I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

The list detailed the names and quantities of various goods, with the amount for each item being more than ten times that of any previous single transaction.

"I’m not crazy. I just see the situation clearly." Werner lit a cigarette, deliberately pausing for a few seconds to let Ivanov digest this information. "Ivanov, how much longer do you think these days of free travel can last?"

Ivanov put down the list, his expression turning serious. "Have you heard something?"

Werner shook his head. "I don’t need to hear rumors. Just use your brain. More and more East Germans are fleeing to West Germany. No normal government would let that continue indefinitely."

Those words hit home for Ivanov.

As a Soviet Army officer, he was more aware of the current political trends than the average person.

In recent months, internal meetings about "strengthening border control" had become increasingly frequent, and the seniority of those attending was getting higher and higher.

Ivanov was silent for a moment before asking, "What are you getting at?"

"I mean, change is coming." Werner blew a smoke ring. "And we need to prepare for it."

Ivanov nodded, understanding Werner’s logic. But then his brow furrowed. "The problem is, with a quantity this large, even if you stockpile it and sell it off slowly on the Black Market over a few months, the risk of being discovered increases exponentially."

"I’ll bear the risk." Werner had already anticipated this question. He pulled out another document. "It’s not all going to the Black Market. I’ve found a completely legal channel for it."

Ivanov took the document and saw it was a procurement request template from the Ministry of Foreign Trade.

"What the hell is this?"

"A legal umbrella," Werner explained. "I have a friend in the Ministry of Foreign Trade who needs to procure these items. It’ll be completely legitimate on the books. No one will be able to find a single fault."

Ivanov studied the document carefully, his expression shifting from suspicion to surprise, and finally to admiration. "You kid... you’re much more capable than I thought."

"So, what do you think of the proposal?" Werner asked.

Ivanov took a sip of vodka, not answering immediately. He was calculating the risks and rewards.

After a long moment, he finally said, "I’m open to cooperating, but we need to renegotiate the terms."

"What terms?"

"First, the price." Ivanov held up a finger. "A partnership of this scale carries a completely different level of risk than before. The price has to go up by 30%."

Werner frowned. "30% is too much. 20% at most."

"No." Ivanov shook his head. "Think about it. If the border really tightens like you say, my channel becomes an exclusive business. By then, forget 30%—people would be willing to pay double."

Werner was silent for a moment, then said, "25%. That’s the most I can accept."

Ivanov didn’t agree right away. Instead, he continued, "And I have other conditions."

"Go on."

"Second, I need proof of a stable sales channel," Ivanov said. "With a quantity this large, if you can’t sell it, or if it floods the Black Market in a short period, we’re both finished."

"No problem," Werner nodded.

"One more condition," Ivanov went on. "I need a higher level of security. If something goes wrong, I can’t be the only one to take the fall."

This was the crucial point. Werner knew that if he didn’t handle this well, Ivanov would likely back out.

He was silent for a few seconds, then said slowly, "Ivanov, have you ever heard of the Stasi’s informant system?"

The color drained slightly from Ivanov’s face. "Are you saying...?"

"I’m saying that if certain commercial activities are beneficial to national security, then the participants aren’t conducting illegal business—they’re carrying out a patriotic mission."

It was an extremely dangerous implication, but also an incredibly tempting assurance.

If Werner really had some connection to the Stasi, then the risk of this business would be significantly reduced.

Ivanov fell into a long, deep thought, weighing the various possibilities and consequences.

Werner didn’t rush him. He just smoked his cigarette quietly, waiting for a decision.

A few minutes later, Ivanov looked up, a glint of resolve in his eyes. "Fine. We’ll do it your way. 25%."

"Wait," Werner said. "Since you’ve added these conditions and guarantees, I have a demand of my own."

"Go on."

"I need regular updates on your supply situation and any policy changes," Werner explained. "If there’s even a hint of trouble with policy, I need to know in advance to prepare."

Ivanov nodded. "That’s reasonable. Actually..." He lowered his voice. "I was just about to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"The higher-ups have been meeting much more frequently lately, and the only topic is border control." Ivanov glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to them. "I can’t tell you the specifics, but... if I were you, I’d start stockpiling as soon as possible."

"Understood." Werner raised his coffee cup. "To our partnership."

"To getting rich!" Ivanov said with a laugh, clinking his glass against the cup.

Watching Ivanov’s retreating back, Werner lit his last cigarette, feeling more pleased than ever before.

Today’s gains had far exceeded his expectations.

Not only had he solidified his partnership with Ivanov, but he’d also secured a source for his plan to stockpile goods before the Berlin Wall was built—after all, once the wall went up, prices were bound to skyrocket. His visit to Ivanov today to arrange a massive purchase was precisely for this purpose.

But the bigger surprise was encountering the "big fish," Joshua.

On the surface, it was just an ordinary business contact. But in reality?

’An escape plan doomed to fail, a group of desperate political prisoners, a West German spy oblivious to his impending doom, and a Transmigrator waiting to reap the rewards.’

「June 27, 1961. 47 days until the construction of the Berlin Wall.」

The café on Alexanderplatz was filled with the bitter smell of cheap coffee and cigarette smoke.

Werner had deliberately chosen a seat by the window, which allowed him to watch the street and would make Joshua feel relatively safe.

Through the glass, Werner watched the bustling crowd in the square.

The clothes of the East Germans were generally gray and dark, while the occasional Western tourists passing by were like splashes of bright color on a gray canvas.

A West German woman in a bright red coat was taking a picture of the fountain in the square, drawing the curious and envious gazes of the surrounding East Germans.

"Sorry, I’m late."

Joshua’s voice came from behind him.

Werner turned his head and saw that the "West German spy" had changed his attire today—a dark blue worker’s jacket and black trousers, making him look more like an East German local.

"Have a seat." Werner pointed to the chair opposite him. "I already ordered you a coffee."

Joshua sat down, his eyes automatically sweeping over several key points in the café—the entrance, the back door, the windows—before finally looking at Werner. "Thanks. I brought the list."

He pulled a folded piece of paper from the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to Werner.

Werner took the paper and slowly unfolded it. The list was very detailed:

"Climbing rope, 50 meters x 30"

"Compasses x 30"

"Flashlights x 30"

"First-aid kits x 30"

"Compressed biscuits x 300 packs"

"Canned food x 200 cans"

"Thermal blankets x 30"

It was clearly a list of escape equipment. The precise quantities indicated that Joshua already had a clear idea of the number of people he was helping—thirty.

More importantly, Werner noticed the details on the list—thirty sets of equipment implied thirty adults; 300 packs of compressed biscuits and 200 cans of food, based on wilderness survival consumption rates, would be enough for a three-to-five-day journey.

This meant Joshua’s planned escape route was estimated to take three to five days to reach West Germany.

And under normal circumstances, a journey from the forests around East Berlin to the West German border would indeed take that long.

But what Joshua didn’t know was that in a few more weeks, the Berlin Wall would be built. The forests around Berlin would also be cleared to create a "death strip."

By then, forget three to five days; they wouldn’t be able to escape even in thirty.

"That’s quite a large quantity." Werner deliberately frowned and slowly looked up. "Are you organizing some kind of large-scale event?"

"An outdoor training program." Joshua’s answer was brief, with no further explanation. "Some young people want to learn wilderness survival skills."

Werner decided to test him. "So where are you planning to hold this training? And when will it start?"

"We’re still scouting locations." Joshua didn’t give a specific answer. "It might be around Berlin, or somewhere else. It depends on the site conditions. In any case, we need the goods before mid-September."

’Mid-September.’

The poor West German spy had no idea what was going to happen on August 13th.

He thought he still had plenty of time to prepare, oblivious to the fact that he had less than two months left.

And what was even more fatal—Werner inferred from the mix of supplies on the list that Joshua likely hadn’t finalized an escape route yet. He had prepared general-purpose equipment, which meant he was still weighing multiple options.

’This is my chance.’

"Mid-September..." Werner repeated thoughtfully, then suddenly looked up at Joshua. "To be honest, Mr. Schlotter, that’s still a very tight schedule."

Joshua’s gaze tightened slightly. "What do you mean?"