I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

The moment Werner stepped out of the checkpoint, it was as if he had entered another world.

The first thing that hit him was the sound—not the oppressive silence of East Berlin, but a vibrant clamor. The roar of car engines, the shouts of street vendors, the hearty laughter of people—even the air itself seemed to vibrate.

Then there were the colors.

The neon signs on Kudamm Street glittered even in broad daylight—red, blue, yellow, and green. Shop windows were filled with all sorts of goods, the glass polished to a brilliant shine, reflecting the light of the street.

A gleaming Mercedes-Benz sedan drove past him, followed by a Volkswagen Beetle.

In East Berlin, he wouldn’t see this many private cars in a week. Here, it was like a car show, with an endless stream of vehicles of all models.

Werner began to walk slowly along the street, stopping every few steps to take it all in.

The aroma wafting from the entrance of a coffee shop hit him. It wasn’t the smell of the fake coffee mixed with barley flour from East Berlin, but the pure fragrance of real coffee. Through the glass window, he saw people sitting leisurely inside, with delicate coffee cups and cream cakes on their tables.

Next door was a fashion boutique with new, brightly colored styles in the window. The price tag on a red dress read "39 West German Marks"—enough to buy bread for half a month in East Berlin.

Further ahead was an electronics store, its window displaying various radios, record players, and even televisions.

Werner leaned closer to the glass for a better look. Some program was playing on the black-and-white screen, and a few children were pressed against the window, watching with fascination.

"What are you gawking at?" Fatty Wolf urged. "Business first."

They walked into a large department store.

Werner was stunned by the goods on the shelves—an entire wall was lined with various brands of cigarettes, coffee beans in beautiful packages gave off an enticing aroma, and the variety of chocolates was dizzying.

"Marlboros, twenty packs," Fatty Wolf said to the clerk. "And twenty bags of Colombia coffee beans, the best you have." 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

The clerk was a blonde girl in a stylish floral dress. She smiled sweetly. "That’ll be 286 West German Marks."

Fatty Wolf pulled out a wad of cash, and Werner watched, speechless. 286 West German Marks was enough for a family in East Berlin to live on for two months.

"Anything else?" the clerk asked.

Werner’s mind was racing.

’Cigarettes and coffee are hot commodities in East Berlin, but they’re still just consumer goods with thin profit margins.’

He knew that if he just followed Fatty Wolf’s lead, making these small trades, he would, at best, only ever reach Fatty Wolf’s level. His ambition went far beyond that—he wanted to deal in a higher tier of the Black Market.

’Since I’ve made it all the way to West Berlin, I’m not going to stick to the old ways. Instead of being Fatty Wolf’s shadow, I should use this opportunity to scout around and see if there are any new goods that could sell for a better price in East Berlin.’

’What’s small, valuable, and easy to transport?’

He remembered from his past life the luxury items that the wealthy coveted most—watches, foreign liquor, jewelry... Of those, watches were the most suitable. They weren’t as likely to raise suspicions about their origin as jewelry, nor were they heavy and fragile like liquor.

"Do you have any Swiss watches?" Werner asked.

Fatty Wolf shot him a surprised glance but said nothing.

"Of course," the clerk said, leading them to the watch counter. She took out several exquisite watches. "These are all original imports from Switzerland."

Werner picked one up. It was heavy, its face gleaming. The price tag read "280 West German Marks."

"How much could this sell for in East Berlin?" he asked Fatty Wolf in a low voice.

Fatty Wolf narrowed his eyes. "At least 2,000 Marks. The officials love this kind of foreign novelty."

A sevenfold profit. Werner’s breathing quickened.

"Should we buy one to try it out?" he whispered to Fatty Wolf.

Fatty Wolf nodded in agreement.

Once their shopping was done, the two packed the goods into the hidden compartments of a specially made suitcase. The Marlboros that didn’t fit were taken out of their packs and tucked, one by one, into the soles of their shoes. Fatty Wolf’s movements were practiced; he was clearly a veteran.

"Now we can look around," Fatty Wolf said with a smile. "First time in West Berlin, you’ve got to see the sights."

As they walked down the street, Werner’s mind was racing. With every new item he saw, he mentally calculated its value back in East Berlin. Perfume, silk stockings, radios, cameras... every single one was a high-profit item.

"Thomas!"

A voice called out from ahead.

Werner looked up and saw a man in his thirties walking toward them with a smile.

The man wore a well-tailored gray overcoat and polished leather shoes, an American Marlboro cigarette held between his fingers.

"Reynard!" Fatty Wolf greeted him with a grin, and the two embraced. "What a coincidence!"

"It’s no coincidence. I was waiting for you here," Reynard said with a laugh. His gaze then shifted to Werner. "This must be the Werner you told me about, right?"

Fatty Wolf nodded. "That’s right, Werner Betelich. Werner, this is Reinhard Mueller, an old friend of mine."

"I’ve heard a lot about you," Reynard said, extending his hand. "Fatty Wolf often mentions you. He says you have a real knack for the Black Market, and that you handled the coffee business beautifully."

Werner shook the warm, strong hand. "You’re too kind," he said modestly. "I just happened to get lucky with the timing."

"By the way, Reynard," Fatty Wolf said excitedly, "guess what business opportunity we found today? When we were in the department store, Werner suddenly asked the clerk if they had Swiss watches. I did the math, and the profit margin is really good!"

A flicker of interest showed in Reynard’s eyes. "Oh? You’ve got a good eye."

"First time in West Berlin?" Reynard asked casually, as if it were just small talk.

"Yes. Seeing what the Western world is like," Werner replied.

"What do you think? Big difference from East Berlin, isn’t it?"

"It’s definitely different," Werner agreed with a nod. "There’s so much more to buy."

Reynard looked at Werner thoughtfully. His gaze lingered on Werner’s face for a moment before he casually looked away.

Fatty Wolf chuckled at his side. "Reynard is a veteran over here in West Berlin. We’ve been working together for years. You can ask him if there’s anything you don’t understand."

"Oh, right, Fatty Wolf." Reynard acted as if he had just remembered something. "That batch of French perfume you wanted—my friend said it just came in today. Are you free to go take a look now?"

Fatty Wolf’s eyes lit up. "Where is it?"

"Just two streets over, 4 Goodman Street. But my friend is cautious and will only let one person in at a time." Reynard glanced at Werner. "How about this: you go check out the goods, and I’ll keep our young friend company for a bit. We can meet up at a coffee shop later?"

"Sounds good," Fatty Wolf nodded. "Werner, you have a good look around with Reynard. I’ll be right back."

After Fatty Wolf had walked away, Reynard’s expression grew serious.

"I heard from Fatty Wolf that you started with only 50 Marks, yet you dared to bet it all on coffee beans. That takes some serious guts," Reynard said, lighting a cigarette. "What’s even more impressive is that your gamble actually paid off."

"Just luck," Werner said, remaining modest.

"Luck?" Reynard laughed. "I’ve been in this line of work for five years, and I’ve seen all kinds of people. Some have guts but no brains, others have brains but no guts. People like you, who have both, are rare."

He paused, then continued, "More importantly, Fatty Wolf told me that you didn’t keep all that coffee to sell yourself. You proactively shared a portion with him in exchange for his protection and connections. What does that tell me?"

Werner didn’t answer, waiting for him to go on.

"It tells me you understand the value of cooperation and know which is more important: short-term profit or a long-term relationship." Reynard flicked the ash from his cigarette. "And then there’s today. Fatty Wolf said you were the one who suggested buying the watch, instead of just sticking to his shopping list. Your ability to see the huge profit potential for watches in East Berlin—that kind of business sense is very rare."

Werner began to understand Reynard’s intentions.

"So?"

"So, I want to talk business with you," Reynard said, lowering his voice. "Not the kind of business Fatty Wolf does, but... an extra opportunity."