I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 187: Chapter 97: Peter’s Choice

Werner sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake. "When?"

"This afternoon. An anonymous tip came in, said they were discussing banned books and spreading reactionary ideas," Anna said. "Vonke has already approved the arrest warrant. The operation is for six o’clock tomorrow morning."

"Who reported them?"

"I don’t know. Could have been a member of the reading group, or maybe a neighbor." Anna paused. "Anyway, you need to be careful. Peter is on your surveillance list. If he gets arrested, Von Brown will ask you why you didn’t give a heads-up."

Werner glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand—12:45 AM. The arrest was in a little over five hours.

"I understand. Thanks."

After hanging up, Werner didn’t hesitate. He immediately got out of bed and started getting dressed.

Peter Weber couldn’t be arrested. At least, not now.

Pastor Weber was a key figure in his Church line. If the pastor’s nephew got into trouble, the entire line would be compromised.

More importantly, if the Stasi dug too deep, they would find Anselm Krause at Pastor Weber’s.

This would lead to a whole series of questions: How did Anselm change his identity? Who helped him? Was the Church sheltering dissidents?

Werner couldn’t let those questions be asked.

Time was too tight. Going through the checkpoint would be too slow.

He had been using Hans’s route with some frequency lately. Lucas had just escaped, and now sending Peter would easily arouse suspicion.

Besides, this was an escape right under the Stasi’s nose. If they were stopped and questioned at a checkpoint, the entire smuggling route would be exposed.

He had to use the backup plan.

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

At 1:30 AM, Werner’s car was parked in the alley behind the church.

The church’s bell tower loomed in the darkness, the cross atop it glinting coldly in the moonlight.

Werner killed the engine, got out, and went around to the side of the church, finding the back door to Pastor Weber’s residence.

He knocked with the agreed-upon rhythm—three times, a pause, twice, another pause, then once.

After a moment, the door opened. Pastor Weber stood there in his nightrobe, holding a candle, his face etched with confusion.

"Betelich? So late..."

"Is Peter here?" Werner cut him off.

"Yes. He just went to sleep. What is it?"

"Wake him up," Werner said, his voice urgent. "Now."

Weber saw the gravity of the situation and, without another question, turned and went upstairs.

A few minutes later, Peter came down, still in his pajamas. His eyes were bleary, but he sobered up instantly when he saw Werner’s grave expression.

"What’s happened?"

"Your reading group has been reported," Werner said bluntly. "The Stasi are planning to make arrests at six tomorrow morning. You have to leave immediately."

The color drained from Peter’s face. "Who... Who reported us?"

"I don’t know. Maybe a member of the group, maybe a neighbor." Werner glanced at Pastor Weber. "Pastor, could you give us a moment to speak alone?"

Weber hesitated for a moment, then nodded and went back upstairs.

Once the pastor was gone, Werner pulled Peter down onto a bench. "Listen, we don’t have much time. I’ve already arranged an escape route. You need to go now."

"But..." Peter’s voice trembled. "There are others in the group... Maria, Lucas, and Anton... What will happen to them?"

"The Stasi are coming for you," Werner said, staring into his eyes. "The tip named you specifically. It said you’re the organizer, the one leading the spread of reactionary ideas. The others are just participants. At most, they’ll be held for a few days, ’re-educated,’ and released. But you’re different. You’ll get a heavy sentence."

"Then I can’t leave!" Peter stood up and began pacing the room. "If I run, they’ll say I fled because I’m guilty. They’ll pin everything on me, and the others will be implicated..."

"You’ll only drag them down with you if you stay," Werner cut in. "Peter, listen to me. If you’re arrested, the Stasi will interrogate you. They’ll force you to give up every detail about the reading group—who attended, what was discussed, who made any reactionary statements. You won’t hold up under their torture. No one does. When that happens, everyone in the group will go to prison."

"But if you leave?" Werner continued. "With you gone, the Stasi won’t have their prime suspect, and they won’t be able to build a major case. They’ll bring the others in for questioning, give them a warning, and maybe hold them for a few days before letting them go. Without you, the ’organizer,’ they’re just ’misled masses.’ Not a capital offense."

Peter stopped pacing and looked at Werner. "Are you sure?"

"I’m sure." Werner stood and walked over to him. "It’s the Stasi’s standard playbook. Arrest the ringleader, let the followers go, divide and conquer. If you stay, you’re dragging everyone down. By leaving, you’re actually protecting them."

Peter fell silent, his fingers twisting the hem of his pajama shirt.

After a long while, he finally spoke. "But... doesn’t that make me a deserter?"

"Peter," Werner’s voice softened. "Do you know what the most ironic part of the Sisyphus story is?"

Peter looked blank for a second. "What is it?"

"It’s not that he has to push the boulder," Werner said, pausing. "It’s that he doesn’t know when the punishment will end."

"You mean—"

"I mean, what if Sisyphus knew that after pushing the boulder a hundred more times, he would be free? What would he think then?" Werner looked into Peter’s eyes. "He would push it those hundred times, filled with hope. Because he would know there was an end in sight."

Peter said nothing, just stared at Werner.

"This country is Sisyphus’s boulder right now," Werner continued. "Everyone thinks these days will last forever, that the Wall will always stand, that freedom will never come. They can’t see the end, so they despair."

"But I’m telling you," Werner’s voice grew firm, "they won’t. This Wall, this system—neither will last forever. Maybe twenty years, maybe thirty, but it will fall."

"When that day comes, who will people remember?"

Peter shook his head.

"They’ll remember those who held on to the truth in the darkness. They’ll remember those who refused to be silent." Werner pointed at Peter. "And you—if you stay, you’ll be thrown in prison, you’ll be tortured, and you’ll be forced to confess your guilt on television, to admit the reading group was an anti-Party organization. Then, you’ll no longer be ’one who held on to the truth.’ You’ll just be ’one who yielded.’"

Peter’s face grew even paler.

"But if you leave, go to West Berlin, continue your research, continue your writing, continue to speak out—" Werner’s voice rose. "Then you’ll still be ’one who refused to be silent.’ You can publish your articles in West Germany and tell the world what’s happening here. You can become the voice of the exiles, a beacon of hope for the people on the other side of the Wall."

"That is true courage," Werner said. "Not sitting in a prison cell until you’re tortured into a confession, but continuing the fight from a place of freedom."

As Werner spoke these words, his voice was filled with passion, his gaze so sincere it was impossible to doubt.

’But I know, in my heart, that I don’t entirely believe these words myself.

East Germany is indeed a repressive, totalitarian state,’ Werner thought, ’but it’s not without its merits.

At least from my perspective as a Transmigrator, their social security system is pretty good—cheap housing, free healthcare, women’s status is higher than in West Germany, childcare is everywhere, and the education level isn’t low.

After reunification, a lot of East Germans missed these things.

But right now, I have to make Peter believe that East Germany is absolute darkness and West Germany is absolute light. That’s the only way he’ll leave without hesitation.

To protect my Church line, to keep the entire network from being exposed, I have to make him go.

So, a little exaggeration doesn’t matter.’

Peter stood there, trembling all over. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, then opened them and looked at Werner.

"You’re right." His voice was quiet but firm. "I have to go."

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