I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 162: Chapter 72: An Intelligence Network Independent of the System

’Thirty-eight percent... Not a high probability, but I can’t afford to be careless.’

He thought for a moment, picked up the phone, and dialed Pastor Weber’s number.

"Pastor Weber, this is Werner."

"Oh, Werner!" Pastor Weber’s gentle voice came through the receiver. "Is something the matter?"

"It’s like this, Pastor. I’ve just negotiated a new partnership and can get my hands on some scarce goods. I’d like to donate a batch to the Church. Also, the textile plant is willing to give us their scrap materials. After we process them, we’ll donate a portion of that as well."

"This is wonderful news," Weber said, sounding pleased.

"But I’d like to invite you to come to the warehouse tomorrow to help look things over," Werner said in a sincere tone. "After all, these supplies will ultimately be given to the faithful. I want you to personally inspect the quality and observe our operational procedures, to ensure everything is done by the book."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then Weber’s voice came through, tinged with gratification. "Werner, it’s very good of you to proactively invite my oversight. I’m free tomorrow afternoon. How about three o’clock?"

"Three o’clock is perfect. I’ll have someone pick you up."

"No, no, that’s not necessary. I can make my own way there."

After hanging up, Werner exhaled a plume of smoke, a slight smile playing on his lips.

’Better to invite him to "supervise" proactively than to wait for his suspicion to grow. Let him see the actual process, see the poor who are genuinely being helped... His doubts will naturally disappear.’

’Besides, this also sends a message to the other churches: Work with me, and you get transparent books, a clear process, and absolute peace of mind.’

The following afternoon, Werner stood at the warehouse entrance, waiting for Pastor Weber.

The warehouse was already set up. On the left were stacks of food and clothing ready for distribution. On the right were three rows of long tables, with several Church volunteers sitting behind them, registering aid recipients. In a corner, two seamstresses were mending a pile of fabric, the sewing machines going CLACK-CLACK-CLACK.

A long line had already formed at the entrance, mostly elderly people and children in shabby clothes.

"Werner!" Pastor Weber walked over, beaming. "What a wonderful sight."

"It’s all thanks to your support, Pastor." Werner supported him as they walked inside. "Come, let me first show you how the fabric is processed."

He led Weber to the corner and pointed at the pile of fabric. "You see, this is all material from the textile plant. Some of it is defective, but it’s still usable. We hired two seamstresses to repair the usable parts and make them into clothes, bedsheets, scarves..."

Weber examined it closely and nodded. "The quality isn’t bad. Better than I expected."

"This is Margaret and Anna, both residents from the neighborhood," Werner explained. "They’re paid by the piece—two Marks per item."

The two seamstresses quickly stood up and greeted the pastor, a bit shyly.

"Two Marks an item?" Weber was a little surprised. "Werner, that’s not a low wage."

"It’s what they deserve, Pastor," Werner smiled. "They work hard and have families to support. Besides, look how carefully they work—the stitches are very tight. When the poor get these, they’ll last for at least a year or two."

Watching the two seamstresses working with such concentration, Weber’s gaze softened. "Good, good. That’s the right way to do it. When doing charity, you must also take care of those who do the work."

Werner then showed him the ledgers, which clearly recorded the source, quantity, and destination of every batch of goods.

"This batch of scrap material—two tons from the Schmidt Textile Plant, under a donation agreement," Werner said, pointing at the ledger. "After being processed into finished goods, it’s distributed to the families registered with the Church as being in need."

"This batch of candy and soap, I procured through quota channels; I have the charitable procurement certificate." He turned to another page. "A portion of it is donated to the Church for regular charitable distribution. The other portion..."

He paused, looking at Weber. "I will sell it to make a small profit and subsidize the costs."

Weber looked up, his eyes sharp as he stared at him.

Werner met his gaze unflinchingly. "Pastor, let’s not beat around the bush. I’m a businessman, and I need to make money. But I guarantee that every single thing donated to the Church is the real deal. You can check the books anytime, and you can inspect the goods anytime. I make my profit on the Black Market price difference, not from charity money."

Weber was silent for a moment, then sighed. "Werner, I appreciate your honesty."

He patted Werner’s shoulder. "As long as you maintain this bottom line, you’re free to use the Church’s channels. But remember..."

The old priest’s voice became both gentle and stern. "Charity is about helping people, not a tool. I can understand you making money from this, but don’t forget your original intention. If one day, charity becomes nothing more than a front for you, and the poor no longer receive genuine help..."

He shook his head. "Werner, I would be very disappointed in you then."

Werner nodded solemnly. "Rest assured, Pastor. That day will never come."

Weber took another tour of the warehouse, observing the distribution process, checking the quality of the goods, and watching the smiles on the faces of the poor who received them. Finally, he said with satisfaction, "Werner, you’ve done a fine job. On behalf of those who suffer, I thank you."

"It’s nothing, Pastor," Werner said, lowering his head humbly. "But I have another idea I’d like to ask for your help with."

"What idea is that?"

"I want to build an information network." Werner led him to the office. "You see, our charitable activities are currently concentrated around a few major churches, but East Berlin is so large. There are poor people in many corners that we simply can’t reach."

He spread a map out. "If we could establish a network, making every church an ’information point’ to gather information from its surroundings—which families are in hardship, who needs help, who has goods to donate... and then coordinate it all centrally, our efficiency would be much higher."

Weber pondered for a moment. "You mean..."

"I can provide the funding and manpower, and you would be responsible for coordinating the pastors of the various churches," Werner said sincerely. "This way, we can help more people, and the Church’s influence will also expand, wouldn’t you agree?"

Weber’s eyes lit up. "That’s an excellent idea! I’ve long wanted to connect the various churches, but I never had the right opportunity..."

"Then it’s settled." Werner shook his hand. "I’ll start making arrangements tomorrow."

After seeing Weber off, Keller emerged from a corner, giving a thumbs-up. "Boss, that was brilliant. You’ve got the priest wrapped around your finger, even got him to help us build our network."

"Don’t celebrate too early." Werner’s smile vanished. "The network needs to be built, but not haphazardly. Listen, we’ll send one of our people to each church, nominally as a ’volunteer,’ but in reality, they’ll be our eyes and ears, and they’ll be recording things for us."

"Record what?"

"Everything." Werner lit a cigarette. "Who suddenly came into money, who’s been buying contraband recently, who has connections in West Berlin, who’s unhappy with the government... Record it all."

"This..." Keller hesitated. "Boss, isn’t this the kind of work the Stasi does?"

"The Stasi?" Werner sneered. "Can they infiltrate every church, every community, every family? We can. Because we operate under the banner of ’charity,’ and because we are genuinely helping people."

He walked to the window, looking out at the gray sky. "Keller, you need to understand something. In this city, information is money, and intelligence is power. What we’re building isn’t just a charity network; it’s an intelligence network."

"Some of this information goes to Lainer, to make him see our value. Some we keep for ourselves, to judge market trends and mitigate risks. And the rest..."

He paused. "Can be sold to those who need it."

Keller sucked in a sharp breath. "Boss, you’re trying to..."

"I’m trying to build a system that no one can leave." Werner turned, his eyes cold. "The Church can’t do without me, because I give them supplies and a network. The poor can’t do without me, because I give them a way to survive. The officials can’t do without me, because I can get them what they want. The Stasi can’t do without me, because I can provide them with intelligence."

"And..." He smiled. "Everyone thinks I’m a good person, a ’Robin Hood,’ a ’charitable smuggler.’"