I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

The office wasn’t large, but it was tastefully furnished.

A portrait of Ublis hung on the wall, alongside a world map dotted with colored pushpins to mark trading partner nations. The bookshelves were lined with various trade statistical yearbooks and legal documents.

Section Chief Klein rose to his feet. He was a man in his early fifties—bald, with gold-rimmed glasses, a portly build, but full of vigor. His gaze was piercing, like a wily old fox sizing up its prey.

"Section Chief Klein, this is Comrade Werner Betelich, the man I mentioned," Schiller said.

The man in the office rose. He was in his early fifties, bald, with gold-rimmed glasses and a slightly plump but energetic frame. His desk was piled with thick stacks of documents, and a world map studded with colorful pushpins hung on the wall.

"Welcome, Comrade Werner." Klein’s handshake was firm yet measured, but his eyes were clearly appraising him. "Schiller tells me you’re quite experienced in matters of trade?"

"I wouldn’t call it experience. I’ve just been lucky enough to make a few friends," Werner replied humbly.

"Friends?" Klein sat down, his fingers tapping lightly on the desktop. "What kind of friends?"

Werner sensed he was being tested. ’This Section Chief Klein is clearly not someone you can easily fool.’

"They’re from all walks of life. There are technical experts working in the West, people from the Church doing charity work, and also..." Werner deliberately paused, "...friends with access to certain special channels."

"Special channels?"

Werner took an exquisite wooden box from his briefcase. "A small token," he offered. "It’s nothing much."

Klein took the wooden box, and when he opened it, his eyes immediately lit up. Ten Cuban cigars were neatly arranged inside, exuding a faint aroma of tobacco.

"Cuban Havanas?" Klein picked one up, inspecting it closely. "These... can’t be cheap."

"The best things are for those who can appreciate them," Werner said with a smile.

Klein’s demeanor softened noticeably, but he remained cautious. "Comrade Werner, I’ll be frank with you. Schiller recommended you, saying you have special procurement channels. But..." He paused. "We are a state agency here. All of our business must be conducted legally and by the book."

’Here it comes.’ Werner knew the real test was beginning.

"You’re right, Section Chief Klein," Werner said with a nod. "In fact, I’ve been thinking about that very issue—how I can use the advantages of my channels to serve the nation’s development." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"Oh?"

"While I do have some special procurement channels, as a private individual, I’m not really in a position to participate in formal international trade," Werner said, feigning a troubled look. "If possible, I’d hope to find... a suitable platform."

Klein and Schiller exchanged a look. This was exactly what they wanted to hear.

Klein rose and walked over to the map, pointing to the dense cluster of pins. "You see, we trade with over forty countries. But—" He paused. "Our foreign currency reserves are finite, but our needs are infinite."

"That must be a real headache," Werner said sympathetically.

"A headache doesn’t even begin to cover it!" Klein exclaimed, returning to his seat and pulling a thick stack of files from a drawer. "Every month, my desk is buried under applications. Textile mills wanting wool from the United Kingdom, chemical plants wanting dyes from West Germany, hospitals wanting medicine from Switzerland... And every single one of them claims their need is the most important, the most urgent."

"Section Chief Klein carries a heavy burden," Schiller added with a nod from the side.

Klein sighed and sat down. "That’s precisely why we need people like you—someone who knows how to acquire scarce goods but also understands the importance of playing by the rules. So, what do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking... perhaps I could be affiliated with a state-owned enterprise that has a foreign trade license. I could participate in the business as a technical consultant or procurement specialist," Werner said, as if the idea had just come to him. "That way, I could leverage my channels while ensuring all operations remain within a legal framework."

Klein nodded, satisfied. ’This young man doesn’t just have connections; he’s smart, too.’

"That’s... an interesting idea." Klein pretended to mull it over, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "In fact, the Ministry of Foreign Trade oversees several specialized, state-owned trading companies. If you’re truly capable, arranging a consultant position for you wouldn’t be an issue."

Klein rose and walked to the window, watching the workers and officials bustling below. "You know, Comrade Werner, someone with your talents is exactly what our country needs for its development."

"How do you mean?" Werner feigned confusion.

"You come from a working-class family, your record is clean, and your political background is uncomplicated." Klein turned back to face him. "In our system, that’s a tremendous advantage. The Party places its greatest trust in those with a proletarian background."

Werner nodded, beginning to understand what Klein was getting at.

"More importantly," Klein continued, "you’ve worked in a machine factory, so you have a deep understanding of the production floor. Our Ministry of Foreign Trade needs people just like that right now—people who understand production, have special channels, and can connect our actual manufacturing needs with international procurement."

"So you’re saying...?"

"A fast-track promotion!" Klein clapped his hands together. "Promoting someone directly from the production floor to a procurement consultant position is perfectly in line with our policy that ’the working class leads all.’ Who would dare question the capabilities of an outstanding worker?"

’The arrangement was indeed flawless—using political correctness to mask a commercial operation, and using his class background to dispel any questions about his identity.’

"Besides," Klein lowered his voice, "if any... unexpected situations were to arise, it would be very easy to explain. After all, it’s normal for a comrade just promoted from a factory to be inexperienced. It’s perfectly understandable that he might be deceived by Western merchants."

’That last sentence made Werner realize his true position in this game: the perfect scapegoat.’

’If anything went wrong, he would be the "inexperienced worker corrupted by the West."’

’But so what? As long as he could make money, it was worth taking on a few risks.’

"You’ve considered everything, Section Chief Klein," Werner said, nodding in agreement. "May I ask what kind of business these companies primarily conduct?"

"Each one has its own focus." Klein rose and walked to the map. "For example, the People’s Trading Company primarily handles the import and export of consumer goods, the Industrial Equipment Company specializes in machinery, and then there’s the Special Materials Company..." He trailed off intentionally.

"Special materials?"

"Items... for special purposes. Medical devices, chemical agents, precision instruments, and the like." Klein returned to his seat. "Of course, that line of work requires someone especially trustworthy."

’Werner understood. The Special Materials Company was the platform he needed.’

"Well then," Klein said, changing tack, "Comrade Betelich, if you were asked to procure a shipment of watches from Switzerland, how would you go about it?"

’This was the critical question.’

’Werner knew that what he said next would determine the depth of their collaboration.’