I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 120: Chapter 30: First Smuggling

Werner froze.

"You want to escape?"

"Not now," Anna said. "But maybe one day. If things go south, if I can’t take it anymore, I’ll need a way out."

Werner fell silent.

This condition was heavier than all the others. Helping a Stasi agent escape to West Germany... if he were discovered, it wasn’t just him who would be finished. Everyone connected to him would be done for.

But he also knew this was Anna’s true trump card. She was showing him her most vulnerable side as a sign of good faith for their cooperation.

"Fine," Werner finally said. "But not now, and not anytime soon. We have to wait for the right moment."

"I know," Anna said. "I can wait."

"Then let’s cooperate," Werner said. "You handle things on the Stasi’s end and provide internal intel. I’ll help you build credibility on the West German side and use my channels to pass on the information."

"How will we pass it?"

"Through the Church’s charity channels," Werner said. "They send a batch of supplies to West Germany every month—medicine, clothes, books. You hide the intel inside, and I’ll make the arrangements."

"Won’t it be checked?"

"It will," Werner said. "But I have my ways. Medicine packaging, hollowed-out books, hidden pockets in clothing—we can use all of those. As long as it’s not too frequent, it shouldn’t be a big problem."

Anna nodded.

"What about the delivery fee?"

"Five hundred Marks per delivery," Werner said. "Double for urgent intel."

Anna smiled.

"You really don’t hold back."

"Business is business," Werner said.

"Fine," Anna said. "Five hundred it is."

She stood up, picked up her trench coat, and put it on.

"I’ll give you the first batch of intel in three days," she said. "It’s not much, just a few pages about a corruption case involving a certain department head in the Ministry of Foreign Trade. The West German side has been after this for a while."

"Klein?" Werner asked.

Anna paused, stunned.

"How did you know?"

"A guess," Werner said. "He’s been making big moves lately, and he’s not being subtle about it."

"You’re well-informed," Anna said.

"It’s how I make a living," Werner said.

Anna walked to the door and placed her hand on the knob, then turned back.

"Werner."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Werner raised an eyebrow.

"For what?"

"For not treating me like a true enemy." Anna’s voice was a little low. "In this city, it’s already hard enough to find someone who isn’t entirely an enemy."

Werner leaned back in his chair and looked at her.

"We’re not friends, Anna."

"I know," Anna said. "But we’re not enemies either. Maybe... colleagues?"

"Colleagues." Werner repeated the word and smiled. "I like the sound of that."

Anna smiled too, then pushed the door open and left.

After the door closed, silence returned to the warehouse.

Werner sat in his chair, staring at the two empty cups on the table. A faint lipstick stain from Anna marked the rim of one, glowing a soft red under the light.

He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

’Working with a double agent is like dancing with a knife; one wrong move and you’ll cut yourself.’

But he had no choice.

The Berlin Wall had turned East Berlin into an isolated island where everyone was struggling to survive. Anna needed his channels, and he needed her intelligence and protection. It was a transaction, and also a gamble.

Werner stood up, walked to the window, and replayed his conversation with Anna in his mind.

’What can I get from her? The Stasi’s internal movements, Vonke’s decisions, and the case in the Ministry of Foreign Trade. All useful stuff.’

’But the risk is right there. If she’s exposed, I’m finished too.’

’So I have to be careful. Keep my distance. Don’t put all my eggs in one basket. She’s just a pawn on the chessboard—useful, but not irreplaceable.’

He walked back to the window, gazing out at the night.

The nights in East Berlin were always quiet, unsettlingly so. There was none of the boisterous nightlife of West Berlin, no brightly lit bars and restaurants—only empty streets and the occasional patrol car.

Werner remembered a photo he had seen in a past life, at the Berlin Wall Museum.

It was a black-and-white file photo of a female East German spy. The woman’s face was young, but her eyes were weary. The caption below read: "Maria Schmidt, arrested in West Berlin in 1966, sentenced to ten years in prison. Crime: working for the East German Stasi."

But what the museum didn’t show was the other half of the story—Maria Schmidt had also been an informant for the West German Intelligence Agency. She had played both sides for five years, only to be abandoned by both in the end.

’The end for a double agent is often tragic.’

Werner stubbed out his cigarette and turned back to the table. He took out the sketch of the Isetta and spread it out again.

’First, I need to take care of Joshua’s business. Then I’ll worry about Anna.’

’One step at a time.’

He picked up his pen and added a few more lines to the sketch.

’The secret compartment in the seat back needs to be more concealed. The seams have to be sealed with rubber to prevent probes from getting through. I also need to check the chassis, make sure there are no obvious weld marks.’

The sound of a train came from outside again. This time it approached from a distance, the noise growing louder until it roared past the warehouse, kicking up a gust of wind that made the windows RATTLE.

Werner looked up and out the window.

A freight train was moving slowly along the tracks, the slogan "People’s Economy" printed on its cars. He didn’t know what they were carrying. Maybe coal, maybe steel, maybe something else.

This city was like that train, always moving forward, never knowing its final destination.

Werner pulled his gaze away and continued marking up the sketch.

Outside, the night grew deeper, but the light in the warehouse remained on.

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

Werner stood in a corner of the warehouse, looking at the man before him.

Wolfgang Schulz, thirty-five years old, wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. His hair was thinning, and his eyes were sunken. He wore a faded gray sweater and was constantly wringing his hands, as if he were cold.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Werner asked.

"I’m sure." Wolfgang’s voice trembled slightly. "I can’t stay here any longer."

Werner nodded.

Of the three people Joshua had brought, Wolfgang was the one with no way out.

The other two were East Germans. In theory, they still had a chance. They could slowly apply to leave East Germany through the Church’s humanitarian channels, and maybe one day the government would be in a good mood and let them go.

But not Wolfgang.

A West German who had applied to defect to East Germany, only to want to run back after arriving—politically, it was a terrible look.

The East German Government would never approve it. That would be tantamount to admitting they couldn’t keep people, admitting that the construction of socialism had failed.

So Wolfgang could only take this route: hide in a car and be smuggled across.

"Your weight?" Werner asked.

"Sixty-two kilograms."

"Height?"

"One meter seventy-five."

Werner did a quick calculation in his head and nodded. A man of that size could just barely squeeze into the compartment.

He walked to a corner and pulled back a canvas tarp.

Underneath was a BMW Isetta. With its blue-and-white body and round, bulging front, it looked like a toy.

"This is the car you’ll be riding in," Werner said.

Wolfgang walked over and circled the car.

"It’s so small?"

"Small has its advantages." Werner opened the front door, which swung forward, taking the steering wheel with it. "Get in and try the space behind the driver’s seat."

Wolfgang climbed into the car, and Werner pointed at the back of the driver’s seat.

"See this?" He knocked on the seat back. "It moves."

He pressed a hidden button on the side, and the entire seat back folded forward with a CLICK, revealing a narrow space behind it. The space was only half a meter wide and a meter long, just big enough to hold a curled-up adult.

"You have to hide in here," Werner said.

Wolfgang stared at the space, his face turning pale.

"H-how do I get in?"

"Go in sideways, and curl up," Werner said. "Try it."

Wolfgang hesitated for a moment, then started to squeeze his way in.

He slid one leg in first, then turned sideways, slowly stuffing his entire body into the space. It was a difficult process. His shoulder got stuck on the edge, and Werner had to give him a push.

Finally, Wolfgang was all the way in, curled into a ball with his head buried in his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs.

Werner flipped the seat back into place, and it latched with a CLICK.

From the outside, the driver’s seat back looked perfectly normal, with no sign of anything unusual.

"How is it?" Werner asked.

Wolfgang’s muffled voice came from inside.

"It’s cramped."

"Can you breathe?"

"Yes... barely."

"Can you last for half an hour?"

"I’ll try."

Werner glanced at his watch and lit a cigarette.

Three minutes passed. There was no movement from inside.

Five minutes passed. Wolfgang’s breathing grew ragged.

Eight minutes passed. The seat back began to shake.

"Let me out!" Wolfgang’s voice was filled with panic. "I can’t breathe!"