I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 228: Chapter 11: Tenfold Frenzy

Ten minutes later, the room was packed.

"I’ve called you all here today because a huge opportunity has come up." Werner got straight to the point. "You’ve all seen the papers, right? The NES reforms are expanding their trial run."

"We’ve seen them," Keller nodded. "Two hundred factories across the country can now use their own profits to make purchases."

"Right." Werner lit a cigarette. "When the NES pilot program started last year, we made a killing. Now that the scope has expanded, the opportunity is even bigger."

"So what’s our plan?" Franz asked.

"First, inventory," Werner said. "At the end of last year, I anticipated this day would come, so I ordered a batch of goods from West Germany. It’s sitting in the warehouse right now. But this batch isn’t enough. We need to order more."

"How much more?"

"Ten times as much."

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the room.

"Ten times? Boss, do we have enough capital for such a large volume?" Keller asked.

"We do," Werner said. "I’ve already contacted our people in West Germany. They can ship the goods first, and we’ll settle the payment after we receive them." He paused. "But the price has gone up by 20%."

"Let it go up then," Franz said. "We’ll just raise our prices when we sell."

"Exactly." Werner flicked the ash from his cigarette. "This time, we’ll focus on these key items: lathes, electric welders, typewriters, radios, and watches. These are all things the factories desperately need, and supply can’t meet demand."

"What about transport?" Keller asked. "With a volume this large, there’s no way we can use normal channels."

"We’ll move it in batches," Werner said. "One part will go through Matthias’s border crossing, another through Carl’s port channel, and the rest through the Church route. We’ll use multiple avenues to spread the risk."

"Understood."

"Also, pricing." Werner looked at the group. "Supply can’t keep up with demand right now, so we can raise our prices. Last year, we sold radios for fifty Marks a piece. Now, we’ll raise that to seventy-five. Same for watches, from eighty to one hundred and twenty."

"Isn’t that too much of an increase?" Keller seemed worried. "Will the factories refuse to buy?"

"They won’t." Werner shook his head. "You don’t understand the mindset at these factories. They have money and purchasing quotas to meet. Their biggest fear is not being able to find the goods. As long as we can supply them, price is not an issue. Besides—" He paused. "They’re spending the state’s money, not their own. They don’t feel the sting."

A few low chuckles went through the room.

"So when do we start?" Franz asked.

"Right now." Werner stood up. "Franz, you’re in charge of contacting all our old clients—the factories we worked with last year. Call them one by one. Tell them we have stock, but not much. First come, first served."

"Got it."

"Keller, you’ll arrange the border transport. The volume of goods is going to be huge for the next two months, so be prepared. Give Matthias a heads-up."

"No problem."

"Thomas, we need to push the port channel harder, too. You said last time that Carl had some spare capacity. Now’s the perfect time to use it."

"I’ll talk to Carl as soon as I get back."

"Hank, the Church route can’t be idle either. The volume might not be large, but it’s reliable. We’ll move some of the more sensitive goods through the Church line."

"Okay."

Werner looked around the room, his voice rising a few notches. "Brothers, this is a rare opportunity. If we do this right, every one of us will earn over fifty thousand Marks this year."

The room immediately buzzed with excitement. Everyone’s eyes lit up.

Fifty thousand West German Marks was a huge sum of money for people like them.

"Meeting adjourned," Werner said with a wave of his hand. "Everyone, get to your preparations. Come find me if any issues come up."

The crowd dispersed, leaving only Keller standing in place.

"Boss, one more thing," he said, lowering his voice. "That batch of chemical raw materials you asked me to keep an eye on—it’s available now. The seller is asking for thirty thousand West German Marks. Do you want it?"

"Yes," Werner answered without a second thought. "But inspect the goods carefully. There can’t be any mistakes."

"Understood."

After Keller left, Werner sat alone in the room and lit another cigarette.

Outside, the setting sun slanted in, casting long shadows on the wall.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Werner picked up the receiver.

"Werner? It’s me, Helmut."

It was Helmut, the deputy director of the Leipzig Chemical Plant, and his voice was filled with excitement.

"Helmut, what’s up?"

"Did you see the papers? The reforms have been expanded! Our plant is on the list! The director just approved a purchasing budget of five hundred thousand Marks and put me in complete charge. Werner, do you have any stock?"

Werner leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"I do, but not much," he said, pausing deliberately. "And with the high demand lately, the price has gone up."

"How much?"

"Thirty percent."

The line went silent for a few seconds, then Helmut said through gritted teeth, "Fine! As long as you can guarantee the quality, price isn’t an issue. Our factory’s production quota has doubled this year, so we have the money. The workers absolutely loved that batch of Swiss watches and West German radios you got for us last time. The director said he wants to get a batch for every workshop this year to boost morale and productivity."

"Then I’ll set a batch aside for you." Werner jotted down the numbers in his notebook. "Two hundred watches, three hundred radios. Delivery within two weeks, is that acceptable?"

"Yes, yes!" Helmut agreed almost immediately. "Don’t worry about the money. We’ll pay half as a deposit upfront."

"Alright, it’s settled then."

He hung up, but before he could even catch his breath, the phone rang again.

This time, it was Director Schmidt from the Dresden Mechanical Plant.

"Comrade Werner, do you have any precision lathes? And welding equipment? Our factory is expanding production and we need them urgently!"

"I do," Werner said. "But the price—"

"The price is negotiable!" Schmidt cut him off. "As long as you can get the goods, we’ll pay whatever it takes! Our factory director gave me a budget of one million Marks, and we’re just waiting on your supply!"

Werner laughed to himself.

’These factories are like a pack of starving wolves now,’ he thought. ’They’ll pounce on any meat they see, without a second thought for the price.’

"Alright then, I’ll make the arrangements for you." He jotted another note in his book. "Five lathes, ten welders. Delivery within a month."

"Wonderful! Comrade Werner, you’re a true lifesaver!"

For the next two hours, the phone rang nonstop.

Wolf from Karl Marx, the shipyard in Rostock... all the factories that had worked with him last year called asking for goods.

Everyone was in a frenzy, each offering a higher budget than the last. Some factories even said that as long as he could supply the goods, he could name his price.

Werner took calls while furiously scribbling in his notebook. When the last call ended, he looked at the densely packed orders and did a quick calculation in his head.

Conservatively, the total value of these orders exceeded two million East German Marks. And this was just the first wave.

The reforms had only just begun. Over the next two months, the orders would only increase.

Werner stood up and walked to the window. The sky outside had darkened, and the streetlights were coming on one by one. The nights in the Prenzlauer Berg District were quiet, with the occasional DING-DING-DING of a passing tram.

He lit a cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

This March would be a turning point for him.

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

For the next month, Werner barely got a full night’s sleep.

During the day, he handled official business at Koko—negotiating prisoner exchanges, procuring industrial equipment, and coordinating with various departments.

At night, he would return to the Black Market hideout to manage his private business—coordinating suppliers, arranging transport, and negotiating prices with factories.

He was running two tracks at once, and each required his full attention.

Reynard was frantically sourcing goods from West Germany.

Lathes, welders, radios, watches—batch after batch was smuggled into East Germany through various channels.

Some came through border crossings, hidden in the false compartments of transport trucks. Others came via the port route, disguised as machine parts. Still others entered through the Church channel under the guise of "charitable donations."

The goods were sold out before they even reached the warehouse.

The prices kept climbing.

At first, they rose by 30%, then 50%, and eventually, they simply doubled.

But the factories didn’t care at all—they had money and purchasing quotas, and their biggest fear was not being able to find the goods. As long as Werner could deliver, the price was no object.

The numbers in Werner’s bank account grew rapidly. Five hundred thousand, seven hundred thousand, one million... West German Marks flowed in like water.

But he had no time to celebrate.

Every day was a blur of procurement, coordination, negotiation, and settlement.

Some days he’d make over thirty phone calls and sign more than twenty documents. When he got back to his place at night, he would collapse onto the bed and fall asleep instantly.

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

One evening at the end of March, just as Werner was leaving the Black Market hideout, he saw a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost on the street corner.

Anna.

She was wearing a black trench coat, her hands stuffed in her pockets. The dim yellow light fell on her face, softening her features.

Werner stopped in his tracks.

"What are you doing here?"

"You haven’t come to see me, so I had to come find you," Anna said, walking over from beneath the lamppost.

Werner had indeed been too busy lately. The business with Koko and the Black Market was suffocating him.

"Never mind." She turned and walked toward the street. "Come on, my treat tonight. You look like you need a decent meal."

"Where are we going?"

"Just follow me."

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

The restaurant was in a small alley in the Prenzlauer Berg District. It looked unremarkable from the outside, but pushing the door open revealed a whole different world.

Dim lighting, jazz flowing from an old record player, and the air thick with the smell of tobacco and red wine.

Places like this were rare in East Berlin—most restaurants were state-run, with rigid decor and cookie-cutter menus. But this establishment obviously had special channels; they even had French red wine on the list.

Anna ordered two glasses of wine and a plate of roasted venison. When the waiter brought it over, the aroma was intoxicating.

"A toast to your new fortune." She raised her glass, a playful glint in her eyes. "I hear you’ve been making a killing lately."

Werner raised his glass and clinked it against hers.

"Your information network is that good?"

"Have you forgotten what I do?" Anna took a sip of wine. "I know about any little stir at Koko. And your Black Market business has been making quite a splash lately."

Werner didn’t say anything, just took a sip of his wine. The flavor of the red wine spread across his tongue, a mix of bitterness and fruit.

"You look exhausted lately." Anna put down her glass, her gaze softening. "You’ve lost weight."

"It’s been a bit busy," Werner said. "This opportunity with the reforms is too good to pass up. I have to seize it. And things at Koko are piling up too. I just took over the prisoner exchanges, and we’re still working out the kinks in the process."

"I know." Anna nodded, spearing a piece of meat with her fork. "But you need to take care of yourself, too. What’s the point of earning all that money if your health collapses?"

Werner looked at her. This woman seemed cold on the surface, always acting businesslike, but he knew she was concerned about him.

"Once this busy period is over, I’ll rest," he said. "And I’ll spend some proper time with you then."

But Anna just smiled.

"Werner, we’re both adults. We don’t need false promises like that." She placed her glass on the table, her fingers tracing the rim. "I know you have your career, and I have my work. We just need to make sure that when one of us needs the other, they’re there. That’s enough."

Werner looked into Anna’s eyes. There was no resentment in them, no disappointment, only an almost cruel clarity.

Anna would never act coy with him, never throw a tantrum, never demand any promises.

She just stood by his side quietly, appearing when he needed her and stepping back when he was busy, never wasting a single word.

Perhaps this was the kind of relationship that was most suitable for them.

Werner put down his glass and reached out to take Anna’s hand.

Her fingers were cool but her grip was firm. He could feel the thin calluses on her fingertips.

"Then what if I said I need you right now?"

Anna’s expression changed. A fire suddenly ignited in those calm eyes, like an undercurrent beneath a sheet of ice, ready to break through at any moment.

She stood up and grabbed her coat from the table.

"Then let’s not waste any more time."

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