I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 221: Chapter 4: The Difference Between Koko and the Black Market

It rang three times before someone picked up.

"Von Brown."

"It’s me, Werner. I need to ask you about something."

"Go on." Von Brown’s voice was strictly business.

"Koko has a shipment coming in through Rostock Port. Catalyst, a controlled substance. I need customs at the port to not be too strict."

"What kind of shipment?"

Werner quickly explained.

After listening, Von Brown let out a cold laugh.

"The order for the Leipzig Chemical Plant? I know about it. That shipment is indeed important." He paused. "Alright, I’ll have a word with the Border Guard at the port. But you have to guarantee that once the goods arrive in East Germany, there won’t be any problems."

"Don’t worry."

"Also," Von Brown lowered his voice, "once this is done, remember to come and visit me."

’He’s asking for a cut,’ Werner understood.

"No problem."

After hanging up, Werner breathed a sigh of relief. The customs hurdle was cleared.

Now all he could do was wait for news.

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

Three days later, Reynard called.

"It’s done. BASF agreed. The goods have been sent to Zurich. Once Bruner receives them, he’ll repackage everything and forge them to look like samples from the ’University of Zurich Chemistry Lab’. I’ve prepared the documents too—the purchase contract, lab certificate, customs declaration form, the whole set."

"When will it reach Hamburg?"

"Five days, at the earliest."

"Alright. I’ll have Carl prepare to receive the shipment."

Five more days passed, and Reynard called again.

"The shipment’s in Hamburg, at the warehouse on Pier 18. Carl’s men are already on their way to pick it up."

"Good."

The next afternoon, Carl called. His voice was a little tense.

"Werner, we’ve got a situation."

Werner’s heart sank. "What kind of situation?"

"We got the goods, but the harbor police did a spot check as we were leaving port." Carl lowered his voice. "They suspected my ship was carrying contraband and insisted on opening the crates to inspect the cargo."

"And then?"

"I showed them the documents Bruner forged, said they were lab samples headed for the University of Copenhagen." Carl paused. "But one of the officers didn’t buy it and said he was going to call his superior."

Werner gripped the receiver tightly. "What did you do?"

"I slipped them a thousand Marks and finally got them to leave." Carl sighed. "But because of this, I can’t take the original route. I’ll have to take a detour, go north to avoid the patrol boats. It’ll delay us by an extra two days."

Werner glanced at the calendar. ’Today is the eighth day. Six days left.’

"It’s fine, keep going. Call me when you get to Rostock."

"Alright. But Werner," Carl’s voice dropped even lower, "this was a close call. The Baltic Sea is crawling with patrol boats right now. I have to be extremely careful. For the next job like this, the price will have to go up."

"We’ll talk about it then. Let’s finish this job first."

Three more days passed. Werner was in his office handling paperwork when the phone suddenly rang.

"Werner!" Carl’s voice was rushed and excited. "The shipment’s here! Rostock Port, Pier 3!"

Werner let out a breath of relief. "What about customs?"

"You greased the wheels on your end, so customs didn’t give me any trouble. They still did a symbolic check, opened a crate to take a look. I showed them the documents saying it was ’industrial experimental samples’ destined for Leipzig. They checked the approval documents and let it through."

"Where are the goods now?"

"In the pier warehouse. When are you coming to pick them up?"

"I’ll be there this afternoon."

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

By the time Werner drove to Rostock, it was already evening.

The wind from the Baltic Sea blew in, cold and salty, and the air was thick with the smell of fish and diesel.

Pier 3 was a small cargo dock where a few rust-streaked freighters were moored. Carl’s ship was at the very end, its hull painted with faded red paint.

Carl was standing on the pier, wearing a thick wool coat and an old felt hat, smoking a pipe. When he saw Werner, he grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth.

"Werner! You’re finally here!"

"Where’s the cargo?"

"In the warehouse." Carl pointed with his pipe at a gray building nearby. "My man is watching it, don’t worry."

The two of them walked into the warehouse.

It was filled with stacked crates, and the air was damp and cold.

Carl’s first mate—a burly man with a full beard—was sitting beside the crates, holding a cup of coffee.

"Boss." The first mate stood up.

"Have you checked the cargo?" Carl asked.

"Checked it. The crates haven’t been touched, and the seals are intact."

Werner walked over to the crates and inspected them carefully.

There were twelve wooden crates. Each one had a "University of Zurich Chemistry Lab" label, and the seals were intact, showing no signs of tampering.

He pried open one of the crates. Inside were neatly arranged glass bottles, each wrapped in styrofoam.

Werner picked up a bottle and held it up to the light to examine it—a clear liquid, with a label that read "Palladium Catalyst, 99.5% Purity."

"No problem." Werner put the bottle back and turned to Carl. "Good work."

"All in a day’s work." Carl grinned. "Where’s the money?"

Werner took an envelope from his coat. Inside was the remaining two thousand West German Marks.

Carl took it, counted the money expressionlessly, and then stuffed it into his coat pocket.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He extended his hand.

Werner shook his hand. "I’ll call you for the next one."

"Anytime. But give me a heads-up next time. The Baltic Sea is really tricky to navigate these days." Carl lowered his voice. "I heard West Germany is stepping up its maritime patrols, specifically targeting ships going in and out of East Germany. You’ll have to be more careful if you use this route in the future."

"I will."

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

Two days later, the cargo arrived in Leipzig.

Werner personally accompanied the truck and watched as workers moved the crates of catalyst into the Leipzig Chemical Plant’s warehouse.

The plant manager came to receive the shipment himself. He was a man in his fifties, wearing a faded work uniform, his face beaming with excitement.

"Comrade Betelich, you’ve really saved us!" The manager gripped Werner’s hand and shook it vigorously. "If this shipment had been three days later, our production line would have had to shut down. What would the five thousand workers at this plant have done then? What about the state’s production plan?"

"I was just doing my duty," Werner said politely.

"No, no, this is much more than that." The manager waved his hand. "I’m going to send a letter of thanks to Koko immediately, and I’ll be sure to praise you by name!"

Werner smiled but didn’t say anything.

By the time he returned to East Berlin, it was the thirteenth day.

Werner had just stepped into the office when Otto rushed out from the inner room, a rare smile on his face.

"Well done!" He clapped Werner on the shoulder. "The chemical plant just called. They said they received the shipment and the quality is perfect. The plant manager was so thrilled he said he wants to have you officially commended."

"Just got lucky."

"Don’t be so modest." Otto said with a laugh. "I’ve been in this line of work for ten years, and I’ve seen too many people screw up simple jobs. The fact that you could pull off such a complicated procurement in such a short time shows you’ve got real skill."

He walked over to his desk and took an envelope out of the drawer.

"Your bonus. Five thousand West German Marks."

Werner took the envelope and felt its weight. It contained a thick stack of bills.

"Thank you."

"I’m the one who should be thanking you." Otto lit a cigarette. "At the department meeting tomorrow, I’m going to bring this up in front of Gunter. You’ve had a good start, kid."

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

At ten o’clock that night, Werner returned to his secret apartment.

He took off his coat, poured a glass of vodka, and stood by the window, looking out at the night.

’These past two weeks have really shown me how Koko operates. It’s a completely different world from the Black Market.’

’The Black Market is all about information gaps and connections—whoever knows where the goods are, and whoever knows the key people, makes the money.’

’But Koko plays a game of systems and rules. You have to understand policy, procedure, and how to navigate between different departments.’

’A single procurement order involves the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Customs, the Border Guard, the Stasi... Every link in the chain has to be properly handled.’

Werner took a sip of his drink.

’But the advantage is, once you pull it off, the profits are huge.’

’More importantly, this is just the lowest level of business. Otto said that once I’ve found my footing, there will be bigger deals—military procurement, rare metal trading. That’s where the real money is.’

Werner drained the vodka in his glass.

He was beginning to understand the value of this platform.

’Koko isn’t just a place to make money; it’s a nexus of power. Here, I can access East Germany’s core resource allocation system, build a network of contacts that spans East and West, and prepare for the transition after 1989.’

’And now, the first step has been taken.’

Werner turned and walked toward the bedroom.

’There’s still a lot to do tomorrow.’

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