I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 256: Chapter 39: The Trap (Part 2)

"Nine times out of ten." Werner stubbed out his cigarette. "This combination is too sensitive. If I really go to West Germany to procure this shipment, I’ll leave myself exposed whether I succeed or not."

Anna was silent for a moment.

"I can investigate that deputy director’s background," she said, "but I’ll need time. How long can you stall?"

"A week at most," Werner said. "Fisher is pressing me."

"Then we need to hurry." Anna paused. "There’s another way—don’t you have a new partner in West Germany? That woman, Margaret Schneider. Have her look into the real use for these chemicals. See if anyone on the West German side is already watching this."

"That’s what I was thinking, too," Werner said. "I’ll go to West Berlin to see her tonight."

Anna looked at him and finally nodded.

"Be careful," she said. "You’ve risen through the ranks at Koko too quickly. More than one person has their eye on your position."

"I know."

The two said no more and left the restaurant separately.

Werner returned to his car and drove straight to the post and telegraph building.

He needed to send Margaret a telegram.

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

West Berlin, Kurfurstendamm Street, Cafe Vienna House.

When Margaret received Werner’s telegram, she was in the middle of a business meeting with an importer. She glanced at the message, her expression shifted slightly, and she immediately ended the conversation.

The telegram was brief: "Urgent. Need to check West German source and use of phosphorus trichloride and phosphorus pentoxide. Reply ASAP."

Margaret returned to her office, closed the door, and lit a cigarette.

’She’d been in this business for fifteen years. There wasn’t a type of cargo she hadn’t seen.’

But the combination of phosphorus trichloride and phosphorus pentoxide immediately made her think of military applications.

’This wasn’t a good sign.’

She picked up the phone and dialed a number in Hamburg.

"Frank? It’s Margaret. I need you to check something for me."

The man on the other end was a chemical engineer in his fifties who had spent his entire life in the West German chemical industry. Margaret had worked with him a few times and knew he was well-informed.

"Phosphorus trichloride and phosphorus pentoxide?" Frank’s voice was laced with confusion. "Putting those two together... you’re either making rocket fuel or chemical weapons. What do you want with this stuff?"

"I don’t want it. Someone is trying to import it from West Germany," Margaret said. "What are the chances it’s for civilian use?"

"Almost zero." Frank was blunt. "If it’s just for plastic additives, there are cheaper, safer alternatives. No legitimate chemical plant would choose this combination."

"Understood." Margaret hung up.

She made a few more calls, asking friends with connections in West German customs and export control. The answer was always the same—these chemicals were definitely on a watch list. Any attempt to export them to the Eastern Faction would be closely monitored.

Margaret sat in her chair, a cigarette between her fingers, her mind racing.

’Werner’s in trouble. Someone is trying to use this shipment to drag him down.’

She picked up the phone and dialed Werner’s contact number in East Berlin. It was a public phone booth, manned every day from four to five in the afternoon.

The phone rang three times before it was answered.

"This is Margaret," she said. "Tell Werner the shipment is trouble. Big trouble. Tell him to stop immediately."

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

Two days later, Werner returned to the small restaurant in the Prenzlauer Berg District.

Anna had arrived even earlier this time, and the look on her face was even more grim than before.

"I found it." She pushed a file toward him. "That deputy director, Friedrich Walter, was just transferred from the State Planning Commission to the Leipzig Chemical Plant last year. While Walter was with the commission, he was responsible for reviewing Koko’s procurement reports. He questioned the commission amounts on several of your large deals last year, but Fisher shut him down."

"So he holds a grudge?"

"More than that." Anna opened the file and pointed to a record. "Walter is very close with another Koko deputy director, Hannas Quist. You remember Quist, don’t you?"

Of course Werner remembered.

Quist was the senior deputy director he had taken down last year, expelled from Koko for corruption.

"Revenge, it seems." Werner gave a cold smile. "But their methods are so clumsy."

"Clumsy, but effective," Anna said. "If you had actually taken this deal, you would’ve been labeled a ’military equipment smuggler’ whether you succeeded or not. Then, all it would take is a little push from someone, and you’d be finished."

Werner lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

"I heard from Margaret, too," he said. "She checked the channels in West Germany and confirmed it’s impossible for these chemicals to be for civilian use. Any attempt to export them would be flagged by West German customs."

"So it’s a no-win situation," Anna said. "You’re in trouble whether you take the deal or not. If you take it, you’re smuggling military supplies. If you don’t, you’re disobeying a superior’s order."

Werner was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

"No," he said. "It’s not a no-win situation. They were too hasty."

"What do you mean?"

"If they really wanted to finish me, they should have used a more subtle method." Werner flicked his ash. "But this time, they used a formal application form and even went through Fisher’s approval process. This shows they want this to look legitimate and proper, so I’ll have no way to defend myself."

"So?"

"So I’ll let it fail, legitimately and properly," Werner said. "I’ll tell Fisher that I contacted channels in West Germany, but the chemicals are too strictly controlled and impossible to procure. I will provide all the evidence from my investigation—including West German customs surveillance records, the Paris Coordinating Committee’s embargo clauses, and even the professional opinion from Margaret’s chemical engineer."

"You want to prove that it’s not that you don’t want to do it, but that the deal itself is impossible."

"Exactly," Werner said. "I will shift all responsibility back to the applicants—they’re the ones who made an unrealistic request, not me being incompetent."

Anna looked at him, then suddenly reached out and took his hand.

"Werner, you’ve risen through Koko too quickly," she said softly. "You’re a deputy director now, with purchasing power over millions of West German Marks. Too many people are watching a position like that."

"I know." Werner squeezed her hand back. "But I can’t stop. If I stop, I’m dead."

Anna was silent for a moment, then finally nodded.

"Then be careful," she said. "I’ll do my best to help you keep an eye on any movements from the Stasi."

"Thank you."

The two of them sat for a little while longer before leaving separately.

Werner returned to his car, started the engine, and drove toward West Berlin. He needed to meet Margaret in person and organize all the evidence.

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

Checkpoint Charlie, 8:00 PM.

Werner’s sedan stopped in front of the guard booth on the East German side.

The Border Guard on duty glanced at his pass, gave a salute, and waved him through.

The car passed through the gray wall and entered West Berlin.

The Cafe Vienna House was already closed for the night, but a light was still on upstairs. Werner rang the doorbell, and Margaret came down to open it.

"Come up," she said.

The second floor was Margaret’s private office, furnished with clean efficiency. A large desk, a few file cabinets, and a map of West Berlin hanging on the wall. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses sat on the desk.

Margaret poured them each a glass of whiskey.

"Your intuition was spot on," she said. "Those chemicals really were a trap."

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