I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

One of the heavyset men pried at the lock with a crowbar. SNAP! It broke open.

The warehouse door was pushed open, and the four men filed in. Soon, excited shouts came from inside:

"Found it! It’s in the corner!"

"The labels are even in English. It’s definitely goods from West Germany!"

Werner suppressed a smile.

He had taken the acidic auxiliaries (sulfuric acid and nitric acid), industrial cleaning agents, and bleaching agents (hydrogen peroxide) he’d acquired from a printing and dyeing factory and repackaged them as so-called "imported high-purity reagents."

This "waste material" from the factory was all diluted. The concentration wasn’t very high, but it was impossible to tell with the naked eye.

The Mole wouldn’t discover the problem unless he went back and immediately tested it with professional equipment.

But it was obvious the Mole was a Black Market dealer who knew nothing about chemistry. He didn’t have the knowledge to test the reagent concentrations with precision instruments. At most, he might use some crude, homespun methods to verify their authenticity, but he wouldn’t discover the incorrect concentrations anytime soon.

After the four men had loaded all the barrels of chemical reagents onto the truck, the Mole did one last sweep of the warehouse. Confirming nothing was left behind, he satisfiedly signaled for his men to pull out.

"Let’s go, back to the hideout. We’re gonna make that kid pay tomorrow!"

Accompanied by the low rumble of the diesel engine, the fully loaded truck took advantage of the darkness and quickly disappeared into the city’s shadows.

Werner lowered his binoculars, a triumphant grin touching the corners of his mouth. ’The first step is a success.’

The truck started up again, and its headlights gradually receded into the night.

Werner waited for ten minutes. Only after confirming there was no movement in the area did he step out from the shadows.

He didn’t follow the truck; there was no way his two legs could catch up to it anyway.

He had already made arrangements with Keller before the operation.

Keller had rented a room in an apartment building near the abandoned textile factory. He spent his days there, looking like an ordinary unemployed man. His mission was to keep watch and record all of the Mole’s activities.

The next morning, Werner met Keller in an inconspicuous coffee shop. Keller handed him a hot coffee, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Boss," Keller said in a low voice, "you were right. The Mole and his crew really showed up last night. They moved several barrels from their vehicle into the basement of that abandoned factory."

"Good work, Keller." Werner nodded. ’This is only the beginning,’ he thought.

「A few hours later.」

Werner sat in the coffee shop, holding a cup of steaming substitute coffee. The taste was bitter, but it was better than nothing.

The coffee shop wasn’t crowded; a few workers in gray overalls were hastily eating their lunch. "People’s News" was playing on the radio, the announcer declaring the previous day’s industrial production figures in standard German:

"...According to the State Statistics Bureau, our heroic working class has once again exceeded production quotas..."

Werner listened absently, his full attention focused on the letter paper in front of him.

It was an anonymous tip letter addressed to the Stasi Headquarters in Berlin, not to Inspector Vonke, whom he knew. The purpose was simple—to avoid exposing his relationship with Vonke.

He had already composed the contents of the letter in his mind the night before:

"To the Comrades of the Stasi:

I am a loyal citizen of East Germany, and it is my duty to report a major case I have discovered to the organization.

A smuggling ring has been discovered at the abandoned textile factory (address: 15 12th Street, Industrial Zone). This ring is colluding with a Western Spy and storing a large quantity of raw materials for military-grade chemical weapons.

From my observations, the ring is cooperating with personnel inside military factories to perpetually steal classified state materials and sell them to foreign powers.

There are contact items and markings left behind at the scene by the Western Spy. The situation is extremely serious. Please have the organization investigate and handle this immediately.

An anonymous patriot."

Werner checked it over and over, confirming there were no traces that could possibly expose his identity, before carefully placing the letter in an envelope.

Leaving the coffee shop, he walked to the nearest post office.

The post offices in East Berlin always had long lines, and today was no exception. The queue was mostly made up of housewives and retirees, with the occasional student-like youth.

In front of Werner stood a woman in her fifties, clutching a shoddily wrapped package. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"How much to send this to Hamburg?" the woman asked the postal clerk.

"Hamburg?" The clerk, wearing reading glasses, inspected it closely. "Hamburg in West Germany, or..."

"Of course, Hamburg in West Germany. My son works there." The woman’s voice trembled slightly.

Werner knew this kind of situation. Ever since Germany was divided in 1949, countless East German families had been torn apart.

Some had fled to West Germany, and the relatives they left behind could only stay in touch through letters. Every letter sent to the West was rigorously inspected, and every package was at risk of being confiscated.

"Fifteen Marks," the clerk said matter-of-factly. "You also need to fill out a detailed content list."

The woman’s face instantly went pale. Fifteen Marks was enough to cover a week’s worth of food for an average worker’s family. Still, she tremblingly took the crumpled bills from her wallet.

When it was Werner’s turn, he placed the tip letter on the counter. "Please send this to Stasi Headquarters."

The clerk glanced at the address on the envelope, and his attitude immediately became more respectful. "Right away, Comrade. Domestic mail, 50 pfennigs."

Werner paid the fee and watched the clerk stamp the envelope.

「2 PM the next day, Stasi Headquarters, Berlin.」

Inspector Vonke was in his office handling routine paperwork. His desk was piled high with various tip letters and investigation reports.

As a veteran inspector for the Stasi, he had to process dozens of reports on "counter-revolutionary activities" of all sizes every day. Ninety percent of them were just neighborly disputes or personal grudges.

But today’s letter made him unable to sit still.

’Raw materials for chemical weapons? A Western Spy?’ Vonke put down the "F6" brand cigarette he was smoking and carefully reread the letter’s contents.

This wasn’t an ordinary smuggling case. If the tip was true, it would be a major incident involving national security.

Vonke immediately dialed his superior’s number.

"Director Sachs? This is Vonke. I have an urgent situation to report..."

Ten minutes later, the operational team at Stasi Headquarters began to assemble urgently.

An operation of this scale required at least two hours of preparation—confirming the target’s location, developing an assault plan, and allocating weapons and equipment.

But for Vonke, two hours was far too long.

If word leaked and the suspects escaped, this case could turn into an international scandal.

「4 PM that same afternoon, the abandoned textile factory.」

The Mole, Joseph, squatted in a corner of the abandoned warehouse. The dim, yellow light of a kerosene lamp flickered, illuminating the dozen or so chemical reagent barrels in front of him.

The air was thick with a variety of acrid chemical smells that made one’s throat itch.

"Damn that Werner. Let’s see what kind of goods you got me," he muttered, carefully twisting open the lid of the first barrel.

P.S. Seeing some discussion in the comments, let me clarify: The protagonist of this book will inevitably be drawn into politics, but he won’t get deeply involved. If you know, you know.