I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

"It’s simple." Werner flipped to another page in his notebook, one covered in figures. "I’ve done my research. The military supplies you’ve been offloading sell for at least three times their cost on the Black Market. But through those middlemen of yours, you’re only seeing twenty percent of the profit at best."

Ivanov frowned. "What are you trying to say?"

"I’m saying that if you work directly with me and cut out the middlemen, we can both make a much larger profit." Werner’s tone turned businesslike. "I’ll handle the sales channels; you handle the supply. We split the profits fifty-fifty."

"Fifty-fifty?" Ivanov was surprised. "You’re willing to give me that much?"

"Yes." Werner smiled. "You’re a partner with resources. I respect capable collaborators."

Ivanov was lost in thought.

He knew, of course, what the information Werner possessed meant—if this evidence got out, he wouldn’t just be court-martialed; he could even face a firing squad.

And the partnership Werner proposed was indeed much better than his current situation.

Through those middlemen, he really did only get a small cut of the profit, and he also had to bear the risk of being sold out by them.

"That evidence..." he asked tentatively.

"What evidence?" Werner feigned confusion. "I’m just a businessman. I gather market information to do better business. If we become partners, that information will be meaningless to me."

This answer put Ivanov a little more at ease, but he still had his concerns. "If we work together, how can you guarantee you won’t sell me out?"

"Same question for you: how can you guarantee you won’t sell me out?" Werner retorted. "Comrade Major, the foundation of a business partnership is mutual dependence. I need your supply, and you need my channels. We both hold each other’s secrets. That’s the best guarantee there is."

Ivanov began to seriously consider the proposal.

From a purely business perspective, it was indeed a rather reasonable plan.

Moreover, the professionalism and methods Werner displayed forced him to re-evaluate this young German.

"How would this work, exactly?" he asked.

"First, you’ll need to provide an inventory list. Tell me what kind of supplies you can provide, and in what quantities," Werner said. "Then, based on market demand, I’ll formulate a sales plan. After each transaction, we’ll split the profits fifty-fifty."

"How do we ensure the security of the transactions?"

"That will require us to establish a secure operational procedure." Werner already had a concrete plan. "You’ll be responsible for transporting the goods to a designated location. I’ll be responsible for receiving and selling them. We’ll communicate using codes and never meet in public."

Ivanov nodded. This plan did sound much more secure than his current operation.

"So, where do we start for our first deal?" he asked.

Werner pulled a wad of Marks from his pocket and placed it on the table. "I hear you have a batch of military-issue canned goods you need to offload?"

Ivanov looked at the bills on the table, and the hostility in his eyes completely vanished.

"There is indeed a batch of canned goods. About 50 crates. They’re all canned luncheon meat from US Army aid, very high quality," he said. "At normal prices, this shipment is worth two thousand Marks."

"Sixty percent of the market price, twelve hundred Marks." Werner stated the price. "That’s a six hundred Mark profit. Three hundred for each of us."

"Deal." Ivanov extended his hand.

Werner was in a good mood as he walked out of the tavern.

Another potential enemy had been turned into a partner—and a partner with special resources at that.

Ivanov walked toward the Soviet Army jeep parked at the street corner. Before getting in, he glanced back at Werner.

"You’re a resourceful one, young man," he said, his tone a mixture of admiration and apprehension. "I hope our partnership will be a long one."

The jeep started up, leaving a set of tire tracks on the muddy street.

Werner watched the vehicle drive away, then took out his small notebook and wrote under today’s date: "Major Ivanov, converted from threat to partner. Threat level: Low. Commercial value: High. Estimated monthly profit increase: 2,000-3,000 Marks."

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

After returning to his residence, Werner put away the medical supplies marked with the 79th Regiment’s insignia.

Even though he had now reached a partnership agreement with Ivanov, this evidence still needed to be kept. In a world this full of variables, no partnership is permanent. It was always wise to keep a few cards up your sleeve.

He sat by the window, looking out at the dimly lit street, already planning his next move.

With Ivanov as a partner, the scale of his business could expand, but at the same time, he faced new risks.

The protection of a Soviet Army officer was certainly valuable, but it also meant he would inevitably be drawn into more complex political games.

In a special place like East Berlin, every choice could lead to unexpected consequences.

However, Werner wasn’t worried.

Having transmigrated here to become a Black Market merchant surviving in the cracks, he was already prepared to dance on a razor’s edge. And today’s success had once again proven his ability and intelligence.

In this divided city, as long as one was smart enough and cautious enough, any crisis could be turned into an opportunity.

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

「April 2, 1961. Near Alexanderplatz, East Berlin.」

Werner Betelich stood at the entrance of the state-run department store, looking at the few drab, gray coats in the window display while mentally calculating the day’s business.

The spring sunlight filtered through the thin clouds, spilling onto the stone-paved road, but it couldn’t dispel the oppressive atmosphere that permeated the city.

"Another day of rationed bread and potato soup," he muttered to himself, turning to leave.

"Mr. Betelich?"

A clear female voice came from behind him.

Werner turned around and saw a young woman in her twenties walking toward him.

She was wearing a dark blue wool coat, the quality clearly several notches above the goods in the state-run store. Her short blonde hair was meticulously styled, and she wore a professional smile.

Werner was instantly on alert.

’In East Germany, a woman who can afford clothes like that is either the family of a Party official, or...’

"Have we met?" Werner asked, his hand subconsciously slipping into his pocket.

"We have, though we weren’t formally introduced." The woman stopped two meters in front of him. "I’m Anna Claus. I was with Inspector Vonke when he visited your home last time."

Werner’s heart beat a little faster. He remembered now. This woman was the young agent who had been trailing behind Inspector Vonke when the Stasi came to search his home. ’No wonder she looked a little familiar...’

Though the search had been a close call, it had ended without incident. But the Stasi... ’Why are they looking for me again?’

"Oh, it’s you." Werner forced a casual smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Anna glanced around and lowered her voice. "Can we find somewhere to talk? There are too many people here."

Werner hesitated for a moment.

’A meeting initiated by a Stasi agent is never a good thing,’ he thought. ’But refusing might be even more dangerous.’

"There’s a cafe nearby," he said.