I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

"What does she want?"

"Money. Power. And respect." Reynard paused. "She's a woman who has fought her way to her current position in a man's world. You can't imagine the hardships she's endured. That's why she has zero tolerance for bullshit and utterly despises hypocrisy."

"Sounds interesting."

"Werner, I'm not joking." Reynard's voice grew serious. "Margaret will either become your most powerful ally, or she'll feed your secrets to the people who ought to know. There is no middle ground."

The taxi stopped in front of a six-story building.

It was an old, pre-war building with a cream-colored facade, large windows, and geraniums growing on the balconies.

The ground floor housed a café called "Vienna House," with wicker chairs and small round tables set up by the entrance.

Werner paid the fare and pushed the door open.

The aroma of coffee and pastries filled the café.

The proprietress behind the counter was polishing the coffee machine. Music drifted from a radio, a singer crooning a syrupy love song. A few middle-aged men in suits sat in a corner, talking in low voices with leather folders on their table.

Werner spotted her immediately.

Margaret Schneider was sitting by the window, a cup of black coffee and a copy of the World Newspaper before her.

She wore a well-tailored, dark blue suit with a crisp shoulder line. Her golden hair was swept back into a low chignon, revealing a long neck and a sharp jawline. She wore no jewelry, save for a simple silver ring on her left ring finger.

She was reading the business section of the paper, an unlit cigarette held between her fingers.

Werner walked over.

"Mrs. Schneider?"

She looked up, sizing Werner up for a few seconds, her gaze finally resting on his briefcase.

"Sit."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was piercing.

Werner pulled out a chair and sat down.

A waiter came over, and he ordered an espresso.

Margaret folded the newspaper, set it aside, and pulled a cigarette from her case before looking at Werner.

"Do you know how to light a cigarette for a lady?"

Werner froze for a second, then immediately took out his lighter.

Margaret leaned forward slightly. As the flame touched the tip of her cigarette, she took a deep drag and slowly exhaled the smoke.

"Good." She leaned back in her chair. "Reynard told me you were an interesting man. I don't have much faith in his judgment—he's always too optimistic about people. So I decided to see for myself."

"And now?" Werner asked.

"Now?" Margaret flicked her ash. "Now I see a well-dressed, well-mannered young man. But that doesn't mean anything. West Berlin is full of crooks in suits."

Werner smiled. "Then what would you like to see?"

"Honesty." Margaret stared at him. "I want to know what you really want from me."

The waiter brought his coffee. Werner took a sip. It was bitter, but the aroma was rich. He set the cup down and looked at Margaret.

"I need a partner in West Germany who can hold their own."

"Isn't Reynard qualified?"

"Reynard is a good businessman, but his reach is limited." Werner paused. "My business is expanding, and the fields it touches are getting more complex—import-export, technical equipment, special materials, and even some political matters. I need someone in West Germany to coordinate relationships and handle the kind of trouble Reynard can't."

"Political matters?" Margaret raised an eyebrow. "You mean... those poor bastards coming over from the East?"

"That's part of it."

"Interesting." She exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Go on."

"I hear you hold a position in the West Berlin Chamber of Commerce and have extensive resources in the import-export sector," Werner said. "More importantly, you have a knack for handling things that can't be done above board."

"Are you complimenting me or testing me?"

"Both."

Margaret laughed.

"At least you're honest." She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. "So, Mr. Werner, what can you offer me?"

"Money. A stable, significant commission," Werner said. "My monthly transaction volume exceeds five hundred thousand West German Marks, and it's still growing. If we work together, you'll get a 10% commission."

"Ten percent?" Margaret leaned forward, lacing her fingers on the table. "You're quite generous. But Mr. Werner, I need to know what I'm risking my neck for."

"What do you want to know?"

"Every detail. I won't be kept in the dark. If we're going to partner up, you must be completely transparent with me—the source of the goods, the transaction process, the flow of funds, even your network of contacts in the East. I need to know who I'm dealing with, how great the risk is, and if something goes wrong, how I get out."

Werner was silent for a few seconds.

"Agreed," he said. "But I have conditions of my own."

"Speak."

"Our partnership must be highly confidential. No third party can know, including your current partners." Werner paused. "Furthermore, some deals will involve sensitive people and matters. If you feel the risk is too great, you can back out at any time, but you cannot leak any information."

Margaret stared at him for a long time. The music in the café changed to a slow waltz, its melody sentimental and melancholic.

"You know, Mr. Werner," she finally began, "I've been in this line of work for fifteen years. I've seen all sorts of people—smugglers, spies, politicians, con artists. Most of them like to act like they're invincible, but the moment trouble hits, they wash their hands of all responsibility."

She lit another cigarette.

"But occasionally, very occasionally, I meet someone with real ability. They don't boast, they don't waste words, they know what they want, and they know the price they have to pay." She exhaled a plume of smoke. "Reynard said you were one of them. I'm still observing."

"So what's your answer?"

"I'll agree to the partnership," Margaret said. "But on one condition—if you dare to lie to me, or try to use me for a fool, I will make it impossible for you to operate in West Berlin. Understand?"

"Understood."

"Good." She extended her hand. "Then here's to a successful partnership."

The two shook hands.

"Now," she released his hand and leaned back in her chair, "tell me what you've been busy with lately. I want to know what kind of challenges I'll be facing."

Werner opened his briefcase and took out a document.

"Last month, a chemical plant in East Germany needed to import a batch of precision catalysts from West Germany. The item is on the Paris Coordinating Committee's embargo list, so it can't be bought through normal channels."

"So you went through gray channels?"

"It was routed through Switzerland and Austria," Werner said. "But the problem is, transporting these goods requires special temperature-controlled equipment, and the customs documents must be flawless. Reynard doesn't have enough experience in this area."

Margaret looked through the document, her brow furrowed slightly.

"Is this plant important?"

"It's a pillar of East Germany's chemical industry," Werner said. "If they shut down production, it would affect the entire supply chain."

"So your client is in a hurry."

"Desperate."

Margaret put the document down and looked up at Werner.

"I can handle it," she said. "I have a partner in Switzerland who specializes in this type of sensitive cargo. The temperature-controlled equipment isn't an issue either—I know the owners of several transport companies who owe me favors."

"How long will it take?"

"Two weeks." She paused. "But the commission will have to be 20%. This job is too risky."

Werner thought for a moment. "Deal."

Margaret smiled.

"You're much more decisive than Reynard," she said. "He always likes to haggle."

"Time is money," Werner said. "Especially in our line of work."

"Well said." Margaret waved the waiter over. "Two more coffees and an apple strudel."

For the next two hours, the two of them discussed the details of their partnership in depth.

Werner gave a rough outline of his key channels in East Germany—his position with Koko, his connections to the Stasi, the Black Market network, and the trade in political prisoners. He didn't mention any specific names, but the information was enough for Margaret to assess the risks.

Margaret listened intently, occasionally interrupting with sharp, incisive questions.

"How reliable is your protection on the Stasi side?"

"It's solid for now."

"And if it stops being solid one day?"

"I'll pull out beforehand," Werner said. "I have a contingency plan in West Germany."

"Which includes?"

"Bank accounts, identification, and some documents that prove my value."

Margaret nodded. "Smart. You're not like those who just want to make a quick score and run."

"I'm in it for the long haul," Werner said. "This era won't last forever, but before it ends, there are too many opportunities to seize."

"You're saying the Berlin Wall will fall someday?"

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