Chapter 257: Chapter 40: Koko’s New Favorite
"I know." Werner took a sip of his whiskey. "Now I need you to do something for me."
"Go on."
"I need a detailed investigation report proving that this batch of chemicals is completely unobtainable in West Germany," Werner said. "It needs to include the embargo articles from the Paris Coordinating Committee, West Germany’s customs enforcement policies, and professional opinions from chemical engineers. The report must be irrefutable—something no one can question."
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
"You want to use this report to prove your innocence?"
"Correct," Werner said. "I’ll submit it to the Koko higher-ups to prove that it’s not that I don’t want to do this deal, but that it’s objectively impossible."
"Smart." Margaret nodded. "But this will take time and resources. I’ll have to contact a few experts, get copies of official documents, and ensure the authenticity of all the information."
"How long will it take?"
"Three days."
"That’s enough," Werner said. "How much will it cost?"
"Five thousand West German Marks," Margaret said. "That includes expert consultation fees and document costs."
"Done."
Margaret smiled and raised her glass, clinking it against his.
"You know, Werner, I’m starting to admire you more and more," she said. "Most people in this situation would either panic or just charge in headfirst. But you’re different. You’re calm, and you’re ruthless."
"Where I’m from, you don’t survive if you’re not calm," Werner said.
"Don’t be so modest." Margaret stood up, walked to the window, and lit a cigarette. "But you need to be careful."
"I know." Werner also stood up and walked to her side. "That’s why I need you to keep an eye on things here in West Germany. If you hear any whispers about me, let me know immediately."
"No problem." Margaret turned to look at him. "But that’s going to cost extra."
Werner laughed. "You really are a businesswoman."
"Takes one to know one."
The two of them clinked glasses and drank them down in one go.
***************
Three days later, Werner received the complete investigation report prepared by Margaret.
The report was twenty pages thick. It included photocopies of the Paris Coordinating Committee’s embargo articles, an explanation of West German customs control policies, professional opinion letters from three chemical engineers, and proof of export refusal from several West German chemical companies.
Every document bore an official seal and signature. It was irrefutable.
Werner put the report in his briefcase, returned to East Berlin, and went straight to the Koko Building.
Fisher was waiting for him in his office.
"Werner, how did it go?" Fisher asked. "Were you able to get that batch of chemicals? The higher-ups are pushing hard for it."
Werner placed the report on his desk.
"I’m afraid not, Director," he said. "This shipment is unobtainable."
Fisher’s expression changed.
"Why?"
"These two chemicals are strictly controlled in the West and are on the Paris Coordinating Committee’s embargo list," Werner said. "I contacted all my channels in West Germany, including middlemen in Switzerland and Austria. No one dares to touch this shipment."
He opened the report and pointed to a page.
"This is West Germany’s customs enforcement policy. Any attempt to export these two chemicals to the Eastern Faction will trigger an immediate investigation."
Fisher stared at the report, his brow furrowed.
"Then what about the applicant? They said they need these raw materials urgently."
"The applicant’s request is problematic in itself," Werner said. "According to the chemical engineers, there are safer and cheaper alternatives if they’re just producing plastic additives. There’s no reason to insist on using these two high-risk, controlled chemicals."
Fisher was silent for a moment, then looked up.
"Are you saying this request was unreasonable from the start?"
"Correct." Werner looked at him. "I suspect the applicant either doesn’t understand the chemical process, or someone intentionally made an impossible request."
The color drained further from Fisher’s face.
He of course understood the meaning behind Werner’s words—this could be a trap.
"I will submit this report to Director Gunter," Fisher said. "Good work, Werner."
"It’s my duty."
Werner left the office, walked into the hallway, and took a deep breath.
He knew this game wasn’t over yet. But for now, at least, he had secured his footing.
************
「June 15, 1965. East Berlin, Koko Headquarters, Sixth-Floor Conference Room.」
Werner stood beside the conference table, looking at the letter of appointment spread out on it.
The bright red seal was striking against the white paper. The text read: "Deputy Director of the Bureau of Commercial Coordination, in charge of the Special Trade Department and the Political Prisoner Exchange Department."
Gunter sat in the head seat, a cigar between his fingers, a broad smile on his face.
"Congratulations, Werner," he said. "Making it to Deputy Director before you’re thirty... you’re the youngest executive in Koko’s history."
Several other department heads were also seated in the conference room.
Some were clapping, others were expressionless, and a few had looks of jealousy in their eyes. Werner saw it all.
"Thank you for your trust, Director Gunter," Werner said calmly. "I will do my utmost to complete my tasks."
"Good." Gunter flicked the ash from his cigar. "Because the next task won’t be easy."
He motioned for his secretary to distribute the documents.
"These are the foreign exchange targets for the second half of the year," Gunter said. "The higher-ups are demanding that Koko generate at least fifty million West German Marks in foreign exchange revenue for the entire year, a 50% increase from last year. Werner, your two departments will be responsible for twenty-five million of that."
A sharp intake of breath could be heard around the conference room.
Twenty-five million West German Marks. It was an astronomical figure. Last year, all of Koko had only earned thirty-three million, and now they wanted Werner’s departments to handle a full twenty-five million?
Werner picked up the document, glanced quickly at the numbers, and then looked up.
"Six months?"
"Correct." Gunter stared at him. "From July to December. Six months. Can you do it?"
Everyone in the conference room was watching Werner. Some were waiting for him to back down, others to see him make a fool of himself.
Werner put the document down and looked Gunter in the eye.
"Yes."
Gunter smiled.
"Excellent," he said. "Then I’ll be waiting to see your performance."
****************
After the meeting, Werner returned to his new office—the largest one on the fifth floor, with a window directly overlooking Alexanderplatz.
He closed the door, lit a cigarette, and stood by the window, looking out at the city.
Twenty-five million West German Marks. Six months.
’This wasn’t a test; it was exploitation.’
Werner knew very well that Gunter hadn’t promoted him out of admiration, but because he was useful. In this system, you lived if you were useful, and you died if you weren’t.
He stubbed out his cigarette, walked to his desk, and picked up the phone.
"Have all the section chiefs from the Special Trade Department and the Political Prisoner Exchange Department come to my office for a meeting in half an hour."
**************
Half an hour later, seven people crowded into Werner’s office.
There were veteran section chiefs with graying hair who looked at Werner like he was some overconfident kid who didn’t know his place. There were middle-aged mainstays with cautious expressions, waiting to see what their new boss was like. And there were younger ones, their eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation.
Werner wasted no time on pleasantries.
"Sit." He pointed to the chairs. "We don’t have time for formalities."
He tossed the foreign exchange target document onto the desk.
"Twenty-five million West German Marks, six months." He scanned the room. "Anyone who thinks they can’t do it can leave right now. I have no use for dead weight."
No one moved.
"Good." Werner wrote a few numbers on the blackboard. "I’m splitting up the target. The Political Prisoner Exchange Department: ten million. The Special Trade Department: fifteen million."
The head of the Special Trade Department, Werner’s former superior, Otto, frowned.
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