I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 111: Chapter 21: Counter-kill

Vonke walked over and saw the oil-paper package.

He opened the package. Inside, a miniature camera glinted with a cold, metallic sheen under the flashlight beam.

There was also a codebook and several maps of West Berlin marked with military installations.

Vonke’s expression instantly darkened.

He picked up a map and examined the markings under the light—"KW," "FHQ," "MZ"—all standard codes for military facilities.

"What is this?" he asked, looking at Schneider.

The color drained from Schneider’s face. "I... I don’t know. This isn’t mine..."

"Not yours?" Vonke sneered. "Then how did it end up in your bag?"

"I really don’t know!" Schneider’s voice began to tremble. "I’m just responsible for transporting the goods. I don’t know what’s inside..."

"Take them away." Vonke waved his hand. "Bring them all back for interrogation."

The agents moved forward and handcuffed the three men.

Schneider was still desperately trying to explain, "Comrade, this is all a misunderstanding... I was just transporting goods for Boss Krupp... I’ve never seen this stuff before..."

"Krupp?" A flicker of light crossed Vonke’s eyes. "You’re saying this shipment belongs to Krupp?"

Schneider realized he had let it slip, but it was too late. The agents shoved him into the car.

Vonke stood at the factory entrance, looking at the open sewer manhole.

He had an agent go down to check. The agent quickly climbed back up and reported that the sewer led directly to West Berlin.

A secret passage connecting East and West Berlin, a batch of smuggled goods, a set of spy equipment, and Krupp’s name.

These clues linked together, pointing to a dangerous possibility.

Vonke lit a cigarette and smoked it slowly in the cold wind.

After a moment, he said to the agent beside him, "Put Krupp under surveillance. Twenty-four hours a day, don’t let up."

"Yes, Captain."

Vonke thought for another moment, then added, "Also, look into Werner Betelich’s recent activities."

"Werner?" The agent was taken aback. "Is he connected to this?"

"I don’t know." Vonke stubbed out his cigarette. "But he and Krupp are rivals. We just received photos in a tip-off against Werner, and now spy equipment shows up in Krupp’s shipment—the timing is too perfect."

He paused, his gaze growing profound. "Things that are too perfect are rarely a coincidence."

***************

The next afternoon, Werner received a call from Vonke.

"Come to my office at eight o’clock tonight." Vonke’s voice sounded exhausted. "I have something important to ask you."

After hanging up, Werner stood by the window, looking down at the gray, gloomy street below.

A group of children was playing soccer on the side of the street. The ball was made of rags and string, limp when kicked, but the children were still having a great time. A long line had formed at the corner bakery as people with ration coupons waited to collect their daily black bread.

At eight o’clock that evening, Werner arrived at Vonke’s office on time.

Vonke was sitting behind his desk with a file folder in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well.

"Sit." Vonke pointed to the chair opposite him.

Werner sat down. "Comrade Vonke, what did you want to see me about?"

Vonke didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took several photos from the folder and pushed them in front of Werner.

Werner looked down and understood immediately. ’These are the photos Fritz forged.’

In the photos, he and a strange man were standing in different locations, appearing to be in a secret meeting.

"Is that you in the photos?"

"That’s me, but I’ve never seen this other man." Werner pointed to the stranger in the photo. "These photos are fake, aren’t they?"

Vonke stared into Werner’s eyes, trying to find any sign of a lie. But Werner’s expression was calm, his gaze unwavering.

Vonke raised an eyebrow. "You’re certainly calm."

"Because I really have never met him," Werner said, placing the photos back on the desk.

Vonke was silent for a moment before pulling another document from the folder.

"This is the report from the technical department. The photos are indeed forgeries—composites of two different negatives, and with multiple flaws. The lighting angles are off, the concentration of developing agent residue is abnormal in the composite area, there are manual scratches on the edges of the negatives, and the silver salt grain structure is discontinuous."

He looked up at Werner. "Someone wants to frame you."

Werner put on a surprised expression. "Who?"

"We’re investigating." Vonke put the document away. "But I can tell you that the postmark on the tip-off letter was from the Wedding District, and a handwriting analysis suggests it was very likely written by Krupp."

Werner’s expression changed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Krupp? Why would he want to frame me?"

"That’s exactly what I wanted to ask." Vonke leaned back in his chair. "What’s the history between you and Krupp?"

"No major feud," Werner said. "Just business competition. After the Berlin Wall went up, his supply lines were cut, but mine weren’t. He probably feels like I stole his business and holds a grudge."

"Is that all?"

"That’s all." Werner spread his hands. "In the Black Market, it’s dog-eat-dog, isn’t it? It’s not surprising he’d want to take me down."

Vonke nodded, took a cigarette from the pack on his desk, and slowly lit it.

"One more thing. Last night, we arrested three of Krupp’s men at an abandoned factory by the Spree River."

Werner showed a flicker of interest. "And what did you find?"

"They were smuggling goods back from West Berlin through a secret sewer tunnel." Vonke exhaled a cloud of smoke. "The cargo included West German cigarettes, nylon stockings, and radios—all minor things. The key is, at the bottom of the shipment, we found spy equipment."

"Spy equipment?"

"A miniature camera, a codebook, and maps of West Berlin marked with military installations." Vonke’s gaze turned sharp. "Do you know what that means?"

Werner was silent for a few seconds, then said slowly, "Are you saying... Krupp is transporting intelligence for Western spies?"

"It’s a possibility," Vonke said. "Being able to forge photos that professionally usually implies a connection to Western intelligence agencies. And now, we’ve found spy equipment in his shipment. It’s hard to call the connection between these two things a coincidence."

Werner feigned a look of sudden realization. "So he forged the photos to frame me as a way to divert your attention?"

"Possibly." Vonke stubbed out his cigarette. "If he could brand you as a Western Spy, the Stasi’s investigation would focus on you, and he’d be safe."

"A pity he was too hasty." Werner gave a cold smile. "The photos were flawed, and it backfired on him."

Vonke looked at Werner, a trace of amusement in his eyes. "You don’t seem worried at all."

"What do I have to worry about?" Werner said. "I haven’t done any of those things. The innocent have nothing to hide, right?"

Vonke didn’t answer, just continued to stare at Werner.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of the desk lamp.

The East German flag on the wall looked particularly vivid in the lamplight, the golden hammer and compass on its red background glinting coldly.

After a long time, Vonke finally spoke. "Werner Betelich, I have one question for you."

"Go ahead."

"That sewer route... did you know about it?"