I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Empty.

Completely empty.

Only a few hemp ropes and splinters from pried-open wooden crates remained on the floor. A line of words was scrawled on the wall in red paint:

"Get out of the Black Market."

"Shit!" Richter, who had followed him in, was also stunned by the scene. "What the hell happened? The goods were here last night!"

Werner took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"Richter, was anyone on duty here last night?"

"Yeah, Little Hans was on the night shift. But he... he didn’t show up for work this morning." Richter’s expression grew uglier. "Don’t tell me..."

He didn’t need to finish. They both understood.

Werner pulled a ten-Mark bill from his pocket and handed it to Richter. "Don’t say a word about this to anyone. Just act like nothing happened."

Richter took the money, nodded, and hurried away.

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

At two in the afternoon, Werner met Keller in a tavern.

The young man, in his early twenties and still with acne on his face, already had the cunning of a seasoned hustler in his eyes.

He had learned a lot since he started working with Werner last month.

"Boss, I found something out," Keller said in a low voice. "It was Joseph and his crew."

"The Mole?"

"Yeah, that’s him," Keller said resentfully. "They made their move at three in the morning. They threatened Little Hans, told him they’d break his legs if he resisted."

Werner nodded, sneering inwardly. ’I hadn’t even gotten around to dealing with Joseph, and here they are, coming to me.’

’Fine by me. This is the perfect chance to use Joseph to establish my authority in the Black Market.’

"Keller, go find out about Joseph’s business. See what they’re selling and who their customers are." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"Okay, Boss. What about our goods?"

"The goods are gone, and that’s that." Werner stood up and clapped Keller on the shoulder. "But we will have our revenge."

「One week later.」

Werner sat in the corner of a dockside warehouse, a bottle of beer on the table. He lit a Camel cigarette he’d brought back from West Berlin and took a deep drag.

"Boss, I’m back."

Keller pushed open the creaking wooden door, his face a mix of excitement and exhaustion.

A week ago, Werner had sent him to investigate the Mole, focusing on his business operations.

"Sit down, have a beer." Werner pushed a bottle toward him. "Tell me what you found."

Keller chugged half the bottle, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Damn, this past week almost turned me into an alcoholic. To get these guys talking, I had to drink with them in the tavern until midnight every night."

"The Mole’s crew, they’re there every night, drinking and bragging," Keller continued, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I pretended to be a newcomer looking for an in. Luckily, I used to work at a textile mill, so I know a thing or two about the dyeing business. It was easy to strike up a conversation with them."

Werner flicked the ash from his cigarette, saying nothing, just listening intently.

"The Mole’s customers are mainly purchasing agents from dyeing plants, the owners of a few underground print shops, and some people from photo studios who also buy from him. I chatted with a few of the buyers from the dyeing plants and found out Joseph supplies them with all sorts of chemical raw materials."

"What specifically?" Werner asked.

"Nitric acid, sulfuric acid, and... trichloroethylene." Keller counted them off on his fingers. "It’s all stuff he gets from the military factory. Joseph doesn’t really understand any of it. He just knows what makes money and sells it. He says these chemicals are worth a lot on the outside, and the dyeing and printing plants are all clamoring for them."

Werner mulled over the information. His knowledge of chemistry from his past life immediately showed him an opening.

Nitric and sulfuric acid were indeed common raw materials for dyeing plants, but high-purity nitric acid was also a key component in making explosives.

In these paranoid times, anything that could be connected to "subversive activities" was lethal.

"Anything else?" Werner continued to ask.

"Yeah!" Keller slapped his thigh. "Hydrogen peroxide. They said it’s high-concentration stuff, over 70%. And all kinds of catalysts and developing agents. Joseph brags that every underground photo studio in Berlin has to buy developer from him."

Werner slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, his gaze turning profound.

’Seventy-percent concentration hydrogen peroxide? That’s already military-grade.’

Joseph, the amateur, clearly didn’t understand the implications. He only knew that high-concentration sold for a higher price, not that he was playing with fire.

Werner nodded. He had already made a preliminary assessment.

In East Germany at this time, any trade in chemicals that could be related to explosives was extremely dangerous. The Stasi’s crackdown on such incidents was swift and merciless. If caught, the light sentence was ten years in prison; the heavy one was a bullet to the head.

"Where’s their source?"

"A military factory!" Keller’s voice was tinged with excitement. "Joseph has a friend named Hank who works at that military factory to the north. Every week, that guy manages to get a batch of ’scrap’ out of the factory."

Werner’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Where is it stored?"

"An abandoned textile mill, the one by the Spree River." Keller pointed to the southeast. "That place has been derelict for years, surrounded by ruins. Joseph converted the basement there into a warehouse."

Werner stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the factory smokestacks in the distance.

The Berlin sky was a dreary gray, and the factory smokestacks belched black smoke, mirroring the city’s heavy mood.

He quickly analyzed the intelligence he had just received.

’That guy Joseph certainly has guts, but he’s also terrifyingly stupid.’

’He clearly doesn’t realize what a dangerous game he’s playing.’

’Taken individually, each of those chemicals could be explained away as having ’normal industrial uses.’ But combined, it’s a completely different story.’

’High-concentration nitric acid, sulfuric acid, hydrogen peroxide, plus various catalysts... that’s practically a small-scale explosives factory.’

’Any Stasi agent with even a little knowledge of chemistry would see that combination and immediately think ’manufacturing explosives’.’

’What’s worse, Joseph is constantly expanding his operation.’

’According to Keller, the guy is planning to get even more ’special-grade goods’ from the military factory soon.’

"Boss, what are you thinking about?" Keller couldn’t help but ask when he saw Werner remain silent for so long.

Werner turned around, a meaningful smile on his face. "I’m thinking that our friend Joseph is too greedy."

"Greedy?"

"Yes. Insatiably, utterly ignorant greed." Werner sat back down. "He thinks he’s so smart, but he’s actually dancing on a tightrope. In his eyes, those chemicals are just ordinary goods that make money. But to someone who knows what they’re looking at..."

Werner didn’t finish, but Keller seemed to misunderstand him.

"So what do we do?" Keller asked. "Should we get into the chemical business too? It sounds pretty profitable."

"No." Werner shook his head. "We can’t touch that kind of business. At least, not right now."

Keller was confused. "Why not? Isn’t it really profitable?"

Werner lit another cigarette and took a deep drag. "Keller, do you know what kind of criminals the Stasi love to catch the most?"