I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Chapter 305: Chapter 88: London Deal

The Stasi Headquarters was on Normannen Street, its gray building imposing and oppressive.

Werner parked his car in the visitor’s area and walked into the building, briefcase in hand.

The guard checked his identification, made a phone call, and then let him pass.

Von Brown’s office was on the fourth floor. When Werner knocked and entered, Von Brown was reading a document.

"Werner?" Von Brown looked up. "What brings you here?"

"I need a favor." Werner sat down, placing Koko’s authorization letter and Gunter’s approval on his desk. "I need to go to London, as soon as possible."

Von Brown picked up the documents and looked them over.

"Oil procurement?" He frowned. "What’s the rush?"

"Energy security," Werner said, using the excuse he had prepared. "We can’t rely entirely on the Soviet Union’s oil supply. Comrade Gunter believes we should diversify our risk and procure a portion from the West as well."

Von Brown stared at Werner, his gaze scrutinizing.

"Is it that simple?"

"It is that simple," Werner said. "Von Brown, this is normal business. The Koko Group procures all sorts of materials from the West every year, and oil is just one of them."

Von Brown fell silent. He put down the documents and leaned back in his chair.

"Werner, we’ve known each other for years. You should know I’m not a fool," he said. "Procuring oil in London... does it have to be this urgent? Leaving tomorrow?"

Werner knew he couldn’t fool Von Brown, but he couldn’t tell him the truth, either.

"Because now is a good time," he said. "Oil prices have been very stable lately, making it the perfect time to negotiate. If we delay, the price might change."

Von Brown stared at him for a few seconds.

"Werner, you know what going to London means. It’s a hotbed for Western intelligence agencies. Every move you make will be monitored."

"I know," Werner said. "But I’m just going there to do business, not to engage in espionage."

Von Brown was silent again. He walked back to his desk and picked up the phone.

"Wait. I need to make a call to the higher-ups."

The call lasted a long time. Von Brown’s voice was at times low and at others rushed; he was clearly arguing his case with a superior.

Ten minutes later, he hung up.

"It’s handled." He looked at Werner. "Tomorrow, nine in the morning, a flight from Berlin to London."

"Thank you." Werner stood up.

"Don’t thank me." Von Brown picked up a pen and started filling out a form. "But Werner, I’m warning you, be careful. If anything goes wrong—"

"I’ll be careful," Werner said.

Von Brown finished the form, stamped it, and handed it to Werner.

"Take this."

Werner took the exit permit and shook Von Brown’s hand to say goodbye.

As he walked out of the Stasi Headquarters, Werner glanced at his watch. Five in the afternoon.

Everything was arranged. Money, connections, exit permit.

Now, he just had to wait for tomorrow.

Werner drove back to the secret apartment. Anna hadn’t arrived yet. He opened the safe, took out a stack of documents and cash, and began to pack what he needed for the next day.

Passport, Koko’s authorization letter, proof of assets from the Swiss Bank, cash...

Everything was ready.

At nine o’clock that night, Anna arrived.

"Are you packing?" She looked at Werner’s briefcase. "Going on a business trip?"

"To London," Werner said. "I leave tomorrow."

"London?" Anna frowned. "So sudden?"

Werner pointed to the news about the Middle East in the newspaper.

"See this?"

Anna glanced at it, then looked up.

"Egypt and Syria are conducting military exercises. What’s so unusual about that?"

"It might be more than just exercises," Werner said vaguely. "The situation is unstable. If something happens, oil prices could fluctuate. I need to sign a batch of oil contracts for the Koko Group before that."

Anna stared at him for a few seconds.

"Werner, are you gambling again?"

"Yes," Werner nodded. "But this time, the stakes are much higher."

"How much higher?"

"If I succeed, the Koko Group could make tens of millions of US dollars. And I personally could make..." He paused. "Enough for us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives."

"Werner, sometimes I really don’t know if you’re a genius or a madman."

"Maybe both." Werner walked over and hugged her from behind. "But Anna, trust me. I won’t be wrong this time."

Anna turned around and looked into his eyes.

"And what if you are wrong?"

"Then I’ll lose everything." Werner smiled. "But it won’t affect you. I’ve mortgaged all my property in West Germany. The worst-case scenario is that I lose the houses. But my position in East Germany remains, and the Koko Group is still here. I can always start over."

Anna looked at him and, after a long moment, sighed.

"You gambler."

"I am a gambler." Werner kissed her forehead. "But I never bet on a losing hand."

They didn’t say much more that night. Anna lay in Werner’s arms, listening to his heartbeat.

Outside the window, night fell over East Berlin.

**********

September 26th, 8:00 AM.

Werner drove to Berlin-Schonefeld Airport.

He checked in by himself and boarded the flight to London.

The plane was an East German Airlines Tu-154. The seats were narrow, but reasonably comfortable. Werner sat by the window and took out a book on the oil trade, but he wasn’t really reading it. He was mentally mapping out his every next step.

’First, meet Hawkins and sign the oil contract. This is for the Koko Group, and it’s the official reason for my trip.’

’Second, meet Rosenberg, open an account, and buy put options and gold. This is my private operation, and has nothing to do with the Koko Group.’

’Both steps must succeed. Only then can I earn the maximum profit from this coming crisis.’

The plane broke through the clouds, revealing an endless sky. Werner gazed at the distant horizon, silently calculating the time.

October 6th.

’Ten days left.’

’In ten days, war will break out, oil prices will skyrocket, and the global stock market will crash.’

’I will stand at the center of the storm and reap the immense fortune this crisis brings.’

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

At 2:00 PM, the plane landed at London Heathrow Airport.

Werner walked out of the terminal, briefcase in hand. Autumn in London was overcast and drizzly, the air damp. He hailed a taxi.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked in a thick London accent.

"The city center. To a hotel first," Werner replied, giving the address.

The taxi drove through the streets of London.

The city was filled with tall buildings and lined with shops, its streets bustling with traffic.

Red double-decker buses, black taxis—vibrancy and clamor were everywhere. People were dressed fashionably, rushing about their business, and shop windows were full of goods.

Werner looked out the window, a thought striking him.

’No matter the world, the rules are the same—with money comes power, and with power comes everything.’

The taxi stopped in front of a mid-range hotel in the city center.

Werner checked in, changed into a formal suit and tie in his room, picked up his briefcase, and walked out of the hotel.

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

At 4:45 PM, Werner stood before a gray Victorian building.

A brass plaque was engraved with: Hawkins International Trading Co., Ltd.

He pushed the door open and went inside.

The receptionist was a young British girl, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, dressed smartly. Seeing Werner, she smiled politely.

"Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?"

"I’m Werner Betelich. I have a five o’clock appointment with Mr. Peter Hawkins."

The girl picked up the phone, said a few words, and then hung up.

"Mr. Hawkins will see you now. Third floor, first office on the right."

"Thank you."

Werner went upstairs. The hallway was carpeted in deep red, and the walls were adorned with several oil paintings of the English countryside. There was a faint smell of cigars in the air.

He knocked and pushed the door open.

Peter Hawkins was sitting behind his desk. Seeing Werner, he immediately stood up and extended his hand.

"Mr. Betelich! Welcome, welcome!" He shook Werner’s hand firmly. "Margaret mentioned you to me. Said you had a big deal to discuss."

Hawkins was a British man in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing an elegant three-piece suit with a gold pocket watch chain at his waist. His office was large, its decor classical and luxurious. Nautical charts and oil paintings of ships hung on the walls, and the bookshelves were filled with leather-bound volumes.

"Yes," Werner said as he sat down. "Thank you for taking the time to see me."

"Not at all, not at all." Hawkins poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to Werner. "A friend of Margaret’s is a friend of mine. She said you wanted to discuss an oil contract?"

"That’s right." Werner accepted the glass. "I need to procure a batch of oil forward contracts for my company. The quantity is quite large."

"How large?" Hawkins took a sip of whiskey, his eyes sharpening.

"At least one million barrels."

"One million barrels? Mr. Betelich, that’s no small sum." Hawkins put down his glass. "Which company do you represent?"

"The Koko Group." Werner took the authorization letter from his briefcase. "This is our company’s official authorization."

Hawkins took the document and examined it carefully.

"Koko... I’ve heard of it. East Germany’s largest foreign trade company." He looked up. "But I’m curious. Doesn’t East Germany get its supply from the Soviet Union? Why the sudden need to buy oil from the West?"

Werner had his excuse ready.

"Our industry is expanding, and the Soviet supply is insufficient," he said calmly. "Furthermore, we wish to diversify our sources to reduce risk. As you know, it’s unwise to rely entirely on a single supplier."

"A wise strategy." Hawkins nodded. "What kind of contract are you looking for, specifically?"

"A forward contract for physical delivery, locking in the price at three US dollars per barrel, with a delivery period of three months," Werner said. "We’ll start with one million barrels. If all goes well, there will be more orders to follow."

Hawkins considered this for a moment, then picked up the calculator on his desk and punched in a few numbers.

"One million barrels at three US dollars a barrel... At the current market price, the margin for this contract would be about three hundred thousand US dollars."

"The margin is not an issue. Here is proof of funds."

Hawkins took the document, glanced at it, and nodded.

"The funds are in order." He put the document down and leaned back in his chair again. "But Mr. Betelich, I must remind you, the price of oil is very stable right now, around three US dollars per barrel. If you lock in this price and it drops in the coming months, you will incur a loss."

"We’ve done our assessment," Werner said, his tone impassive. "We believe the price is reasonable."

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