I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

"Simple," Werner said, pointing to another location on the map. "A different route, a different buyer. I suggest we look for Lame Martin on Friedrichstrasse."

"Martin?" Fatty Wolf shook his head. "That old fox is as shrewd as they come. He never pays a cent more than he has to."

"Normally, yes, but things are different now." Werner smiled mysteriously. "Something happened at the border yesterday. Someone was caught, and the goods were confiscated. Do you know whose shipment it was?"

The three of them shook their heads.

"It was Martin’s." Werner began his detailed analysis. "What’s more, this afternoon, I saw one of Martin’s men, Skinny, on the street. The guy looked miserable and was dragging his feet. More importantly, his clothes were still spattered with mud from yesterday’s rain."

"And what does that prove?" Fatty Wolf asked.

"It means he was out for a long time last night, probably dealing with the aftermath of the confiscated shipment."

"Even if one of Martin’s men got into trouble, he’s not going to just agree to a higher price," Fatty Wolf said, still skeptical.

"That depends on how we negotiate," Werner said with complete confidence. "Martin is desperate to restock right now. Otherwise, his regular customers will start looking elsewhere. Under these circumstances, as long as we’re firm, he’ll definitely compromise. The key is to make him feel that our shipment is indispensable to him."

Werner paused, looking at the three men’s expressions, then played his final trump card. "Besides, Martin has connections in the government. He isn’t afraid of the Stasi snooping around. Selling to him is relatively safe."

Fatty Wolf considered it for a long time, the suspicion in his eyes gradually turning to admiration.

He had always thought of Werner as just a cowardly, timid errand boy. He never expected the kid to be so observant, with such strong analytical skills.

"Alright, we’ll do it your way," Fatty Wolf finally nodded. "But if anything goes wrong..."

"Nothing will go wrong." Werner stood up and extended his hand. "And I have one condition. I’ll be involved in this operation from start to finish. Let me prove my worth with my actions."

Fatty Wolf looked at Werner’s determined gaze and finally shook his hand. "Deal. If this works, your debt is wiped clean."

An hour later, a beat-up old truck slowly started up in a small alley. Werner sat in the passenger seat, holding a route map he had redrawn himself.

"Turn left here, take these alleys," he said, pointing to the fork in the road ahead. "Remember, keep a steady pace. Not so fast that you attract attention, but not so slow that we waste time."

The grim-faced man drove. Although he still had his doubts, he carefully followed Werner’s instructions.

As they took a wide detour around Alexanderplatz, they saw exactly the scene Werner had predicted: the searchlights of a temporary checkpoint were on, illuminating the entire square as if it were daytime. Heavily armed soldiers were stopping passing vehicles. Several trucks had been pulled over, their cargo being unloaded for inspection.

"My God..." Red Hair gasped from the back seat. "There really is a checkpoint, and they’re being this thorough. If we’d taken the original route..."

Fatty Wolf glanced at Werner, his eyes now filled with a mix of admiration and relief. The kid wasn’t just observant; his judgment was also spot-on.

Half an hour later, they reached the back door of a dilapidated building on Friedrichstrasse. Lame Martin was already waiting there, flanked by two burly men. Even in the dim light, the exhaustion and anxiety on his face were plain to see.

"Fatty Wolf’s shipment?" Martin walked over, leaning on a cane, his voice a bit hoarse. "I hear the quality is good."

"Of course. Genuine Brazil stock." Fatty Wolf opened up the back of the truck, revealing bag after bag of exquisitely packaged coffee beans. "Smell that."

Martin carefully inspected a few bags and nodded in satisfaction. "The quality is indeed good. The price?"

"Sixty Marks per pound," Werner interjected, his tone calm and firm.

"Sixty Marks?" Martin’s brow furrowed, a flash of anger in his eyes. "Are you insane? The market price is forty Marks, and you’re asking for sixty?"

"Not insane," Werner said, looking at him calmly. "Mr. Martin, we all understand the business, so let’s not pretend. We know about your man getting caught."

Martin’s expression changed instantly. He looked at the young man warily. "Who are you? How do you know about this?"

"I’m a friend of Fatty Wolf’s. As for how I know, that’s not important," Werner continued. "What’s important is that you’re desperate to restock. If you can’t produce the goods tomorrow, your regulars will go to other suppliers. The loss then will be far more than this price difference."

Martin fell silent. Indeed, the loss of those steady customers would far outweigh the extra cost of the shipment.

"Besides," Werner added, "this kind of stuff is getting harder and harder to come by. The price is only going to go up. Today’s sixty Marks could be tomorrow’s market price."

Martin thought for a long time, finally nodding in resignation. "Fine. Sixty Marks it is. From now on, you come to me first when you have good merchandise."

"No problem," Werner agreed readily.

Twenty minutes later, the deal was done. Fatty Wolf counted the thick wad of cash, a disbelieving smile on his face. The profit from this single deal was double what they usually made!

"Kid, you’ve really got something!" he said, slapping Werner on the shoulder. "From now on, you’re one of my guys."

Back at the beer hall, Fatty Wolf waved a hand for silence.

"Brothers!" his voice echoed through the hall. "Tonight’s deal was a masterpiece! Thanks to Werner’s intel, we avoided the checkpoint and doubled our earnings!"

The entire hall erupted in an instant. Some people whistled, some clapped, and others shouted, "Well done!"

"From this day on," Fatty Wolf said, clapping Werner on the shoulder, "Werner is our intelligence consultant! From now on, if there’s any news, we run it by him first for his opinion!"

Old Claus put down his mug, walked over, and topped up Werner’s drink. "Kid, I never knew you had it in you."

The workers in the corner also gathered around, their eyes full of admiration. "Brother, how’d you know there’d be a checkpoint tonight?"

"Amazing, Werner. How come we never noticed how sharp you are?"

Werner raised his glass, feeling the gazes of those around him shift from contempt to respect. A sense of satisfaction he had never felt before washed over him. ’This is what it feels like to turn things around.’

"Just got lucky," he said with a humble smile, but in his mind, he was already scheming a much bigger plan.

Just then, the system’s voice sounded in his mind once again:

[Successfully Unlocked Intelligence and Gained Recognition from a Key Figure]

[Experience Points Gained: 100]

[Black Market Intelligence System Upgraded to LV2]

[New Function Unlocked: Price Prediction]

Werner tightened his grip on his glass, a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

’The system has leveled up. This means I can get even more useful information.’

"Werner," Fatty Wolf came over and lowered his voice. "Go find out what other big moves the government is making. I hear the higher-ups are planning something huge."

Werner nodded, but inwardly, he sneered.

’Of course I know what "something huge" is coming—the Berlin Wall is about to be built. When that happens, all of East Germany will become one giant prison. Countless people who want to escape won’t be able to.’

’But for me, this is a heaven-sent opportunity.’

’With the system in hand and my knowledge of history, in an era on the brink of earth-shattering change, why should I be like everyone else, trying to find a way to escape to West Germany?’

’Here in East Germany, I can see countless business opportunities and paths to wealth.’

’While others want to run, I’m going to stay and build my own legend right here.’