I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 128: Chapter 38: Targeted

This meant... Vonke had indeed found out something Werner hadn’t told him. Calling him directly was a warning.

"What is it?" Werner did his best to make his voice sound calm.

"You’ll know when you get here," Vonke said, then hung up.

Werner gripped the receiver, his palms slick with sweat.

He knew this meeting wouldn’t be simple.

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

After dawn, Werner didn’t go straight home. Instead, he went to a nearby warehouse.

Franz was already there waiting, taking stock of the goods that had arrived yesterday.

"Boss, you didn’t go home last night?" Franz asked, a little surprised to see Werner.

"Slept at the office," Werner said. "Had some things to take care of."

"What things?"

Werner didn’t answer. He walked to the back of the warehouse, where several wooden crates were stacked.

He pried one open. Inside were nylon stockings and cigarettes recently shipped from West Berlin. The invoices for these goods were in the ledgers, but he had already burned those ledgers.

"Move these goods," Werner said. "Spread them out among the other warehouses. Don’t leave them all piled up here."

"Why?" Franz asked.

"Don’t ask why," Werner said. "Just do it."

Franz could tell something was wrong, but he didn’t press the issue. He nodded. "Alright, I’ll arrange it right away."

"Franz." Werner stopped him just as he was about to go arrange for the cargo.

"Boss."

"Don’t contact me for a while," Werner said. "Wait for me to get in touch with you if something comes up."

Franz was stunned. "What’s happened?"

"It’s nothing," Werner said. "It just pays to be careful."

"Boss, don’t scare me." Franz put down the box in his hands and walked over. "Are the Stasi investigating you?"

Werner looked at him, silent for a few seconds, then finally nodded.

The color drained from Franz’s face. "Then what do we do? Should you go into hiding for a while?"

"There’s no hiding," Werner said. "If the Stasi want to investigate you, it’s useless no matter where you hide. I can only deal with them and try my best not to slip up."

"Then what can I do to help?"

"Get the goods moved and the ledgers completely destroyed," Werner said. "Also, if anyone comes asking you about me, just say you don’t know anything. You just help me watch the warehouse, and you’re not clear on anything else."

"Understood," Franz said. "But Boss, you have to be careful. Those Stasi guys are not to be trifled with."

"I know." Werner patted his shoulder. "You be careful, too."

After leaving the warehouse, Werner returned to his office and lit a cigarette.

He stared at the phone on his desk, thinking about the call from Vonke in the early hours of the morning.

’How did Vonke know this number? The Stasi must have found something. Maybe it was the phone company’s records, or maybe the people tailing me saw me come here.’

’Regardless, this office isn’t safe anymore.’

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

At 1:30 in the afternoon, Werner arrived early at the appointed location.

It was a small, old café near the Spree River with few customers.

Werner ordered a coffee and sat in a corner seat with his back to the wall. From there, he could see the entrance and the entire café. He pulled an ashtray toward him, lit a cigarette, and tried his best to look relaxed.

At two o’clock sharp, Vonke pushed open the door and entered.

He wore a dark gray overcoat, his hair was neatly combed, and his leather shoes were shined brightly. Werner noticed he wasn’t carrying a briefcase, which was a good sign—if this were an official meeting, Vonke would have brought files.

Vonke sat down across from Werner, took off his overcoat, and draped it over the back of the chair.

A waiter came over, but he waved a hand. "No, thank you. I’m not having anything."

Only after the waiter was out of earshot did Vonke speak. "You’ve been busy lately."

"It’s been alright," Werner said. "The Black Market business is never-ending."

"So busy you don’t even go home?" Vonke stared into his eyes. "Where were you last night?"

Werner’s heart clenched, but he kept his expression neutral. "I was at the office handling some things. It got too late, so I slept there."

"What kind of business needs to be handled until three in the morning?"

"Taking inventory, organizing the books," Werner said. "That’s business for you. There’s always more to do."

Vonke didn’t reply, just watched him.

It was a look Werner knew well, as if Vonke were trying to see through something, or perhaps waiting for something.

"Betelich," Vonke finally spoke, his voice calm. "We’ve known each other for almost a year. In that time, you’ve provided me with a great deal of useful intelligence. But recently, I’ve noticed you’ve started holding back on me."

"What do you mean?" Werner asked.

"Joshua Schlotter," Vonke said. "He’s contacted you, hasn’t he?"

Werner was silent for a few seconds.

He knew he couldn’t deny it completely; it would sound too fake.

"He has," Werner said. "A few months ago."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted me to smuggle people for him," Werner said. "But I refused."

Vonke leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Smuggle people? Not buy supplies?"

Werner understood what Vonke was implying.

Vonke had previously shown him a photo of Joshua, explaining he was a West German spy looking to acquire supplies for escapees. He had ordered Werner to report immediately if Joshua ever tried to buy such supplies from him. But Joshua hadn’t asked about supplies; he had asked about smuggling people.

"He did mention buying supplies," Werner said. "But then he said he wanted me to help him smuggle people out, saying the families of political prisoners were willing to pay a high price."

"And you refused?"

"Of course I refused," Werner said. "I’m not an idiot. Smuggling people is a serious crime. I can’t afford to get involved in that."

"Then why didn’t you tell me immediately?" Vonke stared into his eyes. "I told you before, if Joshua contacts you, you are to report it at once."

Werner feigned hesitation. "I... I was afraid of getting into trouble. Smuggling people is too serious. I was afraid of getting dragged into it. So I thought if I refused, that would be the end of it. I didn’t want any further involvement."

"So you hid it from me?"

"I wasn’t hiding it," Werner said. "I just... didn’t want trouble. I thought if I refused, the matter would be closed."

Vonke watched him, silent for a long time. Werner could feel him weighing whether his words were true or false.

"The Berlin Wall went up, so of course his plan would change," Vonke said. "Originally, he was trying to gather intelligence and, on the side, help some people get escape supplies. But after the Wall was built, those supplies became useless. He had no choice but to switch to smuggling people."

"I really didn’t know," Werner said.

"You know more than you’re letting on," Vonke said. "Betelich, I’ll ask you one more time—did you help Joshua smuggle people?"

"No." Werner looked him straight in the eye. "I swear, I didn’t. I wouldn’t touch something like that."

Vonke was silent for a few seconds. Then he slowly leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower. "Several political prisoners have escaped recently, and through a very professional channel."

He leaned forward again, so close he was almost in Werner’s face. "Who do you think... is helping them?"

Vonke’s tone carried a certainty, as if he already had evidence and was just waiting for Werner to confess.

The air seemed to freeze. Those eyes locked onto Werner, as if to say, ’I know it was you. I’m just giving you one last chance.’

Werner’s fingers tightened slightly, but he forced himself to remain calm.

He took a deep breath, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "I don’t know."

He paused, meeting Vonke’s gaze. "But it wasn’t me. Maybe Joshua found someone else. Maybe he has his own channels. I’m just a businessman. I wouldn’t risk my life like that."

Vonke fell silent again.

He took a cigarette case from his pocket, pulled one out, and lit it. He took a drag and exhaled slowly.

"Betelich, I don’t care if you helped Joshua or not," Vonke said. "But let me warn you—helping political prisoners escape is a felony. If you get caught, not only are you finished, but everyone who helped you will go down as well. All your Black Market channels will be implicated."

"I understand," Werner said.

"One more thing." Vonke lowered his voice. "If Joshua contacts you again, no matter what he says, you tell me immediately. Is that clear? Immediately."

"I will," Werner said.

Vonke looked at him, an unreadable expression in his eyes. ’Suspicion? Disappointment? Or was he waiting for him to slip up?’

"See that you do." Vonke stood up and put on his overcoat. "Our superiors are also investigating this case. The pressure is on. If you really know any leads, you have to tell me. It’s not just to help me, but to help yourself."

"I understand," Werner said.

Vonke pushed open the door and left.

Werner remained seated and lit a cigarette.

His hand was trembling slightly, but he forced himself to calm down.

He knew Vonke still suspected him but simply lacked proof. The entire conversation had been a test; Vonke had been probing, waiting for him to slip up.

Thankfully, he had prepared his story in advance.

Admit that Joshua had contacted him, but deny helping him smuggle people. This explained why he hadn’t reported it immediately, while also clearing his own name.

But this was only a temporary reprieve. Vonke wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily, and neither would the Stasi.

Werner finished his coffee, paid the bill, and left the café.

A light snow was falling outside, and the streets were mostly empty.

He wrapped his overcoat tighter and walked in the direction of his home.

After a few steps, he suddenly felt that someone was following him from behind.

He didn’t turn around. Instead, he turned the corner at the next intersection and ducked into a bookstore.

Through the bookstore’s glass window, he saw a man in a gray overcoat walk past on the other side of the street.

The man wasn’t walking fast, his eyes scanning everywhere. He was clearly looking for someone.

Werner’s heart sank.

’The Stasi were tailing him.’