I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 229: Chapter 12: An Optical Instruments Gold Mine

The secret apartment was in an old building in the Mitte District. It was one of the safe houses the Stasi had assigned to Anna.

The room was small but clean. The curtains were drawn tight, shutting out all sound from the outside.

The moment the door closed, the two of them embraced tightly.

Werner’s hand ran through her hair, feeling the warmth and trembling of her body. Her trench coat slipped to the floor, followed by her sweater, then her shirt, scattering one by one.

They stumbled toward the bed, their breathing growing ragged.

From outside the window came the occasional sound of a distant car, but inside the room, there was only the sound of their heartbeats and gasps.

Werner felt the searing heat of her skin, the pressure of her fingertips, and her low voice in his ear, as indistinct as words spoken in a dream.

That night, he finally forgot about orders, goods, profits, and risks.

He remembered only the fire in Anna’s eyes, the curve of her body, and the marks she left on his shoulders where she gripped him tightly.

* * *

Werner woke at dawn.

Anna was still asleep, lying on her side next to him, her breathing steady and deep.

Morning light filtered through a crack in the curtains, casting a faint play of light and shadow on her face and making her look exceptionally soft.

Werner watched her, and a thought suddenly came to him. Many years ago—or rather, before he’d transmigrated—he never would have imagined he’d end up with a woman like this.

’A Stasi agent. A double agent. Someone who could betray him, or be betrayed by him, at any moment.’

But now, none of that seemed to matter.

In this world of lies and schemes, the two of them could at least give each other a little genuine warmth.

Anna opened her eyes and saw Werner looking at her.

"You’re awake?"

"Yeah."

"Then get up." She sat up, her smooth back to him, and began to dress. "I have work today."

Werner sat up too, watching as she skillfully straightened her clothes and combed her hair, transforming back into the calm, capable Stasi officer, as if none of what just happened had ever occurred.

"Anna," he said suddenly.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Anna stopped what she was doing and looked back at him. The corner of her mouth curved into a smile that held both tenderness and mockery.

"Thank me for what? For sleeping with you?"

"For always being here."

Anna stared at him for a few seconds, then walked over and leaned down to kiss him lightly on the forehead. Her lips were cool, carrying the chill of the morning.

"Fool." She straightened up, her voice soft. "We’re in the same boat. I only do well when you do."

She put on her trench coat, buttoned it up, and walked to the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she glanced back at him.

"Call me when you’re done with your business. Don’t disappear for so long again."

"Okay."

The door closed softly.

Werner sat on the bed, bare-chested, and lit a cigarette.

’This relationship probably won’t lead anywhere.’

’Anna wouldn’t ask him for any promises, and he wouldn’t make her any.’

’They were just two people seeking warmth in the darkness, each getting what they needed. Nothing more.’

Outside, Berlin was waking up. The clang of a tram bell rang out as people began their day’s work.

Werner stood up, got dressed, and prepared to return to that world of orders, profits, and schemes.

’He had a lot to do.’

* * *

One morning in early April, while Werner was organizing documents in his Koko office, a notification suddenly popped up from his system.

[Important Business Opportunity: Zeiss Optical Instruments. The optical technology of the East German Jena Zeiss Factory is world-leading and will become a pillar of East Germany’s export industry for the next decade.]

Werner’s hand froze over the document.

’Zeiss.’

He couldn’t be more familiar with the name. The Jena Zeiss Factory was the pride of East Germany, producing lenses, microscopes, and measuring instruments that were not only supplied to Eastern Europe but also exported to Western countries.

Before the Berlin Wall went up, Werner had been in the camera business for a while.

Back then, Zeiss was East Germany’s flagship export product, used specifically to earn foreign currency. As a result, it was actually very difficult to buy in East Germany itself.

So Werner had imported Zeiss cameras that East Germany had exported to West Germany, then smuggled them back into East Germany to sell, making a tidy profit.

But that was just small-time stuff. Now, he was going to do much bigger business.

If he could break into the Zeiss supply chain and work directly with people inside the factory, the profits would be dozens of times what they were back then.

’The question was how to get in.’

’Zeiss was a key state-owned enterprise with strict management; not just anyone could get access. Moreover, optical instruments were precision equipment involving technical secrets. The Stasi was definitely keeping a close watch.’

’He had to find the right person to act as a bridge.’

Werner thought of Dominic Schiller—an official in the foreign trade department and a photography enthusiast.

Werner had been able to connect with Schiller in the first place because he had gotten him a Leica camera from West Germany that Schiller had been dreaming of. After that, the two began a series of collaborations.

The man was well-connected and especially popular in intellectual and technical circles.

If Schiller could make an introduction, things would be much easier.

He picked up the phone.

"Comrade Schiller, it’s me, Werner."

"Ah, Werner." Schiller’s enthusiastic voice came through the line. "How have you been? I hear you’re thriving over at Koko."

"Can’t complain," Werner said with a chuckle. "I’m calling today to ask for a favor. Do you know anyone at the Jena Zeiss Factory? On the technical side, preferably at the supervisor level."

Schiller was silent for a few seconds. "The Zeiss Factory? What are you planning?"

"I’d like to discuss some business," Werner said. "It’s nothing shady. I just want to understand their production situation and see if there are any opportunities for cooperation."

"Hmm..." Schiller paused. "I did recently meet someone. Kurt Schmidt, a technical supervisor at the Zeiss Factory. He’s in his fifties, an old-school technician. The man isn’t interested in politics; he’s completely absorbed in his research. I met him at an academic conference a while back. We get along quite well."

"Can you introduce me?"

"I can. But Werner, you need to be careful." Schiller’s voice turned serious. "The Zeiss Factory is a key enterprise, and the Stasi watches it closely. If you’re planning to do anything against the rules, you’d better think twice."

"Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing," Werner said. "It’s just normal business cooperation."

"Alright then. I’m going to Jena this weekend for a technical exchange meeting. Kurt will be there too. Do you want to come along?"

"Of course."

* * *

Jena is located over 200 kilometers south of East Berlin, a train ride of more than three hours.

Early Saturday morning, Werner and Schiller set out together. The train traveled along the hilly terrain of Thuringia, with endless forests and small towns passing by outside the window.

"Kurt is a very straightforward man," Schiller said quietly in the train car. "He only cares about two things: technology and research funding. If you can help him on those two fronts, he’ll be very grateful to you."

"He’s short on funding?"

"Who isn’t?" Schiller gave a wry smile. "The state gives the Zeiss Factory a sizable budget, but it all goes to the production lines. People like Kurt who are in R&D get very little of it. Besides, a lot of advanced equipment and technical materials are in the West. East Germany can’t buy them, so they have to figure things out on their own."

Werner nodded. ’This is the opportunity.’

It was already noon when the train arrived in Jena.

The technical exchange was held in a conference room on the factory grounds. Most of the attendees were technicians and scholars, dressed in simple work clothes or suits, wearing thick glasses, and earnestly discussing optical principles and production processes.

Schiller led Werner to Kurt Schmidt.

He was a man in his fifties with graying hair and a wrinkled face. He wore a faded work coat and was holding a stack of technical drawings, discussing something with a few young technicians.

"Kurt," Schiller said, walking over. "Long time no see."

Kurt looked up, and a smile appeared on his face when he saw Schiller.

"Schiller! What are you doing here?"

"Came for the meeting," Schiller said. "And to introduce a friend." He turned and gestured to Werner. "This is Werner. He works for Koko. He’s very interested in optical instruments and wanted to talk with you."

Kurt sized up Werner, a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

"Koko?" He frowned. "Aren’t you people in foreign trade? Why the interest in optical instruments?"

"Because I believe Zeiss’s products have immense potential," Werner said, extending his hand. "Comrade Kurt, it’s a pleasure to meet you."

Kurt hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand.

"What can I do for you?"

"Could we find a place to speak privately?" Werner asked. "I have an idea that might be of some help to you."

Kurt glanced at Schiller, who nodded.

"Alright then," Kurt said. "Follow me."

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