I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 242: Chapter 25: If There’s No Gold Mine, Create One

’If I can manipulate legitimate trade, why not just create some "trade" of my own?’

For example, an East German factory "urgently needed" high-tech equipment from West Germany—precision machine tools, electronic instruments, chemical catalysts. These items were under export control in the West and were prohibitively expensive.

Werner could initiate a purchase in Koko’s name, using the internal German trade channels and the credit line.

The books would quote a price of 200,000 accounting units, deducted from the credit line.

But in reality, Reynard could buy it on the Western market for only 80,000 West German Marks.

He could even lower the specs of the shipment, or reduce the quantity slightly. As long as the goods ultimately delivered to the East German factory looked the part, it would be fine.

And the extra 120,000 accounting units? They would be converted into West German Marks and deposited into his secret account in West Berlin.

But that was also where the risk lay.

If he were discovered, this wasn’t just an economic crime—it was treason.

The key was twofold: First, Reynard had to be reliable. Second, he needed someone on the West German side to turn a blind eye.

Werner took a deep breath. He had already made his decision.

The Berlin Wall was up. The countdown for the country of East Germany had begun.

In just over twenty years, this system would collapse.

When that happened, he needed to have enough funds to start over in the Western world.

Relying on his normal salary from Koko and the small cut Gunter gave him was nowhere near enough.

He needed a much larger sum of money, large enough to allow him to live a decent life in West Germany, or even further afield.

And internal German trade was his gold mine.

* * *

The People’s Textile United Enterprise was located on the outskirts of Leipzig, a collection of drab, gray factory buildings with smokestacks belching black smoke.

When Werner walked into the factory manager’s office, a bald, fat man was sitting behind the desk, gnawing on a sausage.

"You’re the one from Koko?" The factory manager’s name was Fritz. He was in his fifties, with a belly so big he looked pregnant, and spoke with a thick Saxon accent.

"Werner Betelich." Werner extended his hand.

Fritz’s greasy hand clasped his. The grip was strong, and his eyes sized Werner up. "So young? What does Gunter want, sending you here?"

"To coordinate your factory’s export business," Werner said bluntly. "I hear you have a shipment of textiles to export to West Germany every month?"

Fritz wiped the grease from his mouth and nodded. "That’s right. Fabric, finished clothing, all produced according to the plan. But these past few years, the West Germans have been getting more and more demanding, saying our quality isn’t good enough."

He started complaining, "Quality? We use the best raw materials, the workers are on three shifts around the clock. What more can we do? The West Germans are just being deliberately difficult."

"I’m here to solve that problem," Werner said. "From now on, I’ll be coordinating the export pricing and quality control."

Fritz looked at him suspiciously. "You can handle it?"

"I have channels in West Germany," Werner said. "But I need to know your actual cost price."

Fritz hesitated.

Werner took out a pack of West German cigarettes and pushed it across the desk.

Fritz’s eyes lit up.

He reached for it, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. He took a deep drag, a look of pure enjoyment spreading across his face.

"The cost price..." Fritz blew out a cloud of smoke. "The fabric is about 0.8 accounting units per meter. Finished clothing is 2 to 3 accounting units per piece, depending on the style."

Werner jotted it down in his notebook, his mind racing with calculations.

The price Gunter had given him was 1.5 accounting units per meter for fabric and 5 accounting units per piece for finished clothing. The difference was nearly double.

"So how much can you produce in a month?" Werner asked.

"One hundred thousand meters of fabric, twenty thousand pieces of clothing," Fritz said. "But it all has to stick to the plan. No funny business."

Werner calculated quickly in his notebook.

One hundred thousand meters of fabric at a cost of 0.8 accounting units is a total cost of 80,000. If priced at 1.5 accounting units as Gunter said, the book value is 150,000. The difference is 70,000 accounting units.

Twenty thousand pieces of clothing at an average cost of 2.5 accounting units is a total cost of 50,000. Priced at 5 accounting units, the book value is 100,000. The difference is 50,000.

Added together, the monthly difference was 120,000 accounting units.

And those 120,000 accounting units, according to the game Gunter taught him, could be deposited by the West German buyer into a designated account in the form of West German Marks.

120,000 West German Marks.

"Well?" Fritz watched him. "Any problems?"

"No problem," Werner said, closing his notebook and looking up. "Very good. Just stick to the production plan. I’ll arrange the exports."

Fritz nodded. "Alright, then. We’ll be in touch."

Werner stood up and shook Fritz’s hand.

When he walked out of the factory, the sky outside was overcast, and the smokestacks were still belching black smoke.

Werner lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

Gunter had said they’d split it fifty-fifty.

But Werner was thinking about something else.

’If I find the West German buyer myself and arrange the pricing myself, Gunter won’t necessarily know what the real difference is.’

’Or I could add another layer to the books. The price I show Gunter would be one number, while the actual price for the West German buyer would be another.’

’The space in between would be mine.’

’I need to be more careful, more prepared.’

’But the path is already laid out before me.’

* * *

It was already eight in the evening when Werner returned to East Berlin from Leipzig.

Instead of going back to his apartment, Werner went straight to his and Anna’s secret rendezvous point—a small villa on the outskirts of the city.

He used his key to open the door. The house was pitch black inside.

Werner turned on the lights, walked to the living room, and poured himself a glass of vodka.

Outside the window was a field shrouded in darkness, with the occasional flash of car headlights in the distance.

He stood by the window, sipping his drink, mentally running through his plan over and over.

Around ten o’clock, the sound of a car engine came from outside.

Soon, Anna pushed the door open and came in. She was still wearing the black suit from work, a weary look on her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, taking off her jacket and walking over to him.

"I need to talk to you," Werner said. "Something very important."

Anna glanced at him, then walked to the sofa and sat down. "Go on."

Werner sat down across from her, silent for a few seconds before speaking. "I need you to do me a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"I need you to help me contact someone in the West German intelligence services."

The expression on Anna’s face froze instantly.

She stared at Werner, her gaze turning sharp. "What are you talking about?"

Werner did not avoid her gaze. "I need to establish contact with the West German Federal Intelligence Agency."

"Why?" Anna’s voice was low, but the tension in it was audible.

Werner explained the whole scheme Gunter had taught him about internal German trade: inflating prices, converting accounting units to hard currency, and the arbitrage opportunities within the credit line.

Then he told her his own plan.

"I don’t want to just manipulate legitimate trade to make a little money," Werner said, looking into Anna’s eyes. "I want to go bigger."

"How much bigger?" Anna asked.

"For example, I could use Koko’s name to procure high-tech equipment from West Germany for a factory in East Germany," Werner said. "The books would show a price of 200,000 accounting units, deducted from the credit line. But in reality, Reynard could probably buy it on the Western market for only 80,000 West German Marks."

"And the difference?"

"Gets converted into West German Marks and deposited into my account in West Berlin," Werner said. "After a few operations like that, I’ll have accumulated a large enough fund."

Anna listened without a word, her expression growing darker and darker.

"You’re insane," she finally said. "Do you have any idea what you’re saying? This isn’t just embezzlement, it’s treason. You’re directly appropriating the state’s credit line for yourself."

"I know," Werner said calmly.

"Then why? You’re doing well at Koko right now. Gunter values you, Von Brown trusts you, and if you just follow his method, you can make plenty of money. Why take such a huge risk?"

"Because it’s not enough." Werner also stood up and walked over to her. "Following Gunter’s method, I can make a few tens of thousands of West German Marks a year at most. But I don’t need tens of thousands. I need hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions."

"Why do you need so much?"

"Because this country isn’t going to last." Werner stared at her. "How long do you think a system like this can hold on? Ten years? Twenty?"

His voice grew low. "This country is doomed, sooner or later. When that happens, I need to be able to leave. I need enough capital to start over in the West. Not just scraping by, but a truly decent life."

Anna bit her lip, her expression complex.

"And—" Werner’s voice softened. "I want to take you with me."

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