I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 149: Chapter 59: Multi-Pronged Offensive

This was a multi-front offensive. Every step weakened his foundation, and every move constricted his operational space.

Walter was trying to systematically force him out of the market.

"This was premeditated." Werner looked up, his eyes sharp. "Walter isn’t just trying to grab market share. He wants to force me out completely."

"What do you mean?" Keller asked, stunned.

"First, Walter started a price war to poach my distributors. Then, he spread rumors to get Ivanov’s channel investigated. It’s a multi-front attack, and the goal is to sever all my supply and sales channels."

"Then why doesn’t he just... get rid of you?" Keller asked, making a throat-slitting gesture.

"Because he isn’t sure who’s backing me," Werner sneered. "So he’s probing, gutting my foundation first."

Keller sucked in a sharp breath. "So, what do we do now?"

"You keep tailing Walter. I want detailed information on his Soviet Army channel—who’s involved, what routes they use, and just how big it is."

"Understood." Keller turned to leave, but then he paused. "Boss, what if..."

"There are no ’what ifs’," Werner interrupted. "Either I devour Walter, or he devours me. It’s that simple."

After Keller left, Werner sat alone in his office.

The HISS of the radiator was jarring in the silence. He lit a cigarette, his eyes fixed on the pile of ledgers on the desk.

These ledgers documented all his business over the past year: the vodka from the port, the Church’s charitable goods, the arbitrage at the foreign trade store, Ivanov’s military supplies... Every single entry was a risk, and any one of them could be used as leverage against him.

But there was no turning back.

In East Berlin, you either climbed or got crushed. There was no in-between.

Through the swirling smoke, Werner’s eyes grew cold as ice.

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

The following afternoon, Werner paid a visit to the foreign trade store.

The store was warmly heated, its shelves lined with Western goods: chocolate, coffee, perfume, nylon stockings. A few members of the privileged class, holding foreign exchange certificates, were selecting items while the salesclerk, Eva, stood behind the counter.

"A box of Swiss chocolate," Werner said, approaching the counter and lowering his voice. "And I need to ask you something."

Eva glanced around and whispered, "I have something to tell you, too. Let’s go to the stockroom."

The stockroom, located behind the shop, was piled high with cardboard boxes.

Eva closed the door and turned around. "The Stasi came to question me again."

Werner’s heart sank. "Who was it? Vonke’s men? Or... Anna?"

"Neither." Eva shook her head. "I’ve met Vonke. It wasn’t him, and it wasn’t Anna. I didn’t recognize the men who came this time. They were in plainclothes and spoke very aggressively."

Werner unclenched his fists and began to pace back and forth in the stockroom.

’It must have been Lorentz’s men.’

’It seems Walter isn’t just trying to cut off my supply lines; he’s going after all my channels in East Berlin.’

"We shouldn’t meet for a while," Werner said, stopping to look at Eva. "If anyone else asks, just tell them you haven’t seen me in a long time. Understand?"

Eva bit her lip and nodded.

"And this." Werner pulled a wad of Marks from his coat and pressed it into her hand. "Take it. If anything happens, tell them I threatened you, that I forced you to help me buy things. Push all the responsibility onto me."

"I can’t." Eva pushed the money back. "Werner, I can’t let you take the fall for me..."

"Take it!" Werner’s tone was harsh. "Eva, listen to me. It’s easier for a woman to get out of a situation like this than a man. If it comes to it, you stick to that story. They won’t do anything serious to you."

Clutching the money, Eva nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

Werner sighed. He raised his hand as if to wipe away her tears, but let it drop.

"Take care of Hans." He turned and pushed open the door. "This will all blow over in a little while."

Stepping out of the foreign trade store, the cold wind cut at his face. Werner wrapped his greatcoat tighter around himself and strode toward the tram stop.

He had to see Anna as soon as possible and figure out what exactly was happening within the Stasi.

With Walter targeting him, it was entirely possible that his rival’s connections within the Stasi were also starting to make a move. After all, wiretapping phones was child’s play for the organization.

Although Werner had recently checked his office phone and found no bugs, some things were just not meant for the telephone. Asking Anna face-to-face was the safest way.

The tram stopped on Friedrichstrasse.

After getting off, Werner ducked into a small alley. This was the secret communication method he and Anna had agreed upon—leaving a note in the postbox at the entrance to the alley.

He pulled out a folded slip of paper and slid it into the postbox. The note only contained an address and a time: Saint Louis Church, 7:00 p.m.

Back at the office, Keller was already waiting for him.

"Boss, Walter’s made a move," Keller said. "Last night, he was at the Black Market buying drinks for a crowd. He told everyone that you’re on the Stasi’s radar, your supply lines are unstable, and you can’t even protect yourself. He told them all to follow him instead."

"Anyone take him up on it?"

"Quite a few," Keller said with a bitter smile. "Several of Old Pete’s distributors went over to him. Walter promised them a lower price and guaranteed their safety."

Werner snorted softly and walked to the window. On the street below, several workers were clearing snow, their shovels making a harsh, scraping sound on the ice.

"What else?" he asked without turning back.

"Also... about Ivanov," Keller said. "I found out who reported him. It was a Soviet Army logistics officer named Petrov. He was suddenly transferred to Berlin last month, and rumor has it he’s close with Walter."

Werner spun around. "Are you certain?"

"About eighty percent," Keller nodded. "I asked several people on the Black Market. They all said they’d seen Walter drinking with Petrov."

Werner fell silent.

The threads were coming together. Walter was using Petrov to take down Ivanov and cut off his Soviet Army supply line. Simultaneously, he was leveraging Lorentz’s power within the Stasi to investigate Werner’s other channels. Then, he was using a price war and poaching to eat away at his market share.

It was a combination of blows, each one linked to the next.

Werner lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

"Go make some preparations," he said, crushing out his cigarette. "Starting tomorrow, we fight a price war of our own. Drop our cigarette prices to a tenth of a Mark lower than Walter’s. Get more stock in from the port. We’ll sell at a loss if we have to."

"But we’ll lose a lot of money doing that," Keller said with some hesitation.

"We need to protect our market share for now," Werner said. "Once I get a clear picture of the situation inside the Stasi, we’ll launch our counterattack."

Keller nodded, turned to leave, then paused again. "Boss, I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"Walter is being so blatant about going after you. Isn’t he afraid you’ll strike back?" Keller scratched his head. "You have connections with the Stasi, too."

Werner was silent for a few moments. "He’s trying to test me, to see what cards I’m holding. He figures if I really had a strong backer, I would’ve counterattacked by now. But I haven’t made a move, which suggests to him that I either don’t dare, or I can’t."

"So, is he right?"

Werner looked at Keller, his eyes like ice. "He’s wrong. I’m not afraid to make a move. I’m waiting for the right moment."

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

Saint Louis Church stood on the edge of the city, an unremarkable old chapel. Its gray-white walls were peeling, and the cross on its spire was tilted at an angle. Werner slipped in through a side entrance, crossed the empty sanctuary, and pushed open the back door.

The small courtyard behind it was cluttered with discarded pews and broken holy statues.

Anna stood leaning against a wall, a scarf obscuring most of her face.

"You’re being watched," Anna said without preamble, her voice low.