I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 102: Chapter 12: Two Moles

Werner’s hand, resting on the doorknob, froze.

Erich Hoffman.

The engineer who wanted to send his daughter to West Berlin. The father who claimed he had a heart condition and three years to live, at most.

He was a Stasi mole.

Werner lowered his hand, his mind racing.

Hoffman’s story had sounded so real. The helplessness and despair of a father—it was a masterful performance. If not for the system’s alert, Werner would never have suspected him.

’It seems the Stasi have taken notice of the Church’s humanitarian corridor.’

’They’ve sent in a mole to infiltrate it, hoping to smoke out the people organizing the escapes.’

Werner lit a cigarette and walked to the window.

Outside, East Berlin was shrouded in darkness, the night punctuated by the occasional flash of headlights in the distance.

Hoffman was a Stasi man.

’If I don’t deal with him, this bomb is bound to go off sooner or later.’

A sudden thought struck Werner—Anna had been subtly fishing for information about his "channels" lately.

If Anna was a Western double agent, what she would need most was a list of contacts for the escape network inside East Germany.

Western intelligence agencies could use such a list to establish their own intelligence network within East Germany.

A cold smile touched the corners of Werner’s lips.

The system had handed him a Stasi mole, and he happened to have a Stasi agent who was possibly a Western mole right in his hands.

This was the perfect opportunity—a chance to test Anna’s true identity.

He could feed Hoffman’s information to Anna, disguised as a "contact for the underground escape network," and see how she handled it.

If Anna was just an ordinary Stasi agent, she would report the information. The Stasi would investigate Hoffman, discover he was one of their own, and the matter would end there.

But if Anna was a Western double agent, she would pass Hoffman’s information to Western intelligence.

The West would try to contact Hoffman, attempting to either win him over or use him to obtain intelligence.

And since Hoffman was a Stasi man, he would immediately report the contact to the Stasi.

Werner stubbed out his cigarette, walked to his desk, and took out a piece of paper and a pen.

He wrote down Hoffman’s name, then added a few fictional names with simple background details—a retired railway worker, a pharmacy clerk, and a printing factory worker.

These people were all fabricated, but they sounded plausible as contacts in an underground escape network: the railway worker could hide people in freight trains, the pharmacy clerk could provide forged medical certificates, and the printing factory worker could counterfeit documents.

Werner was going to give Anna a seemingly complete "list of the underground escape network," but the key figure on it was a Stasi mole.

This way, regardless of who Anna gave the list to, Werner could deduce her true identity from the outcome.

* * *

「A few days later.」

Werner met Anna in a small diner near the East Berlin train station.

The diner had only six tables, and faded propaganda posters hailing the "Great Achievements of Socialist Construction" were pasted on the walls.

The air was thick with the smell of boiled sauerkraut and potatoes. A few workers in overalls sat in a corner, talking in low voices.

Anna sat by the window, a bowl of untouched soup in front of her.

She wore a dark blue coat today, her hair neatly combed, looking like an ordinary East German office worker.

"You wanted to see me?" Anna looked up, her tone calm.

Werner sat down across from her and lowered his voice. "I’ve recently come into contact with some... special people."

"What kind of people?" A flicker of movement in Anna’s eyes.

"People who want to escape to West Berlin," Werner said. "I thought I should tell you."

Anna put down her spoon and leaned forward slightly. "Tell me the details."

"Through the Church’s humanitarian corridor, I met some people who want to escape. Of course, I wouldn’t help them escape—I don’t have the means. I thought they were just... parishioners wanting to pass letters to family in the West. But they told me some people could help, like a railway worker who can hide people, and a pharmacy clerk who can issue fake certificates."

"Do you have a list?" Anna asked.

"Part of one." Werner pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and pushed it to the center of the table.

Anna picked up the paper and glanced over it quickly.

Four names were written on the paper:

Erich Hoffman—engineer, lives in the Friedrichshain District, said to be able to provide forged factory transfer orders.

Kurt Zimmerman—retired railway worker, lives in the Lichtenberg District, said to be able to arrange passage hidden in freight trains.

Gretchen Schneider—pharmacy clerk, lives in the Mitte District, said to be able to issue fake medical certificates.

Herman Braun—printing factory worker, lives in the Pankow District, said to be able to counterfeit border passes.

After reading it, Anna folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket.

She stared at Werner for a few seconds, then let out a soft laugh. "Well done, Werner. But... aren’t you afraid I’ll report you too? After all, you’ve been in contact with these would-be escapees."

"I’m just helping the Church with some work, passing letters for parishioners through the Church’s humanitarian corridor. It’s an officially approved, legal channel," Werner said. "I haven’t organized any escapes or offered any help. I just heard these names and passed them on to you. That’s called assisting an investigation, not being an accomplice."

Anna was silent for a moment, then nodded. "You did the right thing. This information is important. I’ll take care of it."

"Good." Werner stood up and left a few coins on the table. "I have other things to do. I’m leaving."

He walked out of the diner and stopped in the shadows of a street corner.

Through the glass window, he saw Anna still sitting in her seat, staring down at the piece of paper with a thoughtful expression.

The trap was now set.

’Now it’s just a matter of seeing what choice Anna makes.’

* * *

「A few days later, on a sunny Saturday.」

Werner was in a hardware store in the Friedrichshain District, buying screws.

The store was near Hoffman’s home. He wanted to see with his own eyes if someone from the West would come to contact Hoffman.

Business was slow. Werner pretended to browse the merchandise, but he was actually watching the street outside the window.

Around three in the afternoon, a man in a gray overcoat appeared on the street corner.

He looked to be in his forties, wearing a dark fedora and holding a newspaper. He sat down on a bench across the street from Hoffman’s home and began to "read."

Werner’s heart began to pound.

’Something’s wrong with the way that man is sitting.’

A normal person would be looking down at their newspaper, but this man’s head was held at an angle, his gaze fixed on Hoffman’s doorway over the edge of the paper.

He was on surveillance.

Werner continued to feign interest in the merchandise, observing the man from the corner of his eye.

About ten minutes later, Hoffman emerged from the building. He was wearing his dark gray work clothes and carrying a toolbox, looking as if he were heading to work.

The man in the gray coat folded his newspaper, stood up, and fell in behind Hoffman.

Werner put down the screws he was holding, left the hardware store, and followed them from a distance.

Hoffman walked about two hundred meters down the street and turned into a small alley. The man in gray quickened his pace and followed him in.

Werner reached the mouth of the alley but didn’t enter immediately. Instead, he leaned against the wall, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and pretended to be having a smoke.

Muffled voices drifted out from the alley—too far away to make out the words, but he could tell it was two men speaking.

About three minutes later, the man in gray emerged from the alley and left in a hurry.

Hoffman came out as well, but instead of continuing toward the factory, he turned around and went back home.

Werner stubbed out his cigarette. He already had his answer.

Someone from the West had contacted Hoffman.

This meant Anna had passed the list to a Western intelligence agency.

And the West, acting on the information from that list, had sent someone to contact Hoffman, intending to recruit or exploit him.

But Hoffman was a Stasi mole. He would undoubtedly report this contact to the Stasi.

Werner turned and walked away, his mind rapidly deducing the consequences.

Hoffman would report to the Stasi, and the Stasi would investigate the source of the leak.

And there were only two possible sources for the leak: Werner and Anna.

The question was, who would the Stasi suspect first?