I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 117: Chapter 27: Isetta

Werner didn’t get up. He just jutted his chin toward the chair opposite him. "Sit."

Joshua sat down, then spoke hesitantly. "That matter... have you given it any thought?"

"Transporting people?" Werner sipped his coffee. "I told you, I need time."

"Can you speed it up?" Joshua lowered his voice. "You know their situation—"

"Of course I know." Werner cut him off, setting his coffee cup on the table with a soft clink. "And it’s precisely because I know that I can’t rush. Do you want me to deliver them straight into a Stasi prison cell?"

Joshua closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wrung his hands on his knees, his knuckles turning white.

"I’m sorry," he said. "It’s just... I’m under a lot of pressure."

Werner leaned back in his chair, studying Joshua.

"Do you know the difference between smuggling people and smuggling goods?" Werner said slowly. "If goods are found, they get confiscated, and that’s the end of it. If a person is found, they get shot."

Joshua’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

"So what?" he asked, staring at Werner. "Can you do it or not?"

Werner didn’t answer immediately.

He stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the gray, dreary street. A Clement truck drove past the mouth of the alley, its cargo bed covered with a tattered canvas tarp.

"The Church’s humanitarian corridor is still tied up in red tape with the government. We can’t count on it anytime soon." Werner turned around. "The only way is through the checkpoints."

"The checkpoints?" Joshua faltered. "But—"

"But the inspections are strict?" Werner laughed. "You think I don’t know? Probes, mirrors, tapping the chassis, taking measurements—they use every trick in the book. But it’s the only way."

Joshua’s hands clenched, then relaxed.

"Are you sure you can pull it off?"

"No one can be a hundred percent sure." Werner walked back to the desk and pulled a stack of papers from a drawer. "But I’m preparing."

They were rough sketches—schematics of a car’s structure. The engine bay, the chassis, the trunk—every part was annotated with dimensions and notes in pencil.

Joshua leaned in for a closer look, his brow furrowing.

"These are..."

"Possible hiding spots," Werner said, sitting down and tapping the schematics. "I had someone gather intel a while back. People have tried these methods on other borders, like in Poland and Hungary."

Joshua nodded silently.

"Some hide in the trunk, concealed by luggage," Werner continued. "Others squeeze into the engine bay, cramming themselves in next to the engine. And some are even more extreme—they modify the gas tank and seal themselves inside."

"The gas tank?" Joshua sucked in a sharp breath. "Isn’t that a death wish?"

"It is," Werner said flatly. "That’s why most of them died. They were either discovered, suffocated, or passed out from the fumes and fell."

He paused, looking at Joshua.

"But some made it."

A flicker of light entered Joshua’s eyes, then died out.

"Which method do you plan to use?"

Werner didn’t answer directly. Instead, he pulled another photograph from the drawer. It was a BMW Isetta, the bubble-like microcar with a round face and a single, front-opening door.

"Have you seen this car before?"

"An Isetta?" Joshua frowned. "This car is way too small. How could you hide anyone in it?"

"Small has its advantages." Werner pushed the photo across to Joshua. "When the soldiers at the checkpoint see a car like this, their first reaction is, ’What could possibly be hidden in a car this small?’ They’ll let their guard down psychologically."

Joshua picked up the photo and studied it.

"Besides, the car has a unique structure," Werner said, pointing at the photo. "The door opens from the front, the engine is in the back, and there’s a small storage space behind the driver’s seat. If we modify the seatback to create a foldable hidden compartment, a slender person could just barely squeeze inside."

"’Barely’?" Joshua’s voice was sharp.

"Yes, barely." Werner met his gaze directly. "Did you think this was a first-class ticket to freedom? They’ll be lucky to make it across alive."

Joshua fell silent.

The warehouse was quiet, the only sound being the distant RUMBLE of a passing train. East Berlin’s rail network was always busy, transporting rationed supplies and industrial materials day and night.

"I need an Isetta," Werner said, breaking the silence. "One that can pass through the checkpoint legally. I’ll also need a skilled mechanic who can make the modifications seamless."

"I can arrange that," Joshua said. "But... what if they’re still discovered?"

"That’s why I need a backup plan." Werner stood and walked over to a cabinet in the corner, pulling the door open.

Inside were several metal toolboxes and a roll of canvas.

"See this?"

Joshua walked over. The toolboxes were stamped with the words "VEB Mechanical Plant," and the canvas bore the logo of the "East German People’s Construction Corps."

"Fake papers?" Joshua whispered.

"More than just papers." Werner patted a toolbox. "It’s a complete disguise. If the Isetta plan fails, we’ll try a different approach: have someone pose as a repairman or a construction worker and slip through the checkpoint in a cargo truck."

"But the Border Guards count the passengers—"

"That’s why we’d use a convoy that makes regular trips," Werner said. "I’m looking into a few routes. Some transport teams cross the checkpoint several times a week, and the soldiers get complacent. If we time it right, during a shift change when the new soldiers aren’t familiar with the routine, we might have a chance to slip an extra person through."

Joshua listened, captivated, his eyes locked on Werner.

"You’ve thought of everything," he said. "But all of this will take time."

"Exactly." Werner closed the cabinet door. "That’s why I said we can’t rush."

Joshua stood there for a moment, lost in thought. Then, he suddenly spoke.

"Let’s try moving one person first."

Werner turned around.

"What?"

"You were right. We can’t move too many people at once," Joshua said. "Let’s start with one. If it’s successful, then we’ll move a second, and a third. One step at a time."

Werner stared at him for several seconds.

"You’ve made up your mind?"

"I have." Joshua nodded. "I’ll go back and talk with them. We’ll choose the person who needs to leave the most."

"Don’t pick an old person or a child," Werner said. "They need to be young, healthy, and able to endure being curled up for a long time. Preferably thin, and not too tall."

"I know," Joshua said.

"One more thing." Werner walked back to his desk, took an envelope from the drawer, and handed it to Joshua. "This is intel I got from Matthias. The checkpoint’s shift schedule and inspection procedures. Take it, study it, and memorize every detail."

Joshua took the envelope and tucked it into the inner pocket of his trench coat.

"How much will it cost?" he asked.

Werner considered for a moment.

"Buying the car, the modifications, greasing some palms... I’ll need five thousand Marks to start."

Joshua drew a sharp breath.

"Five thousand?"

"This is a matter of life and death, not a trip to the market," Werner said coldly. "If that’s too expensive for you, feel free to find someone else."

Joshua closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Fine, five thousand it is," he said, opening his eyes. "But I don’t have that much cash on me right now. Can I give you half up front?"

"You can," Werner said. "Give me twenty-five hundred now. We’ll discuss the rest after the car is modified."

Joshua nodded, pulled a thick envelope from inside his coat, and placed it on the desk.

"Here’s two thousand," he said. "I’ll get you the other five hundred tomorrow."

Werner picked up the envelope, weighed it in his hand, and slid it into the drawer.

"Fine," he said. "It’s a deal. You go pick your person. I’ll get the car and the route ready."

Joshua stood, but stopped at the door.

"Werner," he said, looking back. "I know you’re doing this for the money. But if you can help them... I don’t think you’ll regret it."

"I never have regrets," Werner said flatly. "Because I never do anything I’m not sure of."

Joshua looked at him, as if he wanted to say more, but in the end, he just nodded, pushed the door open, and left.

After the door closed, silence returned to the warehouse.

Werner sat in his chair, staring at the photo of the Isetta.

’In his mind, he saw the exhibits from his past life at the Berlin Wall Museum: modified cars, hidden compartments, rusty metal probes, and yellowed photographs. The photos showed young faces—some had successfully escaped to West Berlin, while others remained forever in East German prisons.’

’He remembered one photo in particular: a disassembled Isetta. Behind the seatback, a narrow space was revealed, only half a meter wide and a meter long.’

’The placard read: "In 1962, an East German youth hid in this compartment and successfully passed through the checkpoint."’

’But the placard didn’t mention how many had failed.’

Werner lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

’He knew the risks.’

’Smuggling people wasn’t like smuggling goods. If anything went wrong, it wouldn’t just be him. Matthias, Eva, Weber from the Church—everyone connected to him would be implicated. The Stasi would hunt down every last link in the chain.’

’But he also knew this was an opportunity.’

’If the first attempt succeeded, Joshua would bring him more business.’

’People who wanted to escape East Germany, whether they were political dissidents or ordinary citizens, would hear his name.’

’He would become the true king of the East Berlin underworld, not just by smuggling goods, but by holding the power of life and death in his hands.’

’More importantly, it would make him more valuable to the Stasi.’

’Vonke wanted intelligence. He wanted to control the East Berlin underworld. He wanted to know who was planning to escape.’

’And by holding the list of those people, Werner would hold all the bargaining chips.’