit farm in Stelle. Rumours spread that the West German hobby-Historiker had been murdered to stop him revealing the hiding place of the Amber Room. Izvestiya reported:

Historian George Stein for twenty years searched for the Amber Room and other works of art. He achieved much and was able to help several former owners retrieve their property - including the Soviet Union... Unknown assassins have already tried to murder Stein on several occasions... The circumstances and motives of his death have not yet been satisfactorily cleared up.4

The official Stasi reports concerning Stein's death were also conspiratorial. One to Deputy Minister Neiber, stated:

The starting point for many of our contacts concerning the Amber Room was George Stein, who has died under mysterious circumstances... During the period of collaboration Stein passed us more than 150 files and diligently followed any clues received... George Stein cooperated regularly and was an important person for our investigations in West Germany.

But there was no time for mourning: 'Now that [Stein's] dead it is advisable to try to create active connections with... Baron Falz-Fein.'5

Regardless of whether Stein's death was murder or suicide, it played into the hands of someone with whom he had continually competed with for suzerainty over the Amber Room investigation. The previous summer, on 30 June 19S6, a meagre paperback volume with a cheap, pliable cover had appeared in East German bookshops promising to unravel the thrilling mystery of the 'missing Eighth Wonder of the World', proving that, 'contrary