I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 97: Chapter 7: The Man Who Defected to East Germany

Wolfgang sat down with a bitter smile.

"I was originally a West German, a middle school teacher from Munich. Back in 1959, I believed the propaganda, thought East Germany was building a true socialist state, so I applied to come over."

He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"It was actually pretty good when I first arrived. The school gave me an apartment, and my colleagues were welcoming. But slowly, I realized something was wrong. The textbooks were full of ideology, students were expected to report on each other, and a teacher had to write a self-criticism for misspeaking a single word." His voice was low. "The day the Wall went up, I knew I had made a mistake."

"Did you apply to go back to West Germany?" Werner asked.

"I did. It was denied." Wolfgang put his glasses back on. "Then the Stasi showed up, called me a ’wavering element,’ and demoted me from teacher to librarian. Now I have to go in for ’talks’ every week." He paused. "My phone has static on the line. The really obvious kind."

Silence fell over the room.

Werner looked around at the three of them—the unemployed lecturer, the surveilled painter, the regretful idealist. Their stories were different, but their desired ending was the same: escape.

The news continued on the radio, the announcer’s standard, high-pitched voice reading a report about some factory exceeding its production quota.

"How much can you help us?" Lucas broke the silence, his voice tinged with cautious hope.

Werner didn’t answer right away. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, looking at their tired, desperate faces.

"I need to understand the situation first before I can make a judgment." He stood up. "Joshua will be in touch with you."

He turned and walked toward the door, with Joshua following behind.

Just before leaving, Werner glanced back.

Lucas had lit another cigarette. Alina was staring blankly at a coffee cup on the table. Wolfgang, having put his glasses back on, gazed vacuously at the curtains.

They would continue to wait in this dim room, waiting for an answer that might never come.

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

After they left the building, Joshua pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Werner.

Werner unfolded it and took a look.

It listed a series of items: high-sensitivity transistors, resistors and capacitors of various specifications, thin copper wire, small adjustable potentiometers, and several West German electronics manuals.

"Can you get all this?" Joshua asked.

Werner studied the list for a moment, then folded the paper and put it in his pocket. "I can get it, but it won’t be cheap."

"How much?"

"Triple the market price." Werner lit a cigarette. "This stuff is sensitive. High-risk."

Joshua was silent for a moment. "When can you have it?"

"About a week." Werner exhaled a puff of smoke. "I need to contact my people in West Berlin."

"Alright." Joshua reached for his cigarette pack, only to find it empty. "Let me know when it arrives."

They walked back the way they came. This time, Joshua didn’t keep looking over his shoulder.

The sun was slowly setting, staining the sky a dark red.

After they had walked for a while, Werner suddenly spoke. "Those three."

"Hm?"

"They’re looking for family reunification?" Werner stared ahead. "Lucas’s wife and daughter are in West Berlin, and Wolfgang is a West German to begin with."

"Yes," Joshua said. "Do you have a way?"

"Maybe," Werner said slowly. "But there’s no established channel right now. This kind of thing takes time."

"I understand. Take your time. Just get me the things I asked for first."

Of course, Werner knew what those electronic components were for—transistors, resistors, capacitors, copper wire. Standard materials for anti-surveillance equipment.

But he didn’t let on that he knew.

’That’s business. A smart man knows when to play dumb.’

He was just a black market broker, getting things for his clients. What they did with those things was none of his business.

They parted ways at the street corner. Joshua headed east, Werner west.

Werner walked alone down the darkening street, his mind racing.

’First, I need to get those electronics Joshua wants. That won’t be hard. Through Reynard’s channel, they can be here within a week. Triple the price... this one deal should net me a thousand or so West German Marks.’

’As for the "family reunification" business, that’s a long-term project. To really open up that channel will take time, connections, and the right opportunity.’

’Wolfgang’s case is interesting.’

’A West German who willingly defected to the East, and now he wants to go back. It’s an embarrassment for their propaganda—proof that people can’t be kept in this East German paradise.’

Werner turned into a small alley and entered his secret office through the back door.

The room was dark. He fumbled for the switch on his desk lamp, and an orange glow illuminated the ledger and map on his desk.

Werner looked at his ledger, thinking of the three people he had met today.

’Three more lives.’

’No, that’s not right.’

’It’s three business deals.’

He lit a cigarette, leaned back in his chair, and watched the smoke curl toward the ceiling.

’Nineteen shots.’

’That truck driver, Rudolf Urban, took nineteen bullets.’

Werner closed his eyes and took a deep drag from his cigarette.

He didn’t know what that driver had been thinking the moment he slammed on the gas. Maybe it was desperation, maybe anger, or maybe he just wanted to see his family on the other side of the Wall.

’It doesn’t matter.’

’What matters is that now there are three people who also want to cross the Wall.’

And Werner’s job was to find them a way that wouldn’t get them killed.

Of course, that way wouldn’t be cheap.

’But it’s better than nineteen bullets, isn’t it?’

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

「A few days later.」

Werner stood two hundred meters from the Friedrichstrasse border checkpoint, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

The spot was strategic—close enough to see the checkpoint’s main gate, but not so close as to attract the attention of the Border Guards. He leaned against a wall, pretending to wait for someone, but his eyes were fixed on the checkpoint.

Ever since the Wall went up, the old days of going to West Berlin to buy goods and bringing them back to resell were over.

The Wall wasn’t built to keep West Germans out; it was built to keep East Germans in.

Especially the young people—the workers, technicians, and university students in their twenties and thirties. In the eyes of East Germany, they were a precious labor force, the capital for building the nation. Let them run off to West Germany? Wasn’t that just gifting talent to the class enemy?

So, once the Wall was up, aside from a very small number of people with special passes, there was no way for ordinary East Germans to get to West Berlin.

That was why the black marketeers were in a state of chaos. No one could get out anymore.

But Werner wasn’t worried. He had laid his groundwork long ago.

Matthias was the key to this operation.

Now that Matthias had been promoted to captain at the border checkpoint, he had more power.

He could schedule himself for key shifts, decide which vehicles to inspect thoroughly and which to let pass with a cursory check, and even sign off on manifests to clear them directly.

More importantly, he had contact with the truck drivers coming from West Berlin and could secretly receive the goods Reynard sent during inspections.

This was the pipeline Werner had spent half a year building, piece by piece.

Now, it was finally time to reap the rewards.

5:30 AM. Shift change.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Matthias emerged from the guard booth, stretching his arms.

Werner waited until Matthias was a safe distance away before following him at an unhurried pace.

Matthias turned into a small alley, stopping deep inside it to pull out his cigarette pack.

"Morning," Werner said, walking over.

"Morning, my ass." Matthias lit a cigarette and took a harsh drag. "Stood on my feet for eight hours on the night shift. My legs are numb."

"Tough shift." Werner handed him an envelope. "This is for this month."

Matthias weighed it in his hand before stuffing it into his pocket. "Another job?"

"I need you to pass a message to Reynard." Werner took out a slip of paper. "Tell him to get these things. The sooner the better."

Matthias took the paper and squinted at it for a moment. "Transistors? Resistors and capacitors? What’s all this for?"

"Don’t ask," Werner said. "Client wants it. I just make the money."

Matthias folded the paper. "When do you need it?"

"Within a week. Tell him to name his price." Werner flicked his ash. "As long as the goods get here, money isn’t an issue."

Matthias glanced at him but didn’t press further. "Alright. There’s a supply truck coming from West Berlin this afternoon. I’ll slip the message into the manifest. Reynard will get it."

"What about when the shipment arrives?"

"Same as always." Matthias lowered his voice. "Reynard will pack the items in a hidden compartment in the cargo container. I’ll wave it through during inspection. Then you come to the warehouse behind the checkpoint to pick it up. Remember to come at night, when there are fewer people."

Werner nodded.

"By the way," Matthias said suddenly, "they’re cracking down lately. You should be careful."

"What’s going on?"

"Orders came from above. Said there are West German spies active near the border, and we’re to be on high alert." Matthias looked at Werner. "You don’t have any strange characters among your clients, do you?"