I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 186: Chapter 96: A Merit Cancels a Demerit

That afternoon, Werner met with Von Brown in a secret Stasi office.

Von Brown looked grim. He had obviously heard about Monica being arrested.

He didn’t get up when Werner entered, only saying coldly, "You’ve come at a good time."

"Major." Werner sat down. "I heard about Monica Stein."

"You heard?" Von Brown’s tone was laced with sarcasm. "She was on your surveillance list, yet she was arrested by Vonke’s men. Betelich, care to explain why?"

"Because I found out too late." Werner didn’t evade the question. "Monica is cunning. She was using three false identities and five safe houses. I tracked her for two weeks. I had just figured out her routine and was about to report to you when Vonke made his move."

Von Brown stared at him for a long time. "So you came up with nothing?"

"No." Werner pulled a manila envelope from his briefcase and placed it on the table. "I got this."

Von Brown opened the envelope and pulled out the documents inside.

It was a stack of photocopied interview notes and photographs, recording the testimonies of several political prisoners. They detailed their experiences in Horner Schonehausen Prison—solitary confinement, sleep deprivation, psychological torture... Each account was a headline the West German media would dream of publishing.

"What is this?" Von Brown’s voice grew quiet.

"The material Monica was preparing to send to West Germany," Werner said. "When I contacted her last month, she wanted my help transporting it. I pretended to agree and used the opportunity to make a copy. The plan was to wait for her to give me all the material so we could get it all in one go, but Vonke acted first."

As Von Brown flipped through the files, his expression slowly changed. "Does Vonke know about this?"

"No." Werner shook his head. "He only got what Monica was carrying on her person."

"You’ve done very well." Von Brown closed the file, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Excellent. With this material, I can prove to our superiors that while Vonke may have caught the person, we’re the ones who secured the truly important intelligence."

"Of course, Major."

Von Brown stood, walked over to Werner, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Betelich, you’re more capable than I imagined. I will report this achievement to Director Schmidt as well."

"Thank you, Major."

"However," Von Brown said, sitting back down, "there are two more people on the list. Zimmerman and Weber. Any progress with them?"

"I’ll continue to keep an eye on Zimmerman," Werner said. "Weber’s reading group has stopped meeting recently. He may have gotten wind that something is wrong. I need some time to get close to him again."

"Alright." Von Brown nodded. "Be quick about it."

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

Instead of returning to the warehouse, Werner left the Stasi office and went to Zimmerman’s printing press.

The press was running as usual, with workers bustling about the shop floor amid the RUMBLE of the machines. Werner found Zimmerman inspecting a freshly printed batch of wedding invitations.

"Mr. Betelich." Zimmerman saw Werner and set down his work. "Can I help you?"

"Is the basement all cleaned out?"

"It’s clean." Zimmerman lowered his voice. "The equipment has been dismantled, the materials burned, and even the ink stains on the floor have been scrubbed away. It’s just an ordinary storeroom now."

"Good." Werner nodded. "Someone might come by to inspect in a few days. Just cooperate. Remember, you’re just an ordinary worker at a state-run printing press. You’ve never printed anything illegal."

"I understand." Zimmerman hesitated. "Mr. Betelich, I wanted to ask... Do you know about what happened to Monica?"

"I do."

"Can you save her?"

Werner was silent for a few seconds. "I can’t. They found too much on her. She’s sure to receive a heavy sentence."

The color drained from Zimmerman’s face. "She... She’s a good person. She was risking her life just to let the people in West Germany know what’s happening here."

"I know." Werner turned toward the door. "But in this world, good people don’t always come to a good end."

Outside the printing press, the winter sun hit his face but offered no warmth. Werner lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

’Monica was arrested, and he’d done nothing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to save her, but that he couldn’t.’

’Besides, Monica hadn’t listened to his advice, insisting on finishing those interviews. It was her choice.’

’But he had still used her. Used her material to earn Von Brown’s trust, used her sacrifice to solidify his own position.’

’It left him with an indescribable feeling—not guilt, but a cold, clear-headed awareness.’

’To survive in this city, you had to use every resource available to you, including those who refused to listen to advice.’

He stubbed out his cigarette, got into his car, and started the engine.

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

A few days later, Stasi agents came to inspect the printing press.

They were two of Vonke’s agents. They inspected the workshop, searched the warehouse, and even went down to see the basement.

But they found nothing. It was just as it seemed: an ordinary storeroom piled high with paper and ink barrels, without a single suspicious document to be found.

"Comrade Zimmerman, have you printed anything... unusual recently?" one of the agents asked.

"No." Zimmerman took off his glasses and wiped them. "Just legitimate jobs. Government pamphlets, commercial advertisements, wedding invitations... that sort of thing. You can look at the order logs, it’s all registered."

The agents flipped through the order logs and found no irregularities.

They questioned a few other workers, but the answers were all the same: this was an ordinary printing press that had never printed anything illegal.

"Strange," one agent muttered. "Our intel said there was an underground printing operation here..."

"Maybe the intel was bad," the other said. "Let’s go. Nothing here."

After the two left, Zimmerman leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh of relief. His back was drenched in a cold sweat.

That evening, Zimmerman went to the warehouse to find Werner.

"They were here," Zimmerman said. "They didn’t find anything."

"I know." Werner poured two glasses of liquor and handed one to him. "Vonke’s people wanted to capitalize on their success, but without evidence, they had no choice but to drop it."

Zimmerman took the glass and downed it in one gulp. "Mr. Betelich, I owe you my life."

"Don’t say that." Werner shook his head. "You don’t owe me your life. You owe me future cooperation. Once this blows over, I might need you to print some... special materials."

Zimmerman froze for a second, then he understood. "You mean..."

"Not banned books," Werner cut him off. "Materials for... business purposes. Fake documents, false certifications, that sort of thing. You understand."

Zimmerman was silent for a moment before finally nodding. "Alright. As long as it doesn’t involve betraying our own people, I’ll do it."

"Then it’s a deal." Werner raised his glass.

The two men clinked their glasses and drank.

That night, Werner returned to his secret office. He sat by the window, gazing out into the darkness.

’He had scored another victory with Von Brown.’

’Monica’s material had allowed Von Brown to score a point in his factional struggle, which would make him trust Werner even more.’

’As for Zimmerman, the printing press was safe, and they had established a deeper working relationship. If he needed forged documents in the future, Zimmerman would be a reliable partner.’

As for Monica... Werner lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke.

’He really couldn’t have saved her.’

’But he hadn’t truly tried his best to, either. The cost of saving her was too high, and the reward too small.’

’Everyone had to be responsible for their own choices. Monica chose to ignore his warnings and continue taking risks, so she had to accept the consequences of her capture.’

’Werner was no savior. He was simply a survivor.’

Outside the window, the Berlin Wall stretched on into the night.

On this side of the Wall, some people struggled to survive while others died in silence. And Werner? He just wanted to live a little longer, surviving in the cracks.

He stubbed out his cigarette, closed the window, and headed for the bedroom. ’There’s still so much to do tomorrow. Weber is still on the list, and I have to figure out how to handle Von Brown. Then there’s Vonke. That old fox won’t let this go so easily.’

’But that was all for tomorrow.’

’Tonight, he just wanted to get a good night’s sleep.’

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

The phone rang at midnight.

Werner jolted awake and fumbled for the receiver on the nightstand. "Hello?"

"It’s me." Anna’s voice was hushed. "Peter Weber’s reading group has been reported."

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