I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 141: Chapter 51: Photographs

"I want to stop them," Werner said. "But I need proof. You know how it is—without proof, no one will believe me. Photos would change everything."

"Why me?"

"Because you’re a real photographer," Werner said slowly. "I’ve seen a lot of people take pictures, but most of them just press the shutter. You’re different. Your work has power. It makes people see the truth. I saw those photos you took of the Berlin Wall. They were powerful."

Erich didn’t say anything, but Werner could hear his heavy breathing on the other end of the line.

"I won’t have you do this for free," Werner continued. "After you’re done, I’ll pay you two hundred Marks. Also, if you want to keep the negatives and develop a copy for yourself, I have no objection. Maybe those photos will come in handy someday."

"When?" Erich finally spoke, his voice a little tense.

"Tomorrow at two in the afternoon. Go to the basement of seventeen Friedrichstrasse, in the Prenzlauer Berg District." Werner recited the address. "I’ll give you the specific location and details then. You can think it over tonight. If you don’t want to do it, just don’t show up tomorrow."

"I’ll be there," Erich said before hanging up the phone.

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

The next afternoon, Erich showed up at Werner’s office right on time.

The young man, in his twenties, wore a faded gray jacket. His hair was neatly combed, but his face was a little pale, as if he hadn’t slept well. An old camera bag was slung over his shoulder, containing the Leica that Werner had helped him get.

"Mr. Betelich." Erich walked in, glancing around the basement office.

"Sit." Werner pointed to the chair across from him. "Care for something to drink? Coffee or tea?"

"No, thank you." Erich sat down, placing his camera bag on his lap. "Let’s get straight to business."

Werner nodded and pushed a map drawn by Moritz across the desk. "The target is at an abandoned factory in the Treptow District. The exact location is here."

Erich took the map and studied the markings on it.

"There are guards at the factory at night, but only two of them, and they aren’t very alert," Werner said, tapping the map with his finger. "You go in through this side gate, follow the wall, and there’s a pile of scrap material here where you can hide. The goods are piled up in the factory yard, uncovered. You can get clear photos from there."

"What am I shooting?" Erich looked up.

"A few men moving military supplies," Werner said. "The main thing is the markings on the supplies—the Soviet red star. You have to get a clear shot of that. Try to get their faces clearly, too, at least well enough to identify them."

Erich stared at the map, his brow furrowed. "These men you mentioned, what are they selling?"

"Diesel generators, phased out by the Soviet Army," Werner said, leaning back in his chair. "Normally, this stuff should be scrapped or recycled, but someone’s colluding with people in the military to sell it off privately to state-owned enterprises and pocket the profit."

"Is that considered corruption?"

"It is. And the sums involved aren’t small." Werner stubbed out his cigarette. "These people aren’t just breaking the law by selling military supplies; they’re also disrupting the planned economy. The factories that are supposed to procure equipment through official channels are now buying from the Black Market because it’s cheaper. If this goes on, the whole system will fall into chaos."

Erich was silent for a moment, then asked, "Who are you going to give the photos to?"

"The relevant authorities," Werner said vaguely. "Someone will take care of it."

"The Stasi?"

Werner didn’t answer directly, only saying, "This kind of thing has to be dealt with. You know how things are in the country right now—shortages everywhere, people can’t even buy things after waiting in line. If we let these corrupt parasites continue to run rampant, things will only get worse."

Erich stared at Werner for a few seconds, then lowered his head to look at the map again.

"When do I do it?" he asked.

"Around ten o’clock tomorrow night. They’ll be moving a shipment then," Werner said. "Remember, don’t get caught. If you are, just say you were passing by and taking pictures of the night scenery."

Erich nodded, took the Leica out of his camera bag, and checked the lens and shutter. "What’s the lighting like?"

"There are streetlights, but they’re not very bright," Werner said. "You might need to use a flash, but be careful. Don’t make it too obvious."

"I know what to do." Erich put the camera back in the bag and stood up. "Anything else I should be aware of?"

"Just be careful. Stay safe." Werner also stood up and took an envelope from his drawer. "Here’s one hundred Marks as an advance. I’ll give you another hundred after you’re done."

Erich took the envelope, weighed it in his hand, and then put it in his pocket. "If I get the shots, who gets the negatives?"

"Up to you," Werner said. "I just need the photos. You can keep the negatives. But I suggest you don’t go talking about this, and don’t exhibit them. Now isn’t the time to be showing photos like these."

Erich looked at Werner, his expression complicated. "You’re right. Now is not the time."

He slung his camera bag over his shoulder and turned toward the door. When he reached it, he paused without turning back and said, "I’m not doing this for the money."

"I know," Werner said. "You’re doing it to record the truth."

Erich said nothing more, pushed the door open, and left.

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

Two days later, Erich delivered the photos.

When he knocked and entered, his face was weary, but his eyes were bright, as if he had just accomplished something important.

"I got them." He placed a paper bag on the desk. "Twelve shots in total. I picked out the clearest ones."

Werner opened the paper bag, pulled out the photographs, and looked through them one by one.

Every single one was perfectly clear.

Hans Mueller and his men were moving the diesel generators. The Soviet red star on the side of the generators was particularly conspicuous in the photos. There were also a few close-ups of the nameplates on the generators, clear enough to read the Russian letters.

"Excellent." Werner looked up. "You’re very professional."

"Thanks," Erich said. "I kept the negatives. You don’t mind, do you?"

"Not at all." Werner took another envelope from his drawer. "Here’s the remaining one hundred Marks. And an extra fifty, as a bonus."

Erich took the envelope, hesitated for a moment, then put it in his pocket. "What will you do with these photos?"

"Give them to the people who need to see them," Werner said. "Those men will get the punishment they deserve."

Erich nodded, turned to leave, but then stopped. "Mr. Betelich, I want to ask you something."

"Go on."

"Why are you doing this?" Erich turned around to face Werner directly. "You do business on the Black Market too. Why are you reporting other black marketeers?"

Werner was silent for a few seconds, then said slowly, "Because some things have to be done by someone. The Black Market will always exist; that’s just a reality. But if everyone acts completely lawlessly, then this society is truly hopeless."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the gray, hazy sky. "I’m no saint, but I don’t want to see this country rot completely. There are still some lines that must be held."

Erich watched Werner’s back, his expression growing complex.

"I understand," he said. "If you need help again in the future, you can find me."

"I will." Werner turned around and nodded at him. "Be careful on your way out."

After Erich left, Werner locked the photos in his safe, a faint smile touching his lips.

’This young man has ideals, principles, and skills. Most importantly, he believes he’s doing the right thing.’

’People like that are the most useful.’

’Because they’re not motivated by money, but by conviction. And conviction, more often than money, can drive a person to do crazy things.’

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

Three days later, Werner sat in his office, putting a compiled report into a manila envelope.

The report was highly detailed: Hans Mueller’s basic information, a list of his subordinates, the location where the goods were hidden, his trading partners, prices, and schedules.

Most crucially, Werner included the photos taken by Erich.

The evidence was ironclad.

Werner locked the report in his safe and then dialed the number for Von Brown’s office.

"Comrade Von Brown, this is Betelich," Werner said. "I have some important intelligence to report to you."

"Very good." Von Brown sounded like he was in a good mood. "Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. The usual place."