I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

「Three days later. Stasi Headquarters interrogation room.」

Joseph sat on a cold metal chair, his hands firmly secured to the table by heavy handcuffs.

Three days and nights of relentless interrogation had left the once-energetic black market merchant gaunt and exhausted. His eyes were deeply sunken, his face was covered in stubble, and his eyes were bloodshot.

The dim light of the interrogation room cast eerie shadows on his pale face.

Across from him sat Inspector Vonke, wearing thick-framed glasses, his expression grim.

On the table was a thick stack of case files, each one neatly organized with paper clips.

"Joseph Hoffman," Vonke began, slowly opening the top file folder and deliberately letting the papers rustle. "After three days of intensive investigation, we’ve concluded that you are in serious trouble."

He paused, glancing at Joseph’s exhausted face before continuing, "Theft of military-industrial materials, illegal possession of hazardous chemicals, contact with a Western Spy... Any one of these charges is enough to put you in prison for ten years."

Joseph spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse. "I’ve told you a hundred times, that West German packaging wasn’t ours! We were framed!"

Vonke put down the file, took off his glasses to wipe the lenses, then put them back on. His sharp gaze fixed on Joseph. "Yes, about that packaging issue... I did want to ask you about that."

He pulled a lab report from the stack of documents. "Take a look at this."

Joseph squinted at the report. The dense columns of numbers and chemical symbols made his head spin.

"These are the lab results for that batch of ’high-purity sulfuric acid’ we confiscated from you," Vonke said, tapping his finger on the paper. "The packaging clearly states a concentration of 90%, correct?"

Joseph nodded, not understanding what Vonke was getting at.

"But what about the actual test results?" Vonke’s voice suddenly rose. "Only 15%! Fifteen percent! That’s worse than common household cleaner!"

The color instantly drained from Joseph’s face.

His eyes widened, his mouth agape. "That’s... that’s impossible..."

"Impossible?" Vonke sneered. "It’s a fact."

Joseph’s mind started racing.

’What does a 15% concentration mean? It means it wasn’t military-grade material at all. It wasn’t even suitable for industrial use.’

’Werner... The stuff Werner put in that warehouse was fake! Completely fake!’

"No, that’s not right..." Joseph felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

The full picture of the incident began to take shape in his mind.

’Werner deliberately used fake goods in West German packaging as bait to lure us in, and then... then had us "rob" that warehouse.’

"That bastard Werner... He tricked us... We were framed..."

"Framed by whom?" Vonke asked, looking up. "Werner Betelich?"

Joseph’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if he’d found a lifeline. "Yes! It was him! Werner Betelich! He deliberately used fake goods to lure us in, that damn bastard! He passed off 15% garbage as 90% sulfuric acid, and then..."

"And then you went and robbed his warehouse?" Vonke’s voice turned icy. "That just confirms another of your crimes—robbery."

Joseph realized he’d misspoken again. He quickly waved his hands, the handcuffs CLATTERING. "No, what I mean is... we didn’t know it was a robbery, we thought..."

"You thought what?" Vonke pressed.

Joseph opened his mouth to explain but found that no matter what he said, it came out wrong. The more he tried to explain, the more guilty he sounded.

Vonke watched Joseph’s predicament and slowly closed the file folder. "Did you know, Joseph? Comrade Werner Betelich has already been cooperating with our investigation and has provided a great deal of valuable intelligence. He told us that your group isn’t just involved in the Black Market. More importantly, you have close ties with Western spy organizations."

"What?!" Joseph looked at Vonke in shock. "That’s absolute nonsense! We’ve never..."

A wave of despair washed over him.

Joseph now fully understood Werner’s plan.

’This wasn’t just a simple trap; it was an elaborate conspiracy.’

’Werner didn’t just want to eliminate them as competitors; he wanted to frame them as Western spies. He wanted the Stasi to focus their attention on "collusion with the West" instead of investigating problems within East Germany.’

’That way, his contacts inside the factory would be safe for the time being, because the Stasi would believe it was a case of foreign infiltration, not internal corruption.’

"In contrast," Vonke continued, "you, the real criminals, are just stonewalling and refusing to confess. Do you know what that means?"

Joseph was utterly despondent.

He hung his head, his shoulders beginning to tremble. In this situation, no one would believe anything he said. Werner had already beaten him to it, establishing a cooperative relationship with the Stasi. And he, Joseph, had become the sacrificial lamb.

A long silence fell over the interrogation room, broken only by the tick-tock of the clock on the wall.

After a few minutes, Joseph slowly raised his head. The defiance and anger in his eyes were gone, replaced by deep exhaustion and helplessness.

"Alright," Joseph’s voice was hoarse and weak. "I confess."

Vonke’s eyebrows rose slightly, but his expression remained stern.

Joseph took a deep breath, as if preparing for what he was about to say next. "But I request leniency. I’m willing to give up all my suppliers and clients... I’m willing to name everyone involved, all the contact methods, everything..."

Just then, Joseph suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if something was tearing at his heart. He gasped for air, but it felt like none was getting in.

"I... I..." Joseph tried to speak, but as the words left his lips, his face turned purple and large beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

Vonke, sensing something was wrong, immediately stood up. "Joseph? Joseph!"

Joseph’s body began to convulse violently, his handcuffs CLANGING against the table. His eyes rolled back in his head, and white foam started to froth at his mouth.

"Medic! Get a medic!" Vonke shouted, rushing to the door. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

But it was too late.

Joseph Hoffman, the merchant who had once held so much sway in the East German Black Market, suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot, just moments before he was about to confess everything.

The interrogation room filled with the sound of hurried footsteps and the shouts of medical personnel, but Joseph could no longer hear them.

Vonke stood to the side, watching the medics’ futile rescue efforts with mixed feelings.

This case could have yielded so many more leads, but now, the key witness was dead.

"Time of death," the doctor said, removing his stethoscope and shaking his head, "is 3:24 PM. Joseph Hoffman, deceased due to acute myocardial infarction."

Vonke let out a deep sigh. He knew this meant those "suppliers and clients" would likely never be brought to light.

And the leads Werner Betelich had provided about "collusion with the West" would now, it seemed, become the main focus of the investigation.

’Perhaps this was exactly the outcome Werner wanted.’

The case was, for all intents and purposes, over.

Werner Betelich, as a "proactive citizen" who had assisted in the investigation, would receive official recognition and protection.

It was a win-win-win situation: the Stasi had cracked a major case, Werner had eliminated his competition, and Joseph...

Well, maybe not a win-win-win.