I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 201: Chapter 111: Werner Starts Stirring Things Up

"Take care."

Vonke nodded and turned, walking toward the park entrance. His shadow stretched long under the lamplight, and the sound of his footsteps echoed across the empty, snow-covered ground.

Werner stood his ground, watching Vonke’s back disappear into the darkness.

He pulled out his cigarette case, put a cigarette to his lips, and lit it.

Vonke’s words echoed in his mind.

’Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.’

’Leave yourself a way out.’

’Jump off the ship before it sinks.’

These words aligned perfectly with his own thoughts.

Werner took a drag from his cigarette, looking at the Soviet Army monument in the distance. The massive statue stood tall in the night, depicting a Soviet soldier holding a child, his foot crushing a shattered Nazis symbol.

The city was filled with things like this, loaded with symbolism.

Monuments, statues, slogans, portraits.

Everywhere, there were reminders of the kind of country they lived in, the kind of regime they owed their loyalty to.

But Werner knew it would all pass.

’The Berlin Wall will fall, East Germany will perish, and this city will be reunified.’

’And what I have to do is make enough money and prepare my escape route before that day comes. Then, I can get out clean.’

Werner stubbed out his cigarette and turned to leave the park.

Behind him, the monument still stood, like an eternal night watchman.

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

After returning to his apartment, Werner double-locked the door and drew the curtains.

He sat at his desk and opened the envelope Vonke had given him.

Inside was a folded piece of paper with a dozen or so names typewritten on it. A position and department were noted after each name.

Gerhard Schulz, Head of the Archives Section, Third Directorate

Wolfgang Beck, Director of Logistics, Seventh Directorate

Carl Weber, Team Leader, Field Operations Group

...

They were all mid-to-low-level positions, inconspicuous but potentially useful at a critical moment.

Werner read the list carefully, committing it to memory. Then he picked up his lighter and set the paper on fire.

The paper curled and blackened in the flame, finally turning to ash and falling into the ashtray.

He couldn’t leave any evidence.

If Von Brown’s people searched his place and found this list, he’d be finished.

Werner stood up and walked to the window, peering through a slit in the curtains at the street below.

A Volvo sedan was parked at the corner. Two figures were sitting inside, barely visible in the darkness.

A Stasi surveillance car.

They were watching him.

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

March in East Berlin was still cold.

Werner sat in a small café near the New German Newspaper office, holding a cup of low-quality coffee substitute.

Erich pushed the door open and came in, a nervous expression on his face. He scanned the room, and after confirming there were no familiar faces, he quickly walked over and sat down across from Werner.

"Is everything ready?" Werner asked in a low voice.

"Yes." Erich pulled a manila envelope from his briefcase and pushed it to the center of the table. "Thirty-five photos, all taken just as you instructed."

Werner opened the envelope and pulled out a few photos to examine.

The first: At the Berlin Wall, an old woman reached out through the barbed wire. Opposite her was a young woman. Their fingers were less than ten centimeters apart, yet they could never touch.

The second: A boy stood by the Wall, holding up a letter. The envelope read, "To Papa in West Berlin."

The third: At a checkpoint, a family was saying goodbye. The mother cried while holding her child, and the father stood on the other side, his expression wooden.

The fourth: Inside a church, Pastor Weber was comforting a middle-aged woman. A family photo sat on the table, a man’s face circled within it.

Every photo was meticulously composed, the lighting, angle, and expressions all just right. No captions were needed; the images themselves told a story of separation, pain, and despair.

"Good work," Werner said, putting the photos back in the envelope. "Any problems at the newspaper office?"

"None." Erich rubbed his hands together. "I told them it was for promotional materials on ’Socialist Family Reunions’ and that I needed to take some contrasting photos first. The editor-in-chief approved it and even gave me access to a darkroom and developing equipment."

"And the negatives?"

"Right here." Erich took a small metal box from his bag. "All the negatives for the thirty-five photos. No copies were made."

Werner took the metal box and put it in his pocket.

"Excellent. For the time being, just focus on your work at the newspaper. Photograph what you’re supposed to, and don’t act any differently."

"But—" Erich hesitated. "Mr. Betelich, what are you going to do with these photos?"

Werner lifted his coffee cup and took a sip of the bitter liquid.

"I’m going to do what needs to be done."

"What’s that?"

"Give the people locked away in prison a chance to see their families." Werner put down his cup and looked at Erich. "Haven’t you always wanted to do something meaningful? This is it."

Erich’s eyes lit up for a moment, but then his expression fell again.

"But... will these photos get those people in trouble?"

"No." Werner shook his head. "The people in the photos were all carefully selected. There are no issues with their identities; they won’t be investigated. And where these photos are going is beyond the Stasi’s reach."

"Where is that?"

Werner didn’t answer, just stood up and picked up his coat.

"Remember, Erich, some things are safer the less you know." He clapped Erich on the shoulder. "You only need to remember one thing—the photos you took will help a lot of people."

With that, Werner turned and left the café.

That night, Werner met Joshua in a secret warehouse.

It was the basement of an abandoned factory in the Prenzlauer Berg District, a place Werner had previously used to store smuggled goods. The goods were all gone now, leaving only a few dim light bulbs and a pile of empty wooden crates in the corner.

"You said you had a plan?" Joshua asked, taking the envelope Werner handed him and pulling out the photos. "These photos—"

"Get these photos to West Germany. Use your channels to deliver them to the mainstream media there. *Der Spiegel*, the *World Newspaper*, the *Frankfurt Allgemeine Zeitung*—the bigger the paper, the better."

Joshua stared at the photos, his brow furrowed.

"You want to use public opinion to apply pressure?"

"Exactly." Werner lit a cigarette. "Do you know what Lawyer Vogel has been doing these past few months? He’s been lobbying officials, trying to push for a political prisoner exchange between East and West Germany. I hear high-level officials at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of Justice are discussing the proposal, but they haven’t made a decision."

"Why not?"

"Because they don’t have a good enough reason." Werner exhaled a puff of smoke. "The East German Government is short on foreign currency, that’s a fact. But openly trading political prisoners for cash would get them attacked by hardliners at home for compromising with the West. So they need a suitable reason, a ’humanitarian’ excuse."

Understanding dawned on Joshua.

"So you’re creating public pressure to make the West German Government take the initiative?"

"Right." Werner flicked his ash. "If public opinion in West Germany gets stirred up and people demand their government ransom their relatives trapped in East Germany, the West German Government will pressure East Germany. At that point, the East German Government will have its justification for starting the prisoner exchanges—it’s not us demanding money, it’s West Germany demanding people, and we’re just agreeing to the release ’out of humanitarian concern’."

Joshua was silent for a few seconds, then carefully put the photos back in the envelope.

"This plan is risky. If the East German Government investigates the source of the photos—"

"They won’t find it," Werner said. "The photos were taken in East Berlin, yes, but the photographer is an official photographer for the newspaper, and the reason given was an official propaganda project. I have the negatives, and there are no copies. As long as you handle things cleanly on your end, no one will trace it back to us."

"Handle it cleanly? Werner, do you have any idea how cautious West German intelligence is? The first thing they’ll do when they get these photos is investigate the source."

"So be prepared." Werner flicked his ash into a metal can on the floor. "Tell them you got these from an underground organization inside East Germany. Say the photographer is an anonymous dissident, and to protect his safety, you can’t reveal any information about his identity."

"Will they believe that?"

"They will." Werner’s tone was certain. "Because these photos are too valuable. The West German media needs material that resonates with people—separated families, trapped relatives, a humanitarian crisis. These are exactly the stories they want."

Joshua tucked the envelope into the inner pocket of his coat and looked at Werner.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean?"

"You’re doing very well for yourself in East Germany. You have connections in the Black Market, with officials, even with the Stasi. What’s in it for you to help us with this? If something goes wrong, you’ll go down with it."

Werner flicked his ash away and looked at Joshua.

"I have my reasons."

"What reasons?"

"You don’t need to know." Werner stubbed out his cigarette. "You only need to know one thing—our goals are aligned. You want to rescue those trapped people, and I want the prisoner exchanges to be legitimized. If this succeeds, it benefits us both."

Joshua stared at him for a few seconds before finally nodding.

"Alright. I’ll get the photos to West Germany as soon as possible."

"Remember, the sooner, the better," Werner said. "It would be best to have them all published in the West German papers before the end of March. Public opinion needs time to build, but we can’t drag it out too long, or the East German Government will have time to respond."

"Understood."

Joshua pushed the door open and left.

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

On March 28th, the West German magazine *Der Spiegel* published a photo feature titled, "Tears Behind the Iron Curtain: Families Divided by the Berlin Wall."

A full twelve pages, thirty-five photos, each with a brief but emotional caption.

"Ever since the Berlin Wall was built, this elderly mother has not seen her daughter. The Wall separates them forever; they can only gaze at each other from a distance, through the barbed wire."

"This child is waiting for his father. But his father is locked in an East German prison, his crime: ’Attempting to illegally cross the border’."

"This is a family about to be torn apart. The husband was arrested for political reasons, and his wife and child do not know when they will see him again."

The photos caused a sensation in West Germany.

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