I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 163: Chapter 73: Robin Hood’s Trap

Keller swallowed hard, speechless for a long moment.

"Go on, get it done," Werner said with a wave of his hand. "Remember, the people you find must be reliable. Tight-lipped and sharp-eyed."

"Understood."

Keller had just left when the door was pushed open again.

Hank ran in, panting. "Boss! We have a problem!"

"What is it?" Werner frowned.

"Someone’s using our name to run a scam in the North District!" Hank gasped. "They’re calling themselves the ’Robin Hood Charity Group’ and conning rich people who want to donate! They’ve already tricked several people!"

Werner’s eyes narrowed.

’The system’s third warning has come true—a 68% probability that someone would run a scam under the guise of charity.’

"Have you found out who’s behind it?"

"Some say it’s Krupp’s old crew, trying to use our name to make a quick buck," Hank said anxiously. "Boss, should we..."

"Let them," Werner said suddenly.

"Huh?" Hank was stunned.

"Let them," Werner repeated, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "But—have our men watch them. Keep a list of everyone who falls for it, and record exactly how much money they lose. I also want you to find out everything about those scammers—their hideouts, their numbers, their patterns of activity."

"Boss, what are you...?"

"Didn’t Major von Braun tell me to keep an eye on Black Market activity for him and report anything unusual?" Werner walked to the desk, picked up a pen, and began writing on a piece of paper. "These scammers are the perfect ’gift’."

He looked up, a cold glint in his eyes. "When the time is right, I’ll hand this intelligence over to Von Brown and let him round them all up. He’ll get the credit, I’ll have completed my task, and the people who were scammed can get their money back..."

"And then..." Realization dawned on Hank’s face, and he gave a thumbs-up. "And then, Boss, you’ll show up and return the money to those people. What will they think of you then?"

"They’ll think I’m the real ’Robin Hood’," Werner smiled. "And the fate of those scammers will show everyone on the Black Market what happens when you impersonate me."

"Brilliant! Boss, you really think of everything!" Hank rubbed his hands together excitedly. "I’ll go arrange for a tail right now!"

"Remember, don’t tip our hand," Werner cautioned. "Let them keep scamming for a while longer. We’ll close the net when the list is long enough. Also..."

He thought for a moment. "Send someone sharp to infiltrate their group and figure out what’s going on inside. That way, the intelligence we give Von Brown will be detailed enough to carry some weight."

"Understood!"

After Hank left, Werner walked over to the old-fashioned radio and turned it on.

A crackle of static came from the radio, followed by the voice of the RIAS Radio Station:

"...West Berlin held a demonstration against the Berlin Wall today, with over five thousand people participating... The East German Government has once again rejected proposals to open the border..."

Werner listened, a mocking smile on his face.

’Protests? Opening the border?’

’Those people in West Berlin just don’t get it. For some, the existence of this wall is a disaster. But for others...’

’It’s an opportunity.’

’A massive, endless, inexhaustible opportunity.’

’As long as the wall stands, the price difference between East and West Berlin will exist.’

’As long as there’s a price difference, the quotas have value.’

’And as long as the quotas have value, my business will never stop.’

He glanced down at his watch.

4:30 PM.

’Still time to pay Klein a visit and finalize the quota issue.’

Werner picked up his coat, and just as he was about to leave, the door was pushed open again.

This time it was Franz, holding a document.

"Boss, a message just came in." Franz placed the document on the desk. "We heard back from Saint John’s Church. They said they’re willing to cooperate and will send someone over next Wednesday to discuss the details. Also, Savior Church in Potsdam has expressed interest. They want to send someone to observe our operation first."

"Excellent." Werner opened the document and scanned it. "Arrange the meeting for next Wednesday here at the warehouse, and make sure Pastor Weber is present. Remember, they must see real charitable activities, real poor people receiving aid."

"Understood. Also..." Franz lowered his voice. "Eva sent word. A new shipment arrived at the foreign trade store this afternoon—high-end cosmetics and perfumes from West Germany. She says this stuff will be hot on the Black Market and asked if you wanted..."

"Yes," Werner said immediately. "Tell her to save me a list. I’ll go check the goods myself tomorrow. Cosmetics and perfumes..."

He thought for a moment. "These things are perfect for the wives of high-ranking officials. Franz, prepare a client list. Compile the preferences and purchase histories of all those officials’ wives. I’m going to target this shipment for specific sales, and we can set the price high."

"Right." Franz nodded. "Oh, and Boss, when do you plan to start selling the clothes the tailors have mended?"

"Don’t be hasty," Werner said. "First, donate the initial batch to the Church. Let Pastor Weber and the other priests see the results. Once they’re satisfied and approve of our quality, the rest of the business will be easy."

"Besides..." His eyes shifted. "We need to sell the clothes in batches. We can’t dump them all onto the Black Market at once. Too large a quantity will arouse suspicion and drive the price down. Release one batch a week, sell them slowly, and we’ll get a good price."

"Boss, you really think of everything."

"It’s called playing the long game," Werner said. "You have to be patient in business, not greedy for quick profits. Look what happens to those who try to get rich overnight. They either get caught by the Stasi or swallowed up by the Black Market."

"Only by taking steady, solid steps can you build something that lasts."

Franz nodded. "I’ll remember that, Boss."

"Go on, get to it," Werner said with a wave.

"You got it!"

After Franz left, Werner draped his coat over his shoulders, ready to leave.

At the door, he paused and glanced back into the warehouse.

The two seamstresses were still busy at their sewing machines, their needles flying up and down in their hands.

The dim yellow light fell on the pile of scrap fabric. The leftover materials, discarded by the textile mill, were being transformed into wearable clothes in their hands.

These clothes would be given to the poor, giving some people a little more warmth on cold nights.

And he, Werner Betelich, would gain the reputation of a "philanthropist," the trust of the Church, and access to more channels and resources.

Werner walked to the street corner and hailed a taxi.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Kampstra Street," Werner replied, giving Klein’s address.

The car started up, moving through the gray streets toward the other side of the city.

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

The car stopped in front of a residential building.

Werner paid the fare, got out, and looked up at the windows above.

A light was on in Klein’s window, and a figure moved behind the curtains.

He took a deep breath, straightened his coat, and entered the building’s hallway.

He climbed to the third floor and knocked on Klein’s door.

The door opened quickly. Klein stood in the doorway, a practiced smile on his face.

"Werner, you’re here." Klein stepped aside to let him in. "Come in, it’s cold outside."

Werner stepped inside and smelled the aroma of coffee.

Klein’s wife was busy in the kitchen. She saw Werner and gave him a polite nod.

"Sit," Klein said, gesturing to the sofa. "What’s on your mind?"

"I have some business to discuss with you." Werner sat down and got straight to the point. "I need a batch of quotas—fifty kilograms of candy, one thousand packs of cigarettes, two hundred bars of soap. Also, if you can get tea and canned goods, I’ll take some of those as well."

Klein raised his eyebrows. "That’s quite a large quantity. What’s it for?"

"Charity," Werner said. "The textile mill is cooperating with me. I’m helping them with their employee benefits, and in return, they’re providing me with scrap material for charitable donations."

Klein thought for a moment. "I can approve these quotas, but you know the rules."

"Of course." Werner smiled. "The approval fee will be paid as usual. And another thing..."

He lowered his voice. "Klein, didn’t your wife mention she wanted some French perfume last time? I just got a new shipment, and I can set a few bottles aside for you."

Klein’s eyes lit up for a second but quickly returned to a calm expression. "What brand?"

"Chanel No. 5," Werner said. "The real thing, imported from West Germany."

Klein hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. The quotas can be approved by tomorrow afternoon. You can come pick them up then. As for the perfume... bring it to me on the weekend."

"No problem." Werner stood up and extended his hand. "A pleasure doing business with you."

"A pleasure," Klein replied, shaking his hand. He suddenly lowered his voice. "Werner, this charity angle of yours is a good one. If you have similar cooperative ventures in the future, you can come to me."

"I certainly will." Werner smiled. "Section Chief Klein, you are my most trusted partner."

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

By the time he left Klein’s home, the streetlights had come on, one after another, casting a dim yellow glow over the entire street.

The lines of people were still there, though smaller than during the day. They were wrapped in thick coats, necks hunched, their faces numb and weary.

Werner walked past them, and no one paid him any mind.

In this city, he was just an ordinary businessman, wearing an ordinary coat, walking on an ordinary street.

But he knew that beneath this gray city, an invisible web was slowly being woven.

The Church’s network, the Black Market’s channels, the Stasi connections, the official contacts...

’All the threads are in my hands.’

And now, this web was about to expand.

Saint John’s Church, Savior Church, and even more churches...

Every church was a node, and every node could extend into more threads.

When the day came that this web was truly complete, the underworld of East Berlin would never be able to function without him.