I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Werner’s heart tightened, but his face remained impassive. "Why would she tell you all this?"

"Marta is a devout believer," Pastor Weber said with a wry smile. "She knows the Church sometimes procures charitable supplies from you, and she knows I’ve always helped those in need. She’s worried that if this case expands, innocent people will be implicated. She hoped I could remind the people involved to be more careful."

Weber looked directly at Werner. "Werner, do you understand what I mean?"

"Pastor Weber, thank you for the warning," Werner said sincerely. "Can the Church’s charitable medicine program still continue?"

"Of course. It’s a legitimate charitable activity," Weber nodded. "But you need to be careful. It would be best to keep a low profile for a while." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"I understand." After seeing Weber out, Werner was lost in thought for a moment.

’Vonke really is an old fox. Just catching a few small fry wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his appetite.’

With that thought in mind, Werner turned to Hank and said, "Looks like our partnership is going to have to start early."

Hank was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Rather than passively wait for the Stasi to investigate, we should go on the offensive," Werner said, a sharp glint in his eyes. "I’m going to seize the initiative and request a meeting with Vonke myself."

"Are you crazy?" Hank’s eyes widened. "Go looking for the Stasi on purpose?"

"Not looking for them. Offering my cooperation." Werner’s lips curled into a cold smirk. "I’m going to tell Vonke that I have leads on a much larger smuggling network behind the mole."

Keller was baffled too. "Boss, where are we going to get a ’larger network’?"

"We have one, of course." Werner pointed upwards. "Our rivals who are still out there, running around. Since Vonke wants a bigger fish, I’ll give him a bigger fish."

Understanding dawned on Hank. "You’re going to compile dirt on the other Black Market factions into an intelligence file for the Stasi?"

"Exactly. This is called political opportunism," Werner explained. "I’ll provide intelligence in exchange for an official protective umbrella. That way, not only can I clear my name, I can also obtain legitimate investigative authority."

"Investigative authority?"

"The status of an informant." Werner’s voice was cold and calculating. "Once Vonke develops me as an informant, I can use it as a legitimate reason to make contact with all sorts of people and gather business intelligence. The other Black Market factions won’t dare to make a rash move."

Hank was completely won over. "Mr. Betelich, you’re killing three birds with one stone. Neutralize the threat, gain protection, and strike down your competitors."

"Four birds," Werner corrected. "There’s also our chemical business. With an official protective umbrella, that line of business will be much safer."

Keller rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Boss, so when do we make our move?"

"Tomorrow," Werner glanced at his watch. "Tonight, you two will help me compile a detailed intelligence list. Put everyone who’s crossed us in the past on it, along with those smugglers under Krupp."

Hank was a little worried. "What if Vonke doesn’t believe you?"

Werner smiled, a hint of cunning in it. "Don’t worry, I’ll make him believe. The Stasi love informants who come to them willingly. They’re valuable, yet easy to control. For Vonke, this is a golden opportunity for a promotion and a raise."

Night fell. A kerosene lamp was lit in the basement of the abandoned textile factory. Werner, Keller, and Hank sat around a battered wooden table, a thick stack of papers laid out upon it.

"Fisher’s smuggling route is mainly through the loaders at the train station," Werner wrote on a piece of paper. "His source is a Black Market merchant on the Czech Republic border."

"What about the Mueller brothers?" Keller asked.

"They specialize in military supplies, stuff they get from Poland," Hank added. "I heard from Joseph that they have Soviet Army greatcoats and combat boots."

Werner nodded and wrote it down. ’In the eyes of the Stasi, military supplies are even more sensitive than chemicals. This is definitely a good charge to bring against them.’

"There’s also Krupp’s man, the one called William," Keller recalled. "Doesn’t he specialize in buying up cigarettes from the US Army? He gets them from West Berlin."

"Excellent," Werner continued to write. "Acquiring US Army supplies can be framed as ’colluding with enemy forces.’"

The three of them worked late into the night, finally compiling a detailed intelligence list.

It listed detailed information on all of East Berlin’s major Black Market factions—personnel, supply chains, transaction locations, client lists, and even their personal habits and weaknesses were recorded with perfect clarity.

"Boss, if this intelligence gets handed over to the Stasi, the entire East Berlin Black Market is going to be turned upside down," Keller remarked, looking at the list with a sigh.

"That’s exactly the result I want," Werner said, closing the notebook. "The old order must be broken before a new one can be established. And the one to establish that new order will be me."

Hank looked at Werner, his eyes filled with awe. "Mr. Betelich, I finally understand why Joseph lost to you. You’re not just doing business; you’re playing a much larger game."

"In East Germany, only two kinds of people can live well," Werner said, standing up. In the dim light, his shadow stretched long and thin on the wall. "One kind is the vested interest within the system. The other is a valuable person who serves the system. I choose to be the latter."

Keller didn’t quite understand. "Boss, what do you mean, ’serves the system’?"

"It means making yourself an indispensable part of the system," Werner explained. "The Stasi needs intelligence, so I provide intelligence. The government needs stability, so I maintain order. I give them whatever they need, until they can’t get along without me."

Hank was thoughtful. "And then you can reap the greatest benefits from within this system?"

"It’s not just about benefits," Werner’s voice was laced with ambition. "It’s also about power. Real power."

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

「May 28, 1961. Stasi Headquarters, East Berlin.」

Werner sat in an interrogation room on the third floor of the Stasi Headquarters. The surrounding walls were painted with stark white lime, and the incandescent bulb overhead cast a glaring light.

Every inch of this space wordlessly proclaimed the majesty and terror of the state machine.

Inspector Vonke pushed the door open and entered, a thick manila folder in his hand.

The veteran Stasi officer wore a standard gray uniform with a "Service for the People" badge pinned to his chest. His leather shoes tapped out a dull rhythm on the floor as he walked.

"Comrade Betelich." Vonke sat down across from Werner and placed the folder on the table. "You said you have important intelligence to provide?"

Werner nodded, his expression serious and sincere. "Comrade Vonke, through my observations over this period, I’ve discovered that the mole, Joseph, was just the tip of the iceberg. The smuggling network in East Berlin is far more vast than we imagined."

"Oh?" Vonke’s eyes narrowed. "Be specific."