I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 122: Chapter 32: Soviet Officer

The three men walked over to the Isetta.

The inspector stood to the side, his hands clasped behind his back. He said nothing, just stared at the car.

Matthias bent down to look at Jonas.

"Please step out of the car." His voice was a little harder than usual.

Jonas opened the car door and got out.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Routine inspection," Matthias said.

His gaze swept over Jonas’s face, lingering for less than a second before moving away. Werner couldn’t tell if there was a warning or reassurance in that look.

"Open the front storage compartment," Matthias said.

Jonas walked to the front of the car and opened the compartment. Inside were a Bible and a few documents.

Matthias picked up the Bible, flipped through it, glanced at the documents, and then nodded.

"Push the driver’s seat forward."

Jonas complied. As he pushed the driver’s seat forward, it revealed the small space behind—a space so small it could only hold a bag.

But Wolfgang wasn’t there.

He was inside the seat back.

Matthias bent down to check the space behind, shining a flashlight around before straightening up.

Just then, the inspector spoke.

"The seat," he said. "Check the seat."

Matthias’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Peter," he said, turning to the young soldier. "Get the probe."

Peter ran back to the guardhouse and brought out a long metal probe. It was about a meter long with a sharp point, like a spear.

Werner’s fingers tightened on the windowsill, his nails digging into the wood.

Matthias took the probe and walked over to the car.

He first prodded the seat cushion. The probe sank in easily and came out again, leaving a small hole in the foam.

Then, he aimed the probe at the seat back.

Werner held his breath.

The probe pierced the foam of the seat back with a soft puff.

Matthias jabbed it again, this time in a different spot, near the center of the seat back.

The probe sank in again.

The inspector took a step forward, his eyes fixed on Matthias’s movements.

Matthias moved the probe lower, aiming for the bottom of the seat back.

This time, the probe sank in and then stopped short.

Matthias’s hand paused.

The inspector’s eyes narrowed.

"What’s wrong?"

"Hit a support brace," Matthias said, his voice flat. "This car’s seat has a metal frame."

He pulled the probe out, changed the angle, and jabbed it into the side of the seat back.

This time, it went in without any trouble.

The inspector walked over and ran his hand along the seat back. He pressed his fingers into its side, pushing down hard.

The seat back didn’t move an inch.

"Can the seat in this car be removed?" the inspector asked.

Jonas’s expression faltered.

"Theoretically," he said. "But you’d need tools. It’s the original seat, very sturdy."

"You’re from Munich?"

"Yes."

"What’s your job?"

"I’m a Church volunteer," Jonas said. "Youth education program. I organize events."

"How many times have you been to East Berlin?"

"This is my first time."

"Your first time?" The inspector’s eyes narrowed to slits. "And you drove here alone?"

"It was arranged by the Church," Jonas said.

The inspector said nothing, simply staring into Jonas’s eyes.

The air crackled with tension.

Werner’s palms were slick with sweat.

’If the inspector insists on removing the seat, it’s all over. Wolfgang will be found, Jonas will be arrested, and Matthias will be implicated.’

’And I won’t be able to get away, either.’

Just then, a black Volga sedan pulled up on the other side of the barrier.

It was the kind of car used exclusively by Soviet officers.

The car stopped at the checkpoint. A window rolled down, revealing a face under a large, peaked cap.

"What’s the hold-up?" the officer yelled in Russian. "Why isn’t the barrier open? I’m in a hurry!"

The inspector turned and glanced at the Volga.

"One moment," he replied in Russian, then turned to Matthias. "Finish the inspection. If there’s nothing, let him go."

Matthias looked momentarily stunned, then nodded.

"Peter, check the undercarriage with the mirror," he said.

Peter fetched the long-handled mirror and swept it under the car.

"All clear," he said, emerging from beneath the vehicle.

Matthias handed the papers back to Jonas.

"You can go."

Jonas took the papers, got in the car, and started the engine.

The barrier lifted, and the Isetta slowly rolled through the checkpoint.

Just as the car was about to drive out of sight, the inspector suddenly called out, "Wait."

The Isetta stopped.

Werner’s heart leaped into his throat.

The inspector walked to the side of the car, bent down, and looked at Jonas.

"Next time, bring a partner," he said. "It’s not safe to drive for so long alone."

Jonas nodded.

"I will. Thank you for the warning."

The inspector straightened up and patted the roof of the car.

"Go on."

The Isetta started up again and vanished in the direction of West Berlin.

The Volga drove through the checkpoint right after.

Werner sagged against the wall, letting out a long, slow breath. His back was completely soaked in sweat.

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

At nine o’clock that night, Joshua knocked on the warehouse door.

Werner opened it, and Joshua practically burst inside, an irrepressible smile on his face.

"We did it!" he said, his voice low. "Wolfgang made it across!"

Werner shut the door.

"How do you know?"

"I have my own channels," Joshua said. "My contact in West Berlin sent word. Wolfgang has already seen his parents. They thought they’d never see their son again. His mother hugged him and cried so hard she fainted."

Werner lit a cigarette without a word.

"Werner, do you realize?" Joshua walked over and gripped his hand. "You saved a family. You didn’t just save Wolfgang; you saved his parents, too."

"And the money?" Werner asked.

Joshua pulled a thick envelope from his coat.

"Twenty thousand West German Marks." He placed the envelope on the table. "It’s from Wolfgang’s parents. They said they can get more if it isn’t enough."

Werner opened the envelope, counted the money, and put it away in a drawer.

"It’s enough."

Watching him, Joshua’s smile slowly faded.

"When can the next one go?"

"I don’t know," Werner said. "A month, at least."

"A month?" Joshua frowned. "Why so long?"

"We need to lay low," Werner said. "You didn’t see the inspection today. It was a close call. We were almost exposed."

"But the others—"

"The others will have to wait, no matter how desperate they are," Werner cut him off. "And don’t come looking for me for a while. The Stasi has eyes everywhere. Meeting this frequently will arouse suspicion."

Joshua was silent for a moment.

"Alright," he said at last. "How do I contact you, then?"

"Through Pastor Weber," Werner said. "Have him relay any messages."

"Understood." Joshua stood up. "I’ll be going."

He walked to the door, then turned back.

"Werner, thank you."

Werner waved his hand dismissively.

"Don’t thank me," he said. "It’s just business."

Not long after Joshua left, Matthias showed up.

He took off his uniform jacket and threw it on a chair, looking utterly exhausted.

"Give me one of those," he said.

Werner handed him a cigarette. Matthias lit it and took a deep drag.

"That scared the shit out of me," he said.

"I could tell," Werner replied. "Was the inspector’s visit unexpected?"

"Yeah," Matthias said. "Word came down from the brass this afternoon. A surprise inspection. I had no time to prepare."

He exhaled a plume of smoke.

"It’s a damn good thing that Soviet car showed up," he said. "If the inspector had actually made us dismantle that seat, we would have been finished."

"That Soviet officer—"