Chapter 235: Chapter 18: Congo Arms Deal
"But there is one thing," Werner said. "What if Western intelligence agencies get on to this deal—"
"They will." Gunter cut him off, his voice calm. "Congo is a powder keg right now. All the major powers have placed their bets there. West Germany’s BND, the United States’ CIA, France’s intelligence services—they’re all monitoring the flow of arms in the area."
"Then we—"
"That’s why we have to be careful." Gunter walked to the window, his back to the others. "Werner, you have connections in West Germany, don’t you?"
Werner’s heart tightened. "I have some business contacts."
"Good." Gunter turned around. "I want you to use your West German channels to spread some disinformation. Say that some French arms dealers are negotiating a deal in Congo. Divert their attention."
This was a counter-intelligence operation. Werner understood that Gunter was asking him not just to monitor funds, but also to provide intelligence cover.
"Understood," he said.
"This deal involves 1.2 million US Dollars, not to mention the relationship between East Germany and the Soviet Union. If we screw this up, we’ll all pay a heavy price."
"Don’t worry, Director," he nodded.
**************
That night, Werner returned to his apartment and immediately called Reynard.
"I need you to do me a favor," he said directly. "Spread a rumor in West Germany."
"What kind of rumor?" Reynard’s voice was cautious.
"Just say you heard some French arms dealers are negotiating a deal in Congo, something in the neighborhood of a million US Dollars," Werner said. "Don’t be too specific. Make it sound like the kind of gossip you’d overhear in a bar."
There were a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.
"Werner, what are you getting into?"
"Don’t ask," Werner said. "Do me this favor, and I’ll give you ten thousand West German Marks."
Another moment of silence.
"Fine," Reynard finally said. "But if anything goes wrong, I don’t know anything."
"Of course."
After hanging up, Werner lit a cigarette.
The first step was complete. Now he just had to wait for the client’s money.
Three days later, in the afternoon, Weber called.
"It’s here. Five hundred thousand US Dollars, down to the last cent."
"Have you confirmed it?"
"Confirmed. The account in Switzerland has received the payment, and it’s being transferred in installments to our foreign currency accounts."
Werner put down the phone and let out a long sigh of relief.
That evening, he went to the villa in the suburbs. Anna was already waiting for him.
"Did it go smoothly?" she asked.
"The down payment is in." Werner took off his coat and sat on the sofa. "Five hundred thousand US Dollars."
Anna poured him a drink and handed it to him. "Von Brown got the news too. The Stasi has sent people to Rostock Port to monitor the loading process and ensure no Western Spies infiltrate."
"Will they follow the ship to Congo?"
"No. They’re only monitoring the domestic portion." Anna sat down next to him. "Von Brown said that once the cargo is at sea, it’s no longer the Stasi’s responsibility. It’s a matter for the Ministry of Defense and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
Werner nodded.
"Are you nervous?" Anna asked.
"A little," Werner admitted. "This is the first time I’ve been involved in a deal this big. If something goes wrong—"
"Nothing will go wrong." Anna took his hand. "If Gunter was willing to entrust this mission to you, it means he’s fully prepared. Besides, with the Soviet Union backing this, the risk isn’t actually that high."
"I hope so."
The two of them leaned against each other, watching the flickering flames in the fireplace.
The cry of a night bird, shrill and distant, came from outside the window.
**************
A week later, Werner received a notice from Schmidt, telling him to go to Rostock Port to supervise the loading.
Rostock Port, on the coast of the Baltic Sea, was East Germany’s largest port.
Schmidt was already waiting on the docks. He was wearing a thick coat with a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking exhausted.
"The goods are all there." He pointed to several containers on the dock. "Disguised as tractor parts. The bills of lading are all ready."
Werner walked closer for a look. The containers were unremarkable, with "Agricultural Machinery Parts" written on them in Russian and English.
"What’s inside?"
"Two thousand AK-47s, five hundred RPG-7s, one hundred 82mm mortars, and the corresponding ammunition," Schmidt said in a low voice. "They’re all broken down and packaged, mixed in with tractor components. You wouldn’t know unless you opened them up and took a close look."
"Will customs check?"
"They won’t." Schmidt stubbed out his cigarette. "Our people have already made arrangements with customs in Poland and Congo. The freighter will stop in Gdansk to refuel, then head straight for Matadi."
Werner looked at the containers, a sudden sense of unreality washing over him.
’These boxes contain weapons that can kill tens of thousands of people. And I’m helping them get to a battlefield.’
"What’s wrong?" Schmidt noticed his expression.
"Nothing." Werner shook his head. "It’s just my first time seeing something like this."
"You’ll get used to it." Schmidt patted his shoulder. "Do this job long enough, and you get numb to it."
On the docks, workers were using cranes to load the containers onto a freighter. The ship was large, flying the flag of Liberia. The captain, a Greek man, was negotiating with the port authorities.
"Does he know what’s inside?" Werner asked.
"He knows," Schmidt said. "But he doesn’t care. We paid him double the shipping fee. All he has to do is get the cargo delivered."
"If they get intercepted on the high seas—"
"That’s his problem." Schmidt shrugged. "It’s written clearly in the contract. Once the cargo leaves East German territorial waters, the shipping company assumes all risk."
Werner understood. Another firewall.
If something went wrong, East Germany could claim they had merely chartered a third-country freighter and that the cargo belonged to a private arms dealer, having nothing to do with the government.
Layers of cover, with a fallback for every step.
The loading process took three hours. By the time the last container was onboard, it was already evening.
Schmidt and Werner stood on the dock, watching the freighter slowly pull away.
"Now we just have to see what happens on the Congo side," Schmidt said. "After the cargo arrives at Matadi Port, our people will confirm receipt, and then we wait for the final payment."
"How long will that take?"
"Two weeks." Schmidt lit a cigarette. "If things go smoothly."
"And if they don’t?"
Schmidt glanced at him but didn’t say anything.
The two of them silently watched the freighter disappear over the horizon.
The setting sun stained the Baltic Sea blood-red.
****************
The next two weeks were agonizing.
Werner waited for news every day.
He went to work at Koko as usual, handling other procurement tasks, but his mind was entirely on the Congo deal.
Gunter never mentioned the matter again, as if the shipment had never existed.
But Werner knew everyone was waiting.
Waiting for the cargo to arrive safely.
Waiting for the final payment to come through.
Waiting for the deal to be completed successfully.
On the evening of the tenth day, Werner met Anna at the suburban villa.
"Any news?" she asked.
"Not yet." Werner shook his head. "Based on the voyage time, the freighter should have already reached Matadi Port. But we haven’t received confirmation."
"No news from Von Brown’s side either," Anna said. "The Stasi are monitoring the whole process, but everything is normal so far."
"I have a bad feeling." Werner walked to the window. "A deal this big can’t possibly go off without a single problem."
"Don’t scare yourself." Anna came over and hugged him. "Schmidt and Gunter are veterans. They know how to handle things."
"But what if—"
"There is no ’what if’," Anna cut him off. "Werner, you’ve done what you were supposed to do. The rest is out of your hands."
She was right.
But Werner still couldn’t sleep well.
Every night, lying in bed, he would imagine all the scenarios that could go wrong.
The freighter getting hijacked by pirates.
The customs officials at Matadi Port suddenly turning on them.
The Congolese government forces taking the goods and refusing to pay.
Western intelligence agencies tracing the origin of the weapons.
Every possibility made him break out in a cold sweat.
On the morning of the fourteenth day, the phone finally rang.
"Werner, come to my office." Gunter’s voice was devoid of emotion.
Werner hung up the phone, his palms drenched in sweat.
*************
In Gunter’s office, Schmidt and Weber were already present.
The expressions on all three men’s faces were grim.
Werner’s heart sank. "Did something happen?"
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