I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 264: Chapter 47: The Coming Storm (Part 2)

"Correct." Werner didn’t turn his head. "I’m selling off everything I have in Prague—all my shares, properties, and Crown deposits. Take as much as you can handle. For what you can’t, help me find buyers."

Mira exhaled a puff of smoke, which the autumn wind quickly scattered.

"Are you crazy? The Czech Republic is the most open market in Eastern Europe right now. Novak and his band of reformers are about to take power; business is only going to get better—"

"It’s precisely because they’re about to take power that I’m getting out," Werner cut in.

Mira froze for a moment, then turned to study Werner carefully. "What do you know?"

"You don’t need to know what I know." Werner pulled an envelope from his pocket. "This is a list of all the assets. I’ll give you two months to take care of it. The price can be discounted by twenty percent, but payment must be in West German Marks or gold. No Crowns."

Mira took the envelope, weighed it in his hand, but didn’t open it.

He was silent for a long time before finally speaking. "Werner, we’ve worked together for a long time, and I never ask too many questions. But this time I have to ask—is something about to happen in the Czech Republic?"

Werner gazed at the surface of the river, saying calmly, "Mira, you’re a smart man. Smart men don’t ask questions they shouldn’t."

Mira grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth. "Fine, I get it. Two months, twenty percent off, West German Marks."

He clapped Werner on the shoulder. "But I have to say it—you’re the most ruthless son of a bitch I’ve ever met."

Werner didn’t respond.

He just continued to watch the river, watching the people, oblivious to their future, strolling leisurely in the autumn sunshine.

Ten months from now, Soviet tanks would roll across this very bridge.

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

The rain fell endlessly in East Berlin that November.

Werner sat in his office at Koko Headquarters, a thick stack of financial reports spread out before him.

He had an even more troublesome task to attend to—liquidating the Crowns in his Czech accounts.

On the surface, this money was legitimate income from the Koko Group’s trade in the Czech Republic.

In reality, however, a third of it was Werner’s personal capital, funneled into the company accounts through various channels. Once trouble started in the Czech Republic, these Crowns would instantly become worthless paper.

Werner picked up the phone and dialed a number in Zurich.

"This is Klein," a deep voice answered, accompanied by the CLACK-CLACK of a typewriter in the background.

"It’s me," Werner said. "Is that batch of mechanical equipment ready?"

"It’s ready. It can ship from Prague next week, destination Vienna," Klein said. "But Werner, this shipment is a bit bulky. I’ve prepared three sets of customs documents for it, to be sent through separate channels—"

"How much?"

"Twenty thousand West German Marks."

"Done," Werner said without hesitation. "The money will be in your account within two days of the shipment’s arrival."

After hanging up, Werner crossed a line out of his notebook.

The so-called "mechanical equipment" was actually fifty kilograms of gold, hidden inside disassembled printing press parts.

This was the last of the hard currency he had accumulated in Prague.

The rain outside grew heavier.

Werner lit a cigarette, watching the rain beat against the glass, and recalled his first visit to Prague three years ago.

Back then, the Czech Republic was still under Novotny’s iron-fisted rule, and black market business was difficult.

Things were different now.

The reformers were about to take power, and the entire Czech Republic was dreaming—dreaming of freedom, openness, and a beautiful tomorrow.

But Werner knew this dream would soon be crushed by tanks.

He flicked the ash from his cigarette, picked up the phone, and dialed another number.

***********

The snow fell heavily in Munich that December.

Werner sat in a suite at a luxury hotel, facing Schroeder, the Deputy Director of the West German Federal Intelligence Agency—a man in his fifties with impeccably combed hair and gold-rimmed glasses.

"I’ve read your report." Schroeder pushed a file back across the table toward Werner. "It’s very detailed. Novotny’s approval ratings, Dubcek’s influence within the party—" He paused. "How did you get this information?"

"I have my channels," Werner said.

"What channels?" Schroeder stared at him. "Even the CIA’s intelligence network in Prague isn’t this detailed."

Werner leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. "Mr. Schroeder, we’ve been working together for a long time. You should understand the principle by now—intelligence sources are not to be disclosed."

Schroeder was silent for a few seconds, then laughed. "You’re right."

He took a sip of the coffee on the table. "But there is one thing I must confirm—in your report, you state that the reforms in the Czech Republic will provoke a Soviet military intervention. Are you certain?"

"One hundred percent certain," Werner said. "By the summer of 1968 at the latest, Soviet tanks will roll into Prague."

"Your reasoning?"

"Moscow will not permit the Czech Republic to go too far." Werner flicked his cigarette ash. "Dubcek may think he can control the situation, but he can’t. Once the reforms begin, public expectation will become a flood breaking through a dam, washing away all defenses. When that happens, Brezhnev will have only two options: let the Czech Republic leave the Warsaw Pact, or send in troops to crush the movement." He looked at Schroeder. "Which do you think Brezhnev will choose?"

Schroeder stared at Werner for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Your reasoning is sound. Werner, you’re the most farsighted man I have ever met. If your prediction comes true, the Federal Government will not forget your contribution."

Werner just smiled and said nothing.

The snow had stopped by the time he walked out of the hotel.

Werner stood on the curb waiting for a taxi, gazing at the brightly lit streets of Munich as a complex mix of emotions washed over him.

’He knew what he was doing—selling intelligence on the Czech reformers to West Germany, turning the impending tragedy into his own bargaining chip.’

’Jaroslav, Peter, and all those young people who believed in the reforms... they were all just pawns on his chessboard.’

But he had no regrets.

’In this era, you were either a pawn or a player.’

Werner had chosen to be the latter.

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

In January 1968, the East Berlin winter was bone-chillingly cold.

Werner was summoned by Von Brown to Stasi Headquarters, this time to Von Brown’s own office.

The room was heated, but Werner still felt a chill.

Von Brown sat behind his desk with a thick file placed before him. His expression was grim.

"Sit." Von Brown gestured to the chair opposite him.

Werner sat down and waited for Von Brown to speak.

"Your activities in the Czech Republic," Von Brown began, opening the file. "Someone reported to me that you’ve been liquidating your assets on a massive scale. Property, shares, Crown deposits—all of it, sold off." He looked up at Werner. "Why?"

Werner had his answer ready. "Because the situation in the Czech Republic is unstable. Novotny is on his way out, and the reformers are coming in. I don’t know what policies the new government will implement, so I decided to liquidate my assets first and wait until the situation becomes clearer."

"Do you think the reformers taking power is a good thing or a bad thing for us?" Von Brown asked.

"In the short term, it’s a good thing," Werner said without hesitation. "The reformers will open up the market further, making our trade in the Czech Republic easier. But in the long term—" He paused. "I’m worried the Czech Republic will go too far."

"What do you mean?"

"Moscow won’t sit idly by," Werner said. "If the reforms in the Czech Republic threaten the stability of the Warsaw Pact, the Soviet Union will certainly intervene. When that happens, the country will be thrown into turmoil, and all our investments will go down the drain."

Von Brown stared at Werner for a long moment before nodding slowly. "You have a point." He closed the file. "The leadership is also discussing this issue. Comrade Ublis is extremely wary of the Czech reforms, believing they will have an adverse effect on East Germany."

"That’s why I pulled out my investments ahead of time," Werner said. "If trouble breaks out in the Czech Republic, at least our losses can be minimized."

Von Brown nodded. "Since you have such a good grasp of the situation there, I want you to continue monitoring the activities of the Czech reformers. Compile a report for me, the more detailed the better."

"Understood." Werner stood up. "I’ll complete it as soon as possible."

Von Brown suddenly stopped him. "Werner."

"Yes?"

"Don’t get in too deep." Von Brown’s tone carried a note of warning. "The reformers are going to be purged. You’re getting close to them now to gather intelligence. But don’t forget which side you’re on."

Werner looked at Von Brown and slowly nodded. "I understand."

Stepping out of Stasi Headquarters, Werner took a deep breath.

’He was now juggling two assignments: a report for Von Brown on the movements of the reformers, and intelligence for West Germany’s BND on the very same people.’

’The content of both assignments was identical—information on the Czech reformers—but their purposes were starkly different.’

’Von Brown would use the report to help the Soviets purge the Czech reformers after the invasion. West Germany, meanwhile, would use it to save them.’

’Werner just had to ensure one thing: that West Germany got the people out before Von Brown made his move.’

’That way, he would complete his mission for the Stasi and earn his bargaining chips from West Germany at the same time.’

’Perfect.’

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

「January 5, 1968. 10:00 PM.」

Werner sat on the sofa in his small suburban villa, a glass of whiskey in hand, his eyes fixed on the television screen.

A news anchor on the East German state television channel was broadcasting a new report:

"The Central Committee of the Communist Party of Czechoslovak convened today, electing Comrade Alexander Dubcek to the position of First Secretary—"

Werner turned off the television.

’It’s begun.’

’The Prague Spring has officially begun.’

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