Chapter 185: Chapter 95: Journalist Arrested
"My job is to keep myself alive." Werner looked him in the eyes. "The Stasi gave me a list. They want intelligence. I have to give them something, but I don’t want to send everyone to prison."
"So you came to warn me. And then what?" Zimmerman sneered. "Am I supposed to thank you and then obediently turn myself in?"
"I’m telling you to stop." Werner’s voice grew serious. "Shut down all sensitive operations. The banned books, the underground newspapers, the exposé pamphlets—all of it. Hide the equipment, or just destroy it. Switch to regular printing. Government brochures, commercial ads, wedding invitations... any legitimate business will do."
"And then? The Stasi will just leave me alone?"
"No." Werner shook his head. "But at least they won’t have anything on you. I’ll report to them regularly and tell them you’re just an ordinary printer, not involved in any illegal activities. As long as your shop is clean, they can’t touch you."
Zimmerman stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, stood up, and began to pace back and forth. After a long while, he stopped.
"Why are you helping me? We’re strangers."
"Because you’ve bought things from me." Werner stood up as well. "Business is built on trust. You’re my client, and I don’t want to see you end up in prison. Besides..." He paused. "Someone has to keep a little hope alive in this city. The things you print might actually let people know the truth. But for that to happen, you have to survive first."
Zimmerman looked at Werner. The wariness in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a complex emotion.
"I need time," he finally said. "At least two days to finish the orders I have and dispose of the equipment."
"One day," Werner said. "By midnight tonight, this place has to be spotless. Nothing sensitive can be left behind. If the Stasi decides to raid this place and they find anything, I won’t be able to save you."
Zimmerman was silent for a few seconds before giving a firm nod. "Alright. But Mr. Betelich, I have to ask you something..."
"Go on."
"If I do as you say, will I be able to print those things again in the future?"
Werner walked to the door, then turned back to look at him. "The Wall won’t be there forever. When it falls, you can print all the truth you want. But for now, just survive."
Zimmerman watched Werner leave, then slowly sank back into his chair. He lit another cigarette, watching the smoke fill the cramped office.
Outside the window, the printing press continued to rumble, but he knew that his days of printing banned books were over, at least for now.
***
After leaving the print shop, Werner went straight to Joshua’s safe house.
It was an old apartment in the Prenzlauer Berg District, ostensibly the home of a retired factory worker.
Werner knocked on the door in the prearranged rhythm: three times, a pause, then two more.
Joshua opened the door and gestured for him to come in.
There was a woman in the room, in her thirties with short blonde hair, wearing a simple gray coat. She was packing a briefcase, stuffing it with documents and photographs.
"This is Monica Stein," Joshua said, making the introduction. "She’s the liaison for the West German magazine *Der Spiegel*. Monica, this is Werner Betelich. He’s the one I told you about."
Monica sized up Werner, her gaze appraising. "Joshua said you can help us smuggle materials out of the country?"
"I can," Werner said, sitting down on the sofa. "But now is not the time."
"What does that mean?"
"The Stasi are on to you." Werner pulled out his cigarette case and offered one to Monica. She shook her head. Werner lit one for himself. "I suggest you leave East Berlin for a while. It would be best to go back to West Germany and wait for things to cool down."
The color drained from Monica’s face, but she quickly composed herself. "My work here isn’t finished. I have three important interviews scheduled this month with people willing to testify and expose the Stasi’s atrocities. If I leave now, what happens to them?"
"If you get caught, they’ll be much worse off," Werner said, flicking ash from his cigarette. "The Stasi will wring the name of every contact out of you, then round them up one by one."
"I’m very careful," Monica said stubbornly. "I have a fake identity, safe houses, and an emergency evacuation route. They won’t catch me."
"They can catch anyone." Werner’s voice grew stern. "Monica, I’m not negotiating with you; I’m warning you. If you stay in East Berlin, it’s only a matter of time before you’re caught."
"Why should I trust you?" Monica stared directly at Werner. "Joshua says you’re a black market trader, but also a Stasi informant. Maybe this is you on a mission, trying to trick me into giving up my list of contacts?"
Werner didn’t get angry. He understood the suspicion; in this city, anyone could be an informant.
"You don’t have to trust me," he said, standing and walking to the door. "But when you get caught, don’t expect anyone to come and save you."
"Wait." Joshua stopped him. "Werner, isn’t there... something you can do?"
"I have," Werner said, turning back to look at Monica. "Getting her out of here is the only way."
Monica bit her lip, a flicker of hesitation on her face. But in the end, she shook her head. "I’m sorry, I can’t leave. My interviewees have been waiting for months. I can’t disappoint them."
Werner took a long drag from his cigarette, said nothing more, and walked out the door.
Joshua caught up with him at the bottom of the stairs.
"Werner, she didn’t mean to doubt you," Joshua explained. "She’s just... too headstrong."
"Then let her get on with it," Werner said, stubbing out his cigarette. "But don’t expect me to rescue her."
"You really can’t save her?"
"Joshua, I’m not God," Werner said, looking at him. "I do my best to save who I can. Some people refuse to listen to advice. That’s their choice."
Joshua fell silent, finally letting out a sigh. "I understand."
***
「Four days later.」
Monica was arrested.
That evening, she was in a café in the Friedrichshain District meeting an interviewee. She had only been sitting for ten minutes when Stasi agents stormed in.
Monica tried to escape through the back door, but it was already covered. She didn’t even make it to the street before she was wrestled to the ground.
Werner heard the news from Anna the next day.
"Monica Stein, thirty-two years old, illegal liaison in East Berlin for the West German magazine *Der Spiegel*," Anna said over the phone. "Arrested last night. She’s being held at Horner Schonehausen now. It was Vonke’s people who made the arrest. They say they found a large quantity of sensitive materials on her."
"What kind of materials?"
"Interview notes, a list of witnesses, and several rolls of film," Anna paused. "All of it on Stasi interrogation techniques and the treatment of political prisoners. If that stuff had made it to West Germany, it would have caused huge problems."
Werner hung up the phone and sat at his desk, lost in thought for a long time.
’Monica’s been arrested, and by Vonke’s men. This is both bad news and an opportunity. If I do nothing, Von Brown will get suspicious and wonder why I didn’t discover her whereabouts sooner. But if I proactively offer some intelligence, I could clear myself of suspicion and further earn Von Brown’s trust. More importantly, Vonke scored a major victory, which will definitely piss off Von Brown. If I can help Von Brown save face, it would put me in a much better position down the line.’
Werner opened his desk drawer and took out a manila envelope.
It contained materials he had swiped from Monica. The last time he left Joshua’s apartment, Joshua had given him some documents to be smuggled to West Germany. Werner had taken the opportunity to copy some of them, just in case.
’Now, these materials had a use.’
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