I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 277: Chapter 60: The Dawn of the Eastern Policy

"Refugees don’t carry much." Anna placed her canvas bag on the table. "Bringing too much would be suspicious."

She walked to the mirror and carefully inspected her outfit—an old sweater, faded pants, and worn-out shoes.

She had tied her hair back casually in a ponytail. She wore no makeup, and her face looked haggard and exhausted.

"So?" she asked, turning to Werner. "Do I look like a refugee on the run?"

"A little too much," Werner said. "If I were a border guard, I’d definitely arrest you."

Anna smiled, but her smile held a trace of nervousness.

She walked over and sat down beside Werner, taking a deep breath.

"Werner, I’m still a little worried," she admitted. "The West German screening... what if they use a lie detector? What if they ask me something I can’t answer?"

"Then tell them part of the truth," Werner said. "The best lies are always mostly true. You really did work for the Stasi, you really do know a lot about the inner workings, and you really are dissatisfied with the East German system. All of that is true."

"But what if they ask why I decided to flee..."

"Tell them you were afraid of being purged," Werner said. "The Stasi is indeed conducting internal purges after the Prague Spring. You can say you were concerned there was something in your background, worried you’d be investigated, and so you chose to flee to West Germany. It’s a plausible reason. They’ll believe it in West Germany."

Anna nodded, but she was still uneasy.

"What if they ask me if I’m willing to go back to East Germany to gather intelligence..."

"Then agree," Werner said calmly. "That’s exactly what the Stasi wants. If you agree, West Germany will think they’ve turned you. The Stasi will think you’ve successfully infiltrated West German intelligence. Both sides will be satisfied."

"But what if the two sides cross-check information..."

"They won’t," Werner said. "West Germany and East Germany are fighting an intelligence war, but they don’t communicate directly. The Stasi won’t see the intelligence you give to West Germany, and West Germany won’t see the intelligence you give to the Stasi. As long as you carefully control the information both sides receive, you’ll be fine."

Anna looked at him. "You seem very familiar with this kind of thing."

"I’m walking a tightrope between both sides myself," Werner said with a small smile. "I understand your position."

Anna looked at him, an indescribable emotion in her eyes.

"Werner, thank you."

"For what?"

"Thank you for not trying to talk me out of it, and for not saying things like ’I’ll wait for you’," Anna said. "You just told me how to survive. That’s what I really need."

Werner laughed. "I’m not the type to say sweet nothings."

"I know." Anna laughed too. "That’s why I like you."

She kissed him. The kiss was gentle, but also resolute.

***********

「East Berlin, border checkpoint. Dusk, the next day.」

Werner stood on a street corner outside the checkpoint, watching Anna walk toward the border.

The canvas bag was on her back, her head was down, and her steps were slightly unsteady—she was perfectly playing the part of a refugee attempting to flee to West Germany.

Werner lit a cigarette. He appeared calm, but his grip on the cigarette was a little too tight.

He knew what would happen next.

Anna would be spotted by the border guards, and then she would "successfully escape"—it was all part of a script carefully orchestrated by the Stasi.

The chase would be very real, there would even be a few gunshots, but the bullets wouldn’t hit her.

But even knowing it was all staged, Werner couldn’t help but feel a flicker of unease.

’Nothing will go wrong. She’s smart. She can handle it.’

Werner saw Anna suddenly stop, turn her head, and glance in his direction.

The distance was too great for him to see her expression, but he knew she was looking at him.

Werner raised the hand holding the cigarette and gave a slight nod.

Anna stood there, looking at him for a few seconds, then turned and continued walking.

Soon, Werner heard the sound of police whistles and the shouts of border guards.

"Stop! Freeze!"

Anna started to run.

Gunshots rang out.

Werner’s fingers tightened slightly, and cigarette ash fell to the ground.

Rationally, he knew those bullets wouldn’t hit her, but his body tensed instinctively.

More gunshots.

Anna’s figure dashed through the beam of a searchlight, vaulted over a low wall, and vanished into the darkness.

The guards chased after her but quickly stopped—the script ended there.

Werner stood his ground, staring for a long time in the direction Anna had disappeared.

Then he took a deep drag from his cigarette, stubbed it out, and turned towards the car parked by the roadside.

He got in the car, started the engine, and drove away from the border.

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

In the Berlin of October 1969, the autumn wind already carried a bone-chilling cold.

Werner stood in the sixth-floor conference room of Koko Headquarters, holding a document that had just been faxed from West Germany.

Outside the window was a gray, overcast sky. Down below on Alexanderplatz, pedestrians hurried by, bundled up in their overcoats.

"Brandt actually won." Gunter slapped the document on the table. "The Social Democratic Party is in power. The first time in thirty years."

The conference room was filled with Koko’s top brass.

A few department heads were huddled together, whispering about something.

Werner noticed that the same word was written on everyone’s face—opportunity.

Memories from his past life flashed through Werner’s mind.

’The Social Democratic Party, or German Social Democratic Party. One of the two major political parties in post-war West Germany, long locked in a rivalry with the conservative CDU.’

’Even in the 21st century, these two parties would still be the pillars of German politics.’

’But this was 1969. The CDU had just lost power, and the Social Democratic Party’s Brandt had come into office with his radical "Ostpolitik," his Eastern Policy.’

’What did this mean?’

’Werner knew exactly what it meant—West Germany was about to extend an olive branch to the East.’

"Werner, what do you think?" Gunter suddenly turned his head.

Werner put down the document and walked to the map of Europe hanging on the wall.

His finger traced a line on the map, from Bonn to Berlin, then extending to Moscow.

"Brandt’s ’Ostpolitik’ isn’t a whim. He started thinking along these lines when he was the mayor of West Berlin. Now that he’s chancellor, the first thing he’ll do is negotiate with the East."

"Negotiate about what?" a young section chief asked.

"Everything," Werner said, turning around. "Border control, personnel exchanges, trade agreements. But most importantly—" he paused, "money."

The conference room was quiet for a few seconds.

Gunter began to laugh, the kind of smile a wolf has when it sees its prey. "Go on."

Werner walked back to his seat, picked up a pen, and wrote a few numbers on a piece of paper.

"Currently, the foreign currency we get from West Germany every year comes from two main channels. The Ned trade, which brought in 1.2 billion Marks last year. And the trade of political prisoners, which brought in ten million."

"So what does Brandt coming to power mean?" Werner pushed the paper to the center of the table. "West Germany wants to show goodwill to the East. They need to prove their ’New Eastern Policy’ is effective. And how do they do that? By throwing money at us."

Otto sat up straight. "You mean—"

"The political prisoner trade will increase at least fivefold," Werner’s voice was certain. "Ten million will become fifty million, maybe even more. The Ned trade will also see significant growth, because West German companies will be encouraged to do business with the East."

"What makes you so sure?" the young section chief asked, still skeptical.

Werner glanced at him.

"What was Brandt’s campaign slogan? ’Dare more democracy.’ He needs to prove with actions that the Social Democratic Party is different from that bunch of conservatives in the CDU, that they’re willing to shake hands with the East. And what’s the price of a handshake? Concessions, benefits, and money."

’There was something else Werner didn’t say,’ he thought. ’But that old fox Ublis won’t be so easily bought.’

’What was East Germany’s biggest obsession right now?’

’International recognition.’

’For twenty years, East Germany had remained a "ghost state" in the eyes of the world.’

’Aside from the Soviet Union and the Eastern Bloc, the Western world simply didn’t recognize East Germany’s existence.’

’In their eyes, there was only one Germany, and that was West Germany.’

’The West German Government had always adhered to the "Hallstein Doctrine"—if any country recognized East Germany, West Germany would sever diplomatic relations with them.’

’It was a ruthless move that had completely boxed East Germany in.’

’What did Ublis want? A seat in the United Nations, embassies in foreign capitals, and the status of an equal, sovereign nation.’

’And what West Germany wanted in exchange for economic aid was influence over East Germany and to maintain the fantasy of "one Germany."’

’In essence, these were two irreconcilable demands.’

’But for Werner, the longer the tug-of-war went on, the more he stood to gain.’

Gunter picked up the piece of paper and squinted at it for a long time.

"If you’re right, we need to start preparing immediately."

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