I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 127: Chapter 37: Midnight Call

"I’m just saying, if you ever need help, you can come to me," Vogel said. "I’m a lawyer, but I’m also a businessman. As long as the price is right, I can help with anything."

Werner looked at him without saying a word.

Vogel was a shrewd man—so shrewd it made you uneasy. But that very shrewdness was what made him worth working with.

"I’ll keep that in mind," Werner said.

The two men clinked their glasses and downed their drinks.

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

By the time he returned to his apartment, it was already dark.

Werner pushed open the door to find Eva sitting in the living room.

She was wearing a gray sweater, her hair loosely draped over her shoulders, and her face looked a bit haggard.

Werner froze for a moment before remembering—he had given her the spare key last week.

The reason at the time had sounded practical: if there was an urgent matter, at least she could find him.

But now, seeing Eva on his sofa, the dim yellow light falling on her shoulders, he realized the weight of that gesture was heavier than he had thought.

Eva was the first person to have a key.

He couldn’t quite define his feelings for Eva.

To call them partners was too distant. To call them friends wasn’t quite accurate either.

Especially after what happened at the warehouse—that moment when they almost kissed, her breath, the emotion in her eyes that nearly made him lose control—he had been the one to stop, but that line had been crossed forever.

Perhaps it was precisely because he couldn’t define it that he had given her the key.

It was as if by not defining it, he could let this ambiguity linger, letting that unfinished kiss hang between them, avoiding any need to make a choice.

"Why are you here?" Werner asked.

"I wanted to see you," Eva said. "There’s something I need to tell you."

Werner sat down. "What is it?"

Eva hesitated for a moment, then finally said, "The Stasi came to see me again. It wasn’t Anna, it was other Stasi agents."

Werner’s heart tightened. "When?"

"Yesterday," Eva said. "They asked me what you’ve been doing lately, who you’ve been in contact with, and where you’ve been going."

"What did you say?"

"I told them I didn’t know," Eva said. "I said I just work at the foreign trade store, and that we’re just casual friends."

Werner breathed a sigh of relief. "Did they believe you?"

"I don’t know." Eva shook her head. "But they told me to keep an eye on you and report anything unusual immediately."

Werner was silent for a few seconds. "Did they threaten you?"

"No," Eva said. "But I can feel it. They suspect you."

Werner stood up and walked to the window.

The street outside was quiet, with only the streetlights casting a dim yellow glow on the snow. He knew Vonke wouldn’t let him off the hook easily, but he hadn’t expected him to target Eva so quickly.

"Are you scared?" Werner asked.

"Yes," Eva said. "But I won’t betray you."

Werner turned around and looked at her. "Why?"

"Because you helped me," Eva said. "Because you promised you would get me to West Berlin."

Werner walked back and sat down beside her. "I will. But not right now. You have to wait a little longer."

"I can wait," Eva said. "But you have to be careful. The Stasi are not to be trifled with."

"I know," Werner said.

Eva stood up and walked toward the door. When she reached it, she turned back. "Werner, if I really do make it to West Berlin one day, will you miss me?"

Werner looked at her, but didn’t say a word.

Eva smiled, a bitter-tinged smile. "Never mind. Forget I asked."

She pushed open the door and disappeared into the night.

Werner sat in the living room and lit a cigarette.

The smoke rose slowly in the dim light, like the fate of everyone in this city—drifting, uncertain, with no one knowing where it would end up.

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

The next morning, Werner went to the warehouse as usual.

The snow on the roads had been cleared, revealing the gray-black asphalt. Under the gloomy winter sky, the buildings on either side looked even more oppressive.

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his mind replaying what Eva had told him last night.

The Stasi sending people to see Eva was no coincidence.

Vonke had clearly begun investigating him. He just didn’t have any concrete evidence yet, which was why he was starting with the people around him, trying to find a weak point.

Werner knew exactly where his biggest vulnerability was—Joshua.

Joshua was from the West German intelligence service, and the Stasi had been hunting him.

If Vonke found out that Werner was in contact with Joshua, let alone helping him transport escapees, it would all be over. It wouldn’t just be the business; his life would be forfeit.

He had to warn Joshua immediately, tell him to lie low and stay away. At least until the heat died down and Vonke turned his attention elsewhere.

Werner stood in the warehouse and lit a cigarette.

He knew this wasn’t a long-term solution.

Vonke wouldn’t give up easily, and all Werner could do was stall for as long as possible, preventing him from finding any leverage. But he had no idea how long he could keep this up.

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

Werner locked up the warehouse, cut through a few alleyways, and arrived beneath an abandoned bridge pier by the Spree River.

This was the secret contact point he and Joshua had agreed upon.

Hidden in a stone crevice of the pier was a small iron box. They used it to pass urgent messages and never used the phone—the Stasi could be listening in at any time.

Werner pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. On it were written a few brief words: "Suspend contact. Risk."

He stuffed the note into the iron box, closed the lid, and then drew an inconspicuous mark on the base of the pier with a piece of chalk—an inverted triangle. It was their agreed-upon signal for "new message."

Having done all this, Werner wiped the chalk dust from his hands and disappeared into the night.

Joshua checked this spot every few days. He would see the mark, read the note, and understand that now was not the time to meet.

Back at the warehouse, Werner began to clear out his ledgers.

The books that recorded smuggled goods and the transport of political prisoners had to be destroyed immediately. He tore the pages out one by one, tossing them into a metal drum to burn. Flames leaped in the darkness, and paper ash drifted through the air.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time he finished burning the ledgers.

Werner was exhausted. It was too far to go back to his apartment, so he decided to sleep in the small office at the warehouse. The office was spartan, containing only a desk, two chairs, and a telephone.

He’d had the phone installed some time ago to handle business matters, but he never used it to discuss transporting people due to the risk of being monitored by the Stasi.

He had just sat down in a chair when the phone rang.

Werner froze.

’Who would be calling this late?’

Besides, he had only given the office number to Keller, Franz, and Eva. Not even Pastor Weber knew it.

He picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Tomorrow, two p.m., the usual place," came Vonke’s low voice.

Werner’s heart sank.

’How did Vonke know this number?’

He had never told Vonke this phone number.