Chapter 263: Chapter 46: The Coming Storm
"Are you saying...?"
"Moscow won’t allow the Czech Republic to go too far. In a year, at most, Soviet tanks will roll into Prague. When that happens, all the reformists will either end up in prison or flee to West Germany. And I—" He paused. "Before they run, I’ll give their names to West Germany’s intelligence services. For every person I help get out, I’ll earn a bit of political capital in West Germany."
Anna was silent for a long time.
The firewood in the fireplace crackled, the flames dancing across her face.
Finally, she leaned against his shoulder, her voice softening. "I’m worried you’re in too deep. The Czech Republic isn’t like East Germany. Every step you take there is dangerous. What if Moscow acts sooner than expected? What if the reformists expose you—"
"That won’t happen." Werner wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I’m very careful. Besides, I’ve already prepared an exit strategy."
"What exit strategy?"
"A Swiss account, property in Austria, and a promise of protection from West Germany’s BND," Werner said. "The moment the situation in Prague turns, I’ll pull out all my assets. Then, neither East Germany nor the Soviet Union will have anything on me."
Anna didn’t say anything more.
The two of them nestled together quietly before the fireplace for a long time, neither speaking another word.
*************
In May 1967, Von Brown suddenly summoned Werner to Stasi Headquarters.
This time, it wasn’t in Von Brown’s office, but in a conference room on a higher floor.
The room was large, with a portrait of Ublis hanging on the wall. Around a long table sat several high-ranking officials Werner had never seen before.
Von Brown sat at the head of the table, his expression grim.
"Sit." He pointed to an empty chair.
Werner sat down, glancing at the others present.
They were all veteran officials, over fifty, their uniforms adorned with various medals. Their gazes were cold and scrutinizing.
"Comrade Werner," Von Brown began, "we called you here today to hear your latest assessment of the situation in the Czech Republic."
Werner tensed, but he remained outwardly calm.
"The reformists in the Czech Republic have strong momentum. Dubcek’s support within the party continues to rise, and it’s expected he’ll take over as First Secretary before the end of the year. The core demands of the reformists are economic liberalization and political relaxation, but they claim they will remain within the socialist framework."
"And you believe them?" a veteran official suddenly interjected, his tone clearly skeptical.
"I don’t," Werner said without hesitation. "Once the reforms begin, they’ll snowball. Dubcek won’t be able to control the situation. In the end, the Czech Republic will spiral out of control."
"And the timing?" Von Brown asked. "When do you predict it will spiral out of control?"
"The first half of 1968," Werner said. "Spring or summer. Moscow will definitely intervene by then."
The conference room fell silent.
A few of the veteran officials exchanged glances, then one of them said, "If Moscow intervenes, how should we coordinate?"
Werner realized this wasn’t just a simple briefing.
The Stasi was preparing for a future operation, and they wanted his advice.
"Gather a list of people who support the reforms ahead of time," Werner said. "Especially the intellectuals, journalists, and student leaders with ties to West Germany. When Moscow makes its move, we can assist the Czech authorities with the purge." He paused. "Additionally, I suggest we increase surveillance on intellectuals within East Germany. The Czech reformist ideas could spread here."
Von Brown nodded with satisfaction. "Very good. The task of compiling this list is yours. You have channels in Prague, which will make it easier to gather intelligence."
Werner’s heart skipped a beat.
This was exactly what he wanted: a legitimate reason to make contact with more Czech reformists and gather their information, all under an official pretext.
Only, he wasn’t compiling this list for the Stasi. He was doing it for West Germany’s BND.
"I understand," Werner said. "I’ll get it done as soon as possible."
After the meeting, Von Brown asked Werner to stay behind.
"Good work." Von Brown lit a cigarette and handed one to Werner. "The higher-ups are very satisfied with your work in the Czech Republic."
"Just doing my job." Werner accepted the cigarette and lit it.
"But there’s something I need to warn you about." Von Brown’s tone suddenly grew cold. "Someone reported to me about your activities in Prague. They say you’ve gotten too close to the reformists."
Werner’s hand froze in mid-air, but he quickly composed himself. "You mean...?"
"Jaroslav Novak, and that economist Peter Coleman." Von Brown stared at him. "You give them books, equipment, and you even fund their research projects. That doesn’t look like gathering intelligence. It looks more like supporting them."
"Comrade Von Brown, you’ve misunderstood," Werner said unhurriedly. "To gather intelligence, you first have to win their trust. I give them things to make them lower their guard, to make them see me as one of their own. Only then can I get access to more critical information."
Von Brown was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. "I hope that’s the case. But I’ll warn you again, Werner—don’t play with fire. The reformists are going to be purged. If you’re too close to them, you could easily get caught in the crossfire."
"I understand," Werner said. "I’ll keep my distance."
Von Brown patted his shoulder. "Go on. Keep up the good work."
Werner walked out of Stasi Headquarters and took a deep breath.
He knew he was walking a tightrope. On one hand, he had to convince the Stasi he was gathering intelligence. On the other, he had to make the reformists believe he was a supporter. And all the while, he had to prove his value to West Germany’s BND.
But this was his way of life: surviving between the cracks, profiting from the chaos.
**************
In July 1967, Werner met his BND contact, Werner, in a hotel room in West Berlin.
Werner looked as shrewd and capable as ever, getting straight to the point the moment he walked in: "We’ve received your report. It’s very valuable."
"That’s just a preliminary report," Werner said. "By the end of the year, I can give you a more complete one."
"Excellent." Werner nodded. "The Federal Government is very pleased with your work. As a reward, we’ve already opened a second secret account for you in Zurich. In addition, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs is preparing a ’special citizen’ identity document for you—"
"What does that mean?"
"It means that if the situation in East Germany becomes unstable, you can use this document to enter West Germany and enjoy the rights of a citizen," Werner said. "Of course, we can’t give you the document now, but it’s already been filed. When the time is right, you can collect it."
This was what Werner wanted—a true escape ticket.
"One more thing." Werner lowered his voice. "The top brass at the Federal Intelligence Agency want to see you. In person."
"When?"
"Next month. Munich," Werner said. "They want to talk to you about the Czech situation, and your business with Koko. Don’t worry, it’ll be completely secure."
Werner considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."
************
The night he returned to East Berlin, Werner went to the small villa again.
Anna hadn’t arrived yet.
Werner poured himself a drink, sat on the sofa, and stared blankly at the dancing flames in the fireplace.
He thought of Jaroslav’s passionate eyes, of Peter’s silhouette hunched over his desk, of the young people on the streets of Prague discussing freedom.
They all believed the reforms would succeed, that socialism could have a human face, that tomorrow would be better.
But Werner knew the truth.
He knew that a year from now, Soviet tanks would crush their dreams, that those hopeful faces would turn to fear and despair, that Jaroslav and Peter would very likely die in prison or be exiled abroad.
And he, Werner, would sell their names to West Germany before that, in exchange for his own future.
The door opened, and Anna walked in.
She took off her damp trench coat and sat down beside Werner.
"What’s wrong? You look troubled."
"It’s nothing," Werner said. "I just suddenly felt that what we’re doing is so fucking dirty."
Anna glanced at him, then laughed. "Only just figured that out? It’s too late."
Werner laughed too.
He raised his glass. "Here’s to us filthy people."
Anna clinked her glass against his. "To survival."
They both drained their glasses.
Outside the window, the night was deep and endless.
**************
In October 1967, autumn came especially early to Prague.
Werner stood on the bank of the Vltava River, looking across at the bustling crowd on the Charles Bridge.
Mira Kovac stood next to him, a cigar dangling from her lips. The forty-something black marketeer squinted at the river.
"You want to liquidate your stock?" Mira’s tone was filled with disbelief. "Now? When business is booming?"
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