I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 153: Chapter 63: Setting the Bait

The silence lasted for several seconds.

"I need time to think." Werner looked up, his expression troubled and his voice low. "This isn’t a small matter."

"Fine." Walter nodded. "Three days. Give me your answer in three days. But Betelich," his tone turned cold, "I advise you to think it over carefully."

"I understand." Werner stood up and said evenly, "Then I’ll see you in three days."

Stepping out of the tavern, a cold wind hit him in the face.

Werner pulled up his scarf, and the "troubled" expression on his face instantly vanished, replaced by a cold sneer.

Walter was far too confident. He thought he’d gained the upper hand at the negotiating table.

He thought that with Lorentz backing him and Sokolov as his source, he could do whatever he pleased.

But he didn’t know that Werner had already paved the way to his utter ruin.

Werner turned into a small alley at the street corner. After confirming no one was following him, he walked quickly to the nearest phone booth. He inserted a coin and dialed a number.

"Hello?" The voice of Reiner von Brown came from the other end of the line.

"Reiner, it’s me, Werner." Werner lowered his voice. "I have some important intelligence to report in person."

The other end was silent for a few seconds. "Tomorrow at three in the afternoon. The usual place."

"Alright." Werner hung up and left the phone booth.

The next afternoon, Werner arrived promptly at a café on Frankfurt Street. Reiner was already waiting for him, two steaming cups of coffee on the table.

"Sit." Reiner gestured to the chair opposite him. "What is it?"

Werner sat down but didn’t speak immediately, instead scanning his surroundings.

They were in a corner, with only a single window nearby, its curtains drawn tightly shut.

"Relax, no one’s listening." Reiner picked up his coffee and took a sip. "Go on."

"Comrade Reiner, I’ve heard some rumors on the Black Market." Werner lowered his voice. "Inside the Soviet Army... it seems there’s a large-scale loss of military supplies. Tobacco, tires, fuel—the quantities are huge."

Reiner put down his coffee cup, his eyes narrowing. "How do you know?"

"I get around the Black Market; you’re bound to hear things," Werner said. "Recently, a lot of Soviet-spec goods have suddenly appeared on the market, at prices much lower than normal channels. I felt something was off, so I made some inquiries."

"And what did you find out?" Reiner leaned forward.

"Some people say it’s coming from the quartermaster’s department." Werner feigned hesitation. "But I’m not sure. They’re just rumors, after all."

"And if it’s true?" A glint appeared in Reiner’s eyes.

"If it’s true, then it’s a major case," Werner said. "Soviet Army supplies... that’s no small amount. If the Stasi could crack this case..."

"That would indeed be a great accomplishment." Reiner leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the table. "Can you help with the investigation?"

"I can try," Werner said. "But Comrade Reiner, this is dangerous. If it really involves high-ranking Soviet officers..."

"You just investigate. I’ll guarantee your safety," Reiner cut him off. "Werner, if this intelligence is solid, we’ll share the credit."

Werner put on a look of being both surprised and flattered. "Then I’ll certainly do my best."

"Excellent." Reiner stood and patted Werner on the shoulder. "Contact me anytime you have news. Remember, this is confidential. Don’t let anyone else know."

"Understood." Werner stood up as well.

Leaving the café, the corner of Werner’s mouth curved into a smile.

The bait was cast, and Reiner had taken the hook. All that was left was to slowly reel in the line and land his fish.

But Reiner alone wasn’t enough. To completely crush Walter, he needed to dismantle his team from the inside.

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

"Boss, I did as you asked and investigated Walter’s men." Franz handed him a piece of paper. "This is his core team."

Werner took the paper. A few names were listed on it:

Hans Stein, 45, Walter’s second-in-command, responsible for logistics and allocation.

Kurt Meyer, 38, warehouse manager.

Emil Braun, 42, responsible for Black Market distribution.

Friedrich Weber, 40, responsible for transport.

"What’s this Hans guy like?" Werner asked, pointing to the first name.

"He’s been with Walter for over a decade, an old-timer," Franz said. "But it seems he’s not getting what he thinks he deserves. I asked around. Walter lets him manage the goods, but he’s never included in core decisions. And he’s stingy with the profits, only gives him a ten percent cut."

"Ten percent?" Werner’s eyebrow shot up. "After more than a decade of work, he only gets ten percent?"

"Yeah." Franz nodded. "That’s why everyone on the Black Market says Hans is resentful, he just doesn’t dare act on it."

Werner stared at the name, his fingers tapping gently on the desk.

’Hans, forty-five years old, with Walter for over a decade, but never given the respect he deserves. This kind of man is the easiest to turn.’

"Go make contact with him," Werner said, looking up. "Do it privately, so Walter doesn’t find out. Test him with money first. Say someone wants his help getting some information on their supply sources and is willing to pay one thousand Marks."

"A thousand Marks?" Franz whistled. "Boss, that’s not a small sum."

"I know," Werner said. "But to pry open Hans’s mouth, you have to be willing to spend big."

"Understood." Franz folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. "I’ll find a chance to approach him."

"Remember, be natural about it," Werner reminded him. "Don’t let him think it’s a trap. Just say there’s a big buyer on the Black Market who wants to understand Walter’s supply chain and is willing to pay a consultation fee."

"Don’t worry, I know how to handle it." Franz turned to leave, then stopped. "Boss, what if Hans refuses?"

"Then offer more money." Werner gave a cold smile. "Everyone has a price; it’s just a matter of how much. Hans has worked under Walter for over ten years for a mere ten percent cut. It’s impossible for him not to be resentful. My job is to turn that resentment into betrayal."

Franz nodded and left.

Werner was alone in the office once more.

He walked to the window and lit a cigarette.

On the street below, a few workers were repairing the damaged road surface, the dull thud of their hammers striking stone echoing upwards.

Werner exhaled a cloud of smoke, running through the next steps in his mind.

Every step from here on was fraught with risk. Reiner might get suspicious, Hans could refuse to cooperate, Vonke might not be able to protect him, the Danish tobacco might not get through... if any single part of the chain broke, the entire plan would collapse.

But Werner had no way out.

Lorentz was watching him, Walter was pressuring him, Eva’s channel had been compromised, and things at the port were precarious.

If he didn’t take the offensive, the market share he had just secured in the Black Market would be devoured piece by piece, until not even the bones were left.

Werner stubbed out his cigarette and walked back to his desk.

He pulled open a drawer, took out the photographs and record sheets, and looked them over again.

In the photos, a Soviet Army truck was parked at the entrance of an abandoned brewery, with several soldiers unloading cargo.

Tobacco, tires, fuel drums... all these supplies, which should have gone to Soviet soldiers, were flowing into the East Berlin Black Market through the hands of Sokolov and Walter.

Werner locked the photos back in the drawer, turned off the light, and left the office.

He pushed open the building’s main door. Night had completely fallen.

Werner pulled up his scarf and disappeared into the night.

In a corner of East Berlin, Walter was in his basement taking inventory, a smug smile on his face.

In a secret Stasi office, Lorentz was reviewing an investigation report on Werner, his gaze grim.

In a Soviet Army barracks, Sokolov had just completed another supply transfer and was forging documents to cover up the deficit.

Everyone was maneuvering in the shadows, waiting for the moment that would decide their fates.

And Werner had already placed all his pieces on the board.

Now, it was just a matter of who would collapse first.

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

The three-day deadline hadn’t even arrived when Walter’s men showed up.

Werner was in his office organizing his ledgers when a loud KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK sounded at the door.

Franz opened the door to find two burly men standing outside—both of them Walter’s enforcers.

"Is Betelich here?" one of them, a bald bruiser, asked curtly.

"He is." Franz blocked the doorway. "What do you want?"

"Boss Walter sent us to ask how Betelich’s consideration is coming along." The bald bruiser peered inside. "The three days are almost up. He ought to have an answer, right?"

Werner put down his ledger and walked to the door. "Go back and tell Walter I need to see the strength of his supply chain first. Talk is cheap. I need to see the real goods."

The bald bruiser was taken aback for a moment and exchanged a look with his partner. "What do you mean?"

"My meaning is simple." Werner leaned against the doorframe, his tone calm. "Walter says his supply is plentiful, so let’s see it. If it’s really as he claims, I’ll naturally make my decision."

"You’re stalling!" The bald bruiser’s expression changed.

"I’m being cautious," Werner said. "Could anyone survive doing business in East Berlin without being careful?"

The bald bruiser stared at Werner for a few seconds before finally snorting coldly. "I’ll pass on the message. But Betelich, Boss Walter’s patience is limited."

"I know." Werner nodded. "The three-day deadline isn’t up yet, is it?"

After the two bruisers left, Franz closed the door. "Boss, Walter isn’t going to let this go."

"I know." Werner walked back to his desk and sat down. "But this is precisely the time to remain steady. People who are in a hurry make mistakes, and people who make mistakes reveal their weaknesses."

Sure enough, Walter’s retaliation began the very next day.