Chapter 210: Chapter 120: Crisis
Keller walked over, picked up a stack of bills, and started counting. He counted very slowly, his fingers trembling.
"I’ve never seen so much money in my life..." he muttered to himself. "This has to be... has to be..."
"One hundred thousand," Werner said, lighting a cigarette. "In the case."
"One hundred thousand?" Keller looked up, his face filled with shock. "Boss, this... we made a hundred thousand from this one deal?"
"There’s another fifty thousand elsewhere," Werner said, exhaling a puff of smoke. "One hundred fifty thousand in total."
Keller sucked in a sharp breath.
"One hundred fifty thousand... West German Marks..." He put down the bills and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Boss, you’ve struck it rich. You’ve really struck it rich."
Werner didn’t reply.
He stared at the bills on the table, calculating in his head.
’One hundred fifty thousand is a good start, but it’s not enough.’
’If history follows its course, the political prisoner exchanges between East and West Germany will continue until the late 1980s, involving tens of thousands of people and totaling billions of Marks.’
’I’m now at the beginning of this supply chain. If I play my cards right, I could do at least twenty to thirty deals a year, averaging one to two hundred thousand per deal.’
’That’s three to four million a year.’
’In ten years, that’s thirty to forty million.’
’That’s enough.’
’Enough for me to buy a house in West Germany, start a company, clean up my identity, and live a truly free life.’
’But the prerequisite is—’
’this project has to be sustainable, and I have to get out completely before East Germany collapses.’
Werner mentally calculated how he would use this money.
’I’ll split it three ways. Fifty thousand will stay here for emergencies. Fifty thousand will be transferred to West Germany through Reynard and deposited into a secret account. As for the remaining fifty thousand, part of it will be converted into Gold and US Dollars, and the other part will be reinvested into the business.’
Werner took an envelope out of a drawer and handed it to Keller. "This is for you."
Keller took the envelope, opened it, and saw ten one-hundred Mark bills inside.
"A thousand Marks?" He was stunned. "Boss, this—"
"You’ve worked hard lately," Werner said. "Take it. From now on, you’ll get a cut of every successful deal."
Keller clutched the envelope, his eyes turning a little red.
"Boss... I..."
"Don’t get all emotional," Werner said with a wave of his hand. "Go get it done."
"Right!" Keller wiped his eyes, turned, and started to walk out. At the door, he looked back. "Boss, following you is damn well worth it!"
Werner smiled.
After Keller left, Werner looked back at the bills on the table.
He picked one up and held it to the light.
The West German Mark had an exquisite design. The front featured the portrait of a famous historical German figure, and the back had an architectural design. This was a one-hundred Mark bill, with Clara Schumann—the nineteenth-century pianist—printed on the front.
Werner recalled something he had read in a history book as a child.
After the unification of East and West Germany in 1990, the East German Mark was exchanged for the West German Mark at a rate of 1:1 or 2:1, but its actual purchasing power was far from that ratio. The life savings of many East Germans shrank to a tenth of their original value after unification.
But the West German Marks he now held would have roughly the same purchasing power after unification.
’This is the value of planning ahead.’
He put the bills back in the combination-lock briefcase, locked it, and placed it in the safe in the corner of the wall.
**************
At six in the evening, Werner met Hopter at the "Song of the Workers" tavern.
Hopter was wearing a plain jacket and a hat, looking like a factory manager just off his shift. A glass of beer sat in front of him, but he had only taken a few sips.
"Did you get the money?" he asked.
"I got it."
"Satisfied?"
"Very satisfied." Werner raised his own beer mug. "This is just the beginning, right?"
"Right." Hopter lowered his voice. "The higher-ups are very pleased. They’ve given their approval for us to continue the operation."
"When’s the next deal?"
"Soon." Hopter pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and pushed it in front of Werner. "West Germany submitted another list. Eight people. The price is higher this time—one hundred and twenty thousand per person."
Werner took the note and glanced at it.
Eight names, each followed by their profession and alleged crime.
"Nine hundred and sixty thousand in total?"
"Correct." Hopter took a sip of beer. "After deducting the three hundred and twenty thousand on the official books, there’s six hundred and forty thousand left. You’ll get two hundred and ten thousand."
Werner folded the note and tucked it into his pocket.
"One more thing." Hopter put down his glass. "Be careful with Von Brown."
Werner’s hand paused.
"What about him?"
"He’s auditing the books." Hopter’s voice grew even lower. "He went through all the documents for the first deal. Although there’s nothing wrong on paper, he’s not stupid. He must have guessed that we’re skimming off the top."
"Did he say anything?"
"No." Hopter shook his head. "But I get the feeling he’s watching us. Werner, Von Brown is a dangerous man. He’s very ambitious and ruthless. If he decides we’re in his way, or if he wants to snatch this lucrative piece of business for himself, he’ll stop at nothing."
Werner nodded.
"I understand."
"Also," Hopter paused, "be careful with your cash flow. Don’t keep too much cash in East Germany. Transfer it to West Germany as soon as possible. If Von Brown decides to audit you one day and finds a large sum of money with no clear origin, you’ll be in big trouble."
"I know," Werner said. "It’s already being arranged."
Hopter stood up and picked up his hat.
"I’m off, then. As for our next meeting, I’ll contact you after Vogel gets the release orders sorted out."
"Alright."
Hopter turned and disappeared into the noisy crowd.
Werner sat there and lit another cigarette.
’Von Brown.’
The name was like a thorn in his side.
He knew Hopter was right.
’Von Brown isn’t a fool; he can definitely see there’s something fishy going on. He hasn’t made a move yet, probably because he’s observing, or waiting for an opportunity.’
’But one day, Von Brown will make his move.’
’When that day comes, I must have enough leverage to protect myself.’
He stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, and left the tavern.
*******************
At eleven o’clock at night, Werner was in a public phone booth, calling Reynard.
The phone rang three times before it was answered.
"It’s me," Werner said.
"Werner?" Reynard’s voice sounded somewhat tired. "It’s so late. What’s up?"
"I need a favor," Werner said. "Fifty thousand West German Marks need to be transferred to West Germany."
"Fifty thousand?" Reynard’s tone became alert. "That’s not a small sum. Has something happened?"
"Nothing’s happened," Werner said. "I just made some money and want to put it somewhere safe."
Reynard was silent for a few seconds.
"Alright," Reynard said. "But Werner, I have to warn you. A large transfer like this can easily attract attention. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I’m sure."
"Okay, then," Reynard said. "I’ll arrange for a secret account at a Swiss Bank, under your alias. I’ll give you the account number and password once it’s set up."
"Thanks."
"Don’t mention it." Reynard paused. "Werner, your business has gotten pretty big lately. Be careful not to overplay your hand."
"I know."
Werner hung up the phone and pushed open the door of the booth.
The street was empty, with only a distant streetlight flickering in the darkness.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked briskly toward the subway station in the cold wind.
His mind was already calculating the next steps in his plan.
’First deal, two hundred thousand in hand.’
’The second, if it goes smoothly, could earn over three hundred thousand.’
’That’s half a million from two deals.’
’A few more deals, and I could save up a million within a year.’
’By then, I’ll transfer all the money to West Germany, buy a house, buy company shares, and clean up my identity.’
’Then, before East Germany collapses, I’ll find a chance to leave.’
’The plan is perfect.’
’But the prerequisite is—’
’Von Brown doesn’t make his move too soon.’
’The Stasi doesn’t launch a surprise audit.’
’There are too many uncertain factors.’
Werner entered the subway station and sat on a bench to wait for the train.
He was the only one on the platform.
The dim light cast long shadows on the concrete floor.
The sound of a train approached from the distance, growing louder until it stopped at the platform.
The doors opened, and Werner stepped inside.
****************
「A few weeks later.」
Werner was in his secret office, organizing his ledgers.
The ledgers were filled with dense records of various transactions: smuggled tobacco from the port, charitable supplies from Church channels, foreign exchange arbitrage from foreign trade shops, and the commissions from the recent political prisoner exchanges. Every number represented a risk, a gamble.
Suddenly, the phone rang.
Werner checked his watch. 7:30 PM.
Few people called this line at this hour—it was his private line, and only a few core partners knew the number.
He picked up the receiver.
"It’s me." Erich’s voice, tinged with obvious tension, came through the earpiece. "I need to see you. Now."
Werner frowned.
’Erich is rarely this direct, and even more rarely uses such an urgent tone.’
Their communications were usually very cautious, with the time and place of their meetings arranged well in advance to avoid arousing suspicion.
"What’s wrong?"
"I can’t talk about it over the phone," Erich whispered. "The usual place, in half an hour."
With that, he hung up.
Werner stared at the receiver for a few seconds before slowly putting it down.
A sense of foreboding washed over him.
’Erich works at a newspaper and has access to insider information. If he’s this desperate to meet, something big must have happened.’
’And it’s very likely related to me.’
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