I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

"Pastor Weber," Werner struggled to suppress his excitement, doing his best to keep his voice calm, "this kind of work sounds very meaningful. I was wondering, what other help does the Church need in this area?"

Pastor Weber sized Werner up again, a look of assessment in his eyes.

"Mr. Betelich, this kind of work requires absolute reliability." The pastor’s tone turned serious. "We handle more than just ordinary charity cases; sometimes, they involve very sensitive people and information. Participants must possess three qualities: discretion, reliability, and... an understanding of the unique value of this work."

Werner understood the meaning of that last point—a willingness to take on corresponding risks for enormous benefits.

"I understand completely," Werner said earnestly. "I believe there’s no contradiction in helping those who truly need it while also receiving reasonable compensation. After all, this kind of work can only be sustained in the long run if the participants are properly compensated."

Pastor Weber nodded, seemingly satisfied with this candid answer.

"Very good. If you’re truly interested, we have a free clinic event next Sunday. You can start by participating in some of our regular charity work to get a feel for the situation." The pastor took a slip of paper from a drawer and handed it to Werner. "It’s in the Kreuzberg District. There are many families there who need help."

Werner took the slip of paper, his mind already racing with calculations.

On the surface, he would participate in charity events, build a good image, and earn the pastor’s trust.

But his real goal was to delve into the Church’s information network and figure out the specifics of those "special cases."

More importantly, he needed to start collecting information on people who could potentially become "political prisoners."

These people looked like ordinary families in need right now, but as the political situation changed, some of them could very well become targets with real "trade value."

"I’ll be there on time," Werner said sincerely. "I’ll also bring more medicine and supplies. As for the price, we’ll do it at the 70% you mentioned."

"Excellent." Pastor Weber stood up, a satisfied smile on his face. "Mr. Betelich, I hope our cooperation can help even more people in need."

The two returned to the main hall and quickly finalized the details of the medicine deal. They agreed that he would supply medicine once a month.

As Werner walked out of the church, his steps were much lighter.

Although he had made a concession on the price of the medicine, he had gained far more.

He had found his entry point into that "secret trade" network.

Now, all he had to do was patiently lay the groundwork.

First, he would use the charity events to build credibility and connections. Then, he would gradually dig deeper into the Church’s special operations, gathering more information on politically sensitive individuals. Finally, he would wait for the political situation to shift and prepare to welcome the massive business opportunity that was coming.

Werner had a strong premonition—the value of this opportunity would far exceed all his current businesses.

The historical 3.5 billion West German Mark trade for political prisoners... even if he could get just one ten-thousandth of that, it would be enough to make him a true tycoon.

And now, he had secured the first ticket.

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

At six in the morning, Werner pushed a worn-out handcart across the cobblestone streets of Mond Street in East Berlin.

On the cart were three wooden crates filled with medicine he had gotten from West Berlin. He had deliberately made the crates look old and battered, so they resembled ordinary charity supplies.

Eva had deliberately dressed in a simple, dark blue coat today. With a prayer book in her hand, she looked just like a devout churchgoer.

Werner had also changed into a gray work uniform, with a small cross-shaped pin on his chest.

"Remember, today we’re believers doing volunteer work for the church," Werner whispered to Eva beside him. "Pastor Weber knows who we really are, but if we run into a patrol, we’re just ordinary church volunteers."

Eva nodded. She understood the importance of this disguise. In East Germany, while religious activities weren’t completely forbidden, it was much safer to publicly display religious piety than to be caught dealing on the Black Market.

They arrived at the back door of Saint Martin’s Church.

The old Gothic church had been severely damaged during World War II; bullet holes were still visible on the bell tower.

The church’s restoration was progressing slowly—not because of a lack of money, but due to material rationing.

Werner knocked lightly on the back door three times, paused, then knocked twice more. This was the secret knock he had arranged with Weber last time.

The door opened, and Pastor Weber poked his head out. He had a gaunt face, thick glasses, and neatly combed graying hair.

"Mr. Werner, Lady Eve," Weber greeted them in a low voice. "Come in, quickly."

They pushed the cart into one of the church’s basements.

It was originally a storage room but had now been converted into a makeshift medical station.

A few simple beds were lined against the walls, and some medicine boxes were piled in a corner.

"What did you bring this time?" Weber asked as he helped put the crates away.

"Aspirin, penicillin, sulfa pills, and some vitamins." Werner opened the first crate, revealing neatly arranged medicines inside.

The packaging all bore West German markings, beautifully printed, a stark contrast to the simple packaging of East German-made drugs.

"The quality of this medicine is indeed better than what we have here." Weber picked up a bottle of aspirin. "An elderly member of our congregation came in last week. His arthritis was severe. I gave him the painkillers you brought last time, and they worked much better than the ones from the state-run pharmacy." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

"Why is there such a big difference?" Eva asked curiously.

Werner explained, "West Germany’s pharmaceutical manufacturing processes are more advanced, and they have more imported raw materials. We have pharmaceutical plants here too, but the supply of raw materials is unstable, and the quality control is..."

He didn’t finish his sentence, but everyone understood what he meant.

Weber sighed. "Actually, our healthcare system is quite good in principle. Regardless of your status, you can see a doctor for free when you’re sick, and hospitalization doesn’t cost anything either. In that respect, it’s better than many Western countries."

"That’s true," Eva nodded. "When I had Hans, from the prenatal checkups to the delivery, I didn’t spend a single Mark."

"But the problem," Weber continued, "is that the price of ’free’ is long lines and shortages. As you know, you have to wait half a day just to see a doctor for a cold, and the wait for a specialist is even longer. Plus, the medicine supply is often out of stock, especially for certain imported specialty drugs, which are impossible to get."

Werner nodded in understanding.

’This situation,’ he thought, ’actually continued long after the reunification of Germany.’

’Even in the Germany of 2025, health insurance still covers everyone and doctor visits are free, but you still have to wait a long time for a specialist appointment. For some in-demand specialists, it’s possible to wait a year.’

’But after reunification, at least the medicine supply in Germany was plentiful, and private health insurance was an option to shorten the wait times.’

’Here in East Germany, however, none of those options existed.’

"That’s why the Church’s charity medical care is so important," Werner said. "It can provide timely help to the faithful."

"Yes." Weber looked at Werner. "With the medicine you provide, we can help many more people in need."

Just then, there was another knock on the basement door.