Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Targeted by a Guard?

"What do you mean?"

"Fatty Wolf is a decent Black Market dealer, but he’s content with the status quo. He just buys whatever is currently popular on the Black Market." Reynard narrowed his eyes. "But the market is always changing. It needs someone who can proactively identify opportunities, not just passively follow trends."

Werner’s heart began to race.

"I have some... goods from special channels. The risk is greater, but the profits are much higher." Reynard looked into Werner’s eyes. "Fatty Wolf isn’t suited for this kind of business. He’s too cautious."

"What kind of goods?"

"Electronics, medicine, and some... politically sensitive books and records." Reynard’s voice grew lower. "Demand for these things is huge in East Berlin, but it takes someone with brains and guts to dare touch them."

Werner was silent for a few seconds, his mind racing. This was a real opportunity—and a much bigger one than doing small deals with Fatty Wolf.

"How are the profits split?"

"Now that’s the question I wanted to hear." Reynard smiled with satisfaction. "A seventy-thirty split. Seventy for you, thirty for me."

Werner raised an eyebrow. "So generous?"

"Friend, I’m looking for a long-term partnership." Reynard tapped the table. "Short-term profits aren’t important. What’s important is building a stable relationship."

The offer was tempting, but Werner didn’t agree immediately.

"I need to see your goods first."

"Of course." Reynard stood up. "Come on, I’ll take you to the warehouse."

Reynard’s warehouse was in the basement of an apartment building.

The neatly arranged shelves were filled with all sorts of merchandise: cartons of Marlboros, Colombia coffee beans, various whiskeys and brandies, Swiss chocolate, and even small radios.

"What do you think?" Reynard asked smugly.

Werner walked over to a radio, picking it up to examine it closely. It was a Philips, exquisitely made.

"What stations can this pick up?"

"RIAS, the BBC, and Voice of America," Reynard said.

Werner’s eyes lit up.

In East Germany, listening to Western radio stations was illegal, but the more illegal something was, the greater the market demand.

The intellectuals dissatisfied with the current regime, those eager for news from the outside world—they were all willing to pay a high price for a radio like this.

"In East Berlin, this is... high risk, but even higher profit." Werner put the radio down. "The children of officials, and those intellectuals, they love this kind of thing. They think listening to Western radio is fashionable."

Reynard nodded in appreciation. "Exactly! This is what I like about you. You don’t just see a business opportunity; you can also analyze the target customer base."

Werner continued looking around the warehouse. Suddenly, he noticed a few cases of alcohol in a corner.

"What’s this?"

"German brandy, and a few cases of whiskey," Reynard said.

"I have a suggestion." Werner turned to face Reynard. "If we’re going to be long-term partners, we should have two-way trade."

"What do you mean?"

"I bring things from East Germany to sell here in West Berlin," Werner said. "What East German products do you think have a market in West Germany but are in short supply?"

Reynard thought for a moment. "To be honest, while most East German goods are inferior to West German ones in both quality and packaging design, there are a few interesting items."

He counted on his fingers. "For example, Rotkäppchen sparkling wine. The production process is decent, and the price is much cheaper than the champagne we have here. A lot of people are willing to buy it for everyday drinking."

"What else?" Werner pressed.

"Florena skincare products—the face cream in the blue tin can," Reynard continued. "It’s cheap and very popular with housewives looking for a bargain. The packaging is simple, but their strengths are practicality and value for money."

"Alright. Next time I come, I’ll bring some Rotkäppchen sparkling wine and that skincare cream you mentioned." Werner looked around the warehouse. "Business needs to flow both ways to be sustainable."

Reynard burst out laughing. "Werner, I really picked the right person! You not only have a head for business, but also a strategic mind."

He walked up to Werner and extended his hand. "To a successful partnership!"

"To a successful partnership!" Werner shook his hand.

"But there’s one thing I must warn you about." Reynard suddenly grew serious. "The border policies could change at any time. I have friends in the US Army, and I’ve heard..."

"Heard what?"

"The situation in Berlin is very unstable. Something big could happen at any moment." Reynard lowered his voice. "If you’re serious about this business, you need to move fast. The window of opportunity won’t be open for long."

Werner nodded. He knew that "something big" was the coming of the Berlin Wall. He still had a few months.

"So when do we start?"

"We start tomorrow." Reynard grabbed a bag of coffee beans and two packs of cigarettes from the shelf and handed them to him. "Samples. Go back and see how they sell."

Back on the street, Fatty Wolf was already waiting for him.

"How was your tour?" Fatty Wolf asked.

"Great." Werner quickly fabricated a travelogue of West Berlin attractions he knew from his previous life, pretending Reynard had taken him on a tour.

Fatty Wolf nodded. "Reynard is a reliable guy."

The two of them walked toward the subway station together.

On the way, Werner’s mind was still racing.

Everything he had seen today challenged his perceptions. The prosperity of West Berlin stood in stark contrast to the scarcity in East Berlin, and this contrast represented a massive business opportunity.

Once the Berlin Wall was built and passage became more difficult, the value of these Western goods would multiply several times over. He had to seize this opportunity, stockpiling as many goods and building as many connections as he could before the change came.

Looking back at West Berlin, the flashing neon lights seemed to beckon to him.

On the other side of that not-yet-completely-sealed border lay everything he needed: goods, capital, and opportunity.

And he, Werner Betelich, was about to become the bridge connecting two worlds.

’I have to seize this opportunity.’ He gripped the samples in his hand, swearing an oath to himself.

Tomorrow, the real business would begin.

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

A month flew by in the blink of an eye after he started working with Reynard.

Werner took the subway to West Berlin two or three times a week, always carrying a case of some size.

Although people could still travel between East and West Berlin with relative freedom at this time, frequent cross-sector activity always attracted attention—especially from the border patrol guards.

’There’s a lot of new merchandise this time. I’ll have to carefully figure out the sales channels.’ Werner thought to himself as he headed downstairs, carrying a modified suitcase.

The case was filled with good stuff from Reynard—cigarettes, Western magazines, and records.

Last week, on the subway platform, a young East German soldier had given him a few long looks.

The soldier was in his early twenties, with blond hair and a few pimples on his chin. His eyes held the characteristic wariness of a new recruit.

At the time, Werner had pretended not to notice, but alarm bells were already ringing in his head. ’Damn it, that kid definitely remembers my face.’

This afternoon, there was a lingering chill in the spring air. The subway station was filled with the smell of damp mold and burning coal—the characteristic scent of Berlin in 1961.

Werner deliberately chose a spot in the corner, hoping to avoid being too conspicuous.

But as the train pulled into the station, his heart skipped a beat.

The pimply soldier had appeared again, standing right at the carriage entrance with a small notebook for checking IDs.

’Shit, my luck is rotten today.’

"ID." The soldier began his routine check of passengers’ identification.

When it was Werner’s turn, the soldier paused noticeably, as if trying hard to remember something.

"You take the subway often?" The soldier studied his face, then glanced at the heavy suitcase.