I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Keller carefully opened the wooden box. Inside lay a bottle of 1953 Soviet vodka and a handwritten card.

Werner picked up the card. Written on it in neat German script was:

"My young friend, congratulations on your success. The time has come for us to meet. Tonight at eight, the back door of Saint Nicholas’ Church in Prenzlauer Berg. —H.K."

Keller, watching from the side as Werner finished reading, broke into an excited grin. "Boss, Krupp is going to back you! He must have seen your strength and wants to work with you!"

Werner spun the card between his fingers, not responding right away.

After a few seconds, he asked lightly, "Do you think an old fox who’s been operating in East Berlin for twenty years would suddenly become so friendly?"

Keller’s excitement deflated slightly. "Uh... he wouldn’t?"

"If he truly wanted to work together, he would have shown up the day after Joseph died." Werner stood up and began straightening his collar. "To come and ’congratulate’ me now... the timing is rather subtle."

"You mean..."

"A church, the back door, eight at night." Werner repeated the details from the card, his tone calm. "It sounds like inviting an old friend for tea, but it also sounds like..."

He trailed off and simply shrugged.

Keller frowned, thinking. "So, are you still going?"

"Of course." Werner tucked the card into his pocket. "I’m also quite curious about what this old gentleman wants to discuss with me."

Keller looked at Werner’s expression, a flicker of understanding in his eyes, but he said no more.

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

That evening at eight o’clock, Saint Nicholas’ Church in the Prenzlauer Berg District.

It was one of East Berlin’s oldest churches, its Gothic spire looking exceptionally solemn against the night sky.

Werner arrived at the back door precisely on time to find a young man already waiting.

"Mr. Betelich? I am Mr. Krupp’s assistant. Please follow me."

The young man led Werner through a side corridor of the church to a small prayer room.

Werner felt the weight of the military-issue folding knife in his inner coat pocket—a gift from Andrew, the old veteran. In East Germany, even veterans could only get their hands on such minor equipment; real weapons had long been under the strict control of the Stasi, impossible to find even on the Black Market.

A folding knife had limited use in a situation like this, but it was better than showing up to the meeting empty-handed.

Krupp was already waiting, seated on a front-row pew with his hands folded over his knees, looking like a pious worshipper. At the sound of footsteps, he turned, a kindly smile on his face.

"Mr. Betelich, welcome." Krupp rose to his feet. "Please, sit."

Werner sat down beside him, discreetly sizing up the legendary figure.

Krupp looked to be in his early sixties, his silver hair was impeccably combed, and he wore a finely tailored dark suit.

The years had etched deep lines into his face, but his eyes were profound and sharp, like an old wolf that still carried an air of danger even when trying to be friendly.

"Mr. Krupp, thank you for the gift," Werner said politely.

"It was only right." Krupp smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. "The matter with Joseph was handled beautifully. Clean, decisive, no loose ends. I’ve been in this line of work for twenty years and have seldom seen such a brilliant stroke."

"You flatter me," Werner said, maintaining a humble facade. "It was just a stroke of luck."

"Luck?" Krupp shook his head. "Getting the Stasi to act on your behalf, bringing the wily old dogs of the Black Market to heel—that’s not luck. That’s talent."

The two men held each other’s gaze for a moment before Krupp’s tone suddenly shifted. "But, my young friend, don’t you think you’re moving a bit too fast?"

Alarm bells rang in Werner’s mind, but his face remained impassive. "What do you mean by that?"

"Three months ago, you were an insignificant peddler. Now you’re able to mobilize Stasi resources." Krupp’s voice grew deeper. "To someone my age, that kind of speed... is a little unnatural."

"Circumstances create heroes," Werner replied calmly. "Joseph’s fall left a power vacuum. Someone had to fill it."

"Yes, someone had to fill it," Krupp agreed with a nod. "But the problem is, you filled it a little too thoroughly. Fritz’s gang, the Rat’s cigarette racket, the twins’ military surplus channels... each of these had its own balance. Now, you’ve swept it all up for yourself."

Werner was beginning to understand Krupp’s angle.

’In the old fox’s eyes, my rise has been too fast, and I’ve upset the established ecosystem of the Black Market.’

"What are you trying to say?" Werner asked directly.

Krupp was silent for a moment. The candles in the prayer room flickered, casting dancing shadows across his face.

"What I’m trying to say, young man, is that he who walks too fast is bound to stumble."

Coming from the mouth of this gentleman, the German proverb was delivered in a mild tone, yet it carried an undeniable undercurrent of threat. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

A faint smile played on Werner’s lips. "Are you sharing some life wisdom with me, Mr. Krupp?"

"Wisdom?" Krupp slowly rose and began to pace around the prayer room. "Perhaps. I just think there are too many young men in this city who don’t understand... the virtue of restraint."

His gaze swept over Werner.

"Joseph was a prime example," Werner said, his tone even.

"Joseph?" Krupp stopped pacing. "A regrettable case. He had talent, but he lacked patience. And as you know, patience is one of the most important qualities in this line of work."

Werner nodded, appearing to be deep in thought. "Indeed."

’This old fox is testing my limits,’ he thought. ’I need to make him believe I can be persuaded—at least for now.’

’Now is not the time for an open conflict. I know nothing about Krupp’s sphere of influence; his network, his resources, his fatal weaknesses are all a mystery to me.’

’To declare war now would only put me on the defensive.’

’The smart play is to first let Krupp lower his guard, to let him think this young man can be brought to heel. Once I’ve learned his secrets, then I can deliver the fatal blow to this old wolf.’

"Then, for a patient young man, what advice would you offer?" Werner asked, his tone laced with just the right amount of humility.

Krupp sat back down, leaning forward slightly. "Advice? It’s simple. Face reality. The East Berlin Black Market is already a mature system; everyone has their place. Your chemical business, your Stasi connections—you can keep all that. But do not expand any further. The East Berlin Black Market is a big place, large enough for all of us to eat our fill."

His voice dropped even lower. "Impatient people have a tendency to upset this balance. And the consequences for upsetting the balance... are usually rather unpleasant."