Werner decided to take more direct action.

He needed to find concrete evidence that Ivanov was selling off military supplies.

If Ivanov was truly selling military supplies under the table, where would those goods ultimately end up?

Werner thought of a place—a scrap yard. Many items from dubious sources were disposed of through such channels.

The next day, Werner went to a scrap yard near the Soviet Army camp.

People often came here to sell items of "dubious origin," making it a good place to gather information.

The owner of the scrap yard was an old man named Mede. He was as thin as a bamboo pole, but his eyes were sharp and shrewd.

"Gotten any good stuff lately, Mede?" Werner asked, putting on a casual air.

"Nothing special," Mede said, watching him warily. "What are you looking to buy?"

Werner pulled ten Marks from his pocket. "I’m looking for some... special items. Like military-grade canned food, medical supplies, that sort of thing."

Mede’s eyes immediately lit up.

He glanced around, and after confirming no one else was nearby, he lowered his voice. "You came at the right time. Someone just dropped off a batch of Soviet Army medical supplies yesterday. Bandages, iodine, the works—all brand new."

"Who brought them in?"

"A middle-aged woman. Said her husband works for the Soviet Army and got his hands on some surplus supplies," Mede said conspiratorially. "But I don’t think she looked like an officer’s wife. More like a middleman for the Black Market."

A thought struck Werner.

If Soviet Army supplies were really circulating on the Black Market, it meant someone was indeed selling military goods on the side.

"Can I see them?"

Mede led Werner to the backyard and pointed to several boxes in the corner. "These are the ones. See? The packaging is all in Russian. Definitely Soviet Army stuff."

Werner carefully inspected the medical supplies.

The packaging was indeed Russian, and it all bore the Soviet Army insignia.

More importantly, he discovered an obscured serial number on one of the boxes.

The number looked like it had been intentionally damaged. Most of the digits were scraped off or blackened out, leaving only fragmented characters like "7...M...3..."

But Werner noticed some faint impressions next to the damaged section, seemingly traces of the original number.

He took out a magnifying glass to examine it closely. From the faint indentations and residual ink, he could make out what looked like the format "79-MED-031".

’79th Regiment, medical supplies, serial number 031.’

’Isn’t that Ivanov’s unit?’

"How much did you pay for this shipment?" Werner asked.

"Three hundred Marks," Mede said. "The woman asked for five hundred. I haggled her down to three hundred."

Werner nodded.

The normal price for military medical supplies was at least one thousand Marks. An acquisition cost of three hundred Marks meant this was definitely not legitimate merchandise.

"I’ll take it all," Werner said. "At market price, one thousand Marks."

Mede was overjoyed and immediately agreed to the price.

Werner paid the money and had Mede help him deliver the boxes to his residence.

These military medical supplies, bearing the insignia of the 79th Regiment, were the key evidence he needed.

After returning to his residence, Werner began to organize the information he had gathered over the past two days.

He took out a notebook and recorded all the details about Ivanov:

Frequently dines at high-end restaurants, spending far beyond an officer’s salary

Wears custom leather boots and a Western watch

Smokes American cigarettes, drinks imported vodka

Specifically extorts Black Market merchants

Works in the 79th Logistics Regiment

Previously warned for illicitly selling military supplies

Now, Werner had physical evidence of Ivanov selling off military supplies.

But this alone wasn’t enough. He needed more direct proof: discrepancies in the financial records.

If Ivanov had been selling military supplies on the side for a long time, then discrepancies would inevitably appear during inventory checks.

And such financial records were typically audited monthly.

Werner thought of Lorry, whom he had met a few days ago.

The timid translator was now working in the Soviet Army’s logistics department, responsible for translating various documents.

If he could get the 79th Regiment’s inventory reports from him, he could find Ivanov’s fatal weakness.

But how to persuade Lorry to help him required careful planning.

The next morning, Werner "ran into" Lorry at the bakery he frequented.

"Hey, Lorry, what a coincidence," Werner said, feigning surprise.

Seeing Werner, Lorry seemed a bit nervous. "Werner? What are you doing here?"

"Buying bread. I heard this shop has good black bread," Werner said with a smile. "Has work been going well lately?"

"It’s... it’s okay. Just a bit stressful at times," Lorry answered cautiously.

Werner bought two loaves of bread and handed one to Lorry. "By the way, I’ve always been curious, what kind of documents do you translate?"

"Mostly inventory reports and supply allocation forms," Lorry said, taking the bread. "I have to translate a ton of them every month, especially during the month-end inventory."

"Inventory reports?" Werner asked as if it were a passing thought. "That must be complicated."

"It is, and..." Lorry hesitated for a moment. "Sometimes the numbers don’t add up, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to translate that."

Werner’s heart leaped with joy. "The numbers don’t add up? What do you mean?"

"It means the disbursement records don’t match the usage records," Lorry complained in a low voice. "For example, the records show ten boxes of medical supplies were disbursed, but the usage logs only account for three. Where did the other seven boxes go? The officers always say they were for ’emergency use,’ but there are never any specific details."

This was exactly the information Werner wanted!

He feigned great interest. "Which unit’s reports have the most problems?"

"The 79th Regiment," Lorry said without hesitation. "It happens almost every month, but no one dares to question it because that Major Ivanov has a terrible temper."

Werner knew his chance had come, but he had to proceed with caution, lest Herman sense his true intentions.

"Ivanov?" Werner feigned curiosity. "He sounds like a tough character."

"Tough?" Lorry gave a bitter smile. "Oh, he’s ’tough,’ all right. Every time I question the accuracy of the data, he storms into the translation office and chews us out, saying we don’t understand military secrets and shouldn’t poke our noses into other people’s business."

"And you just accept that?"

"What else can we do?" Lorry spread his hands helplessly. "We’re just translators, not auditors. Besides, Ivanov has connections in the Soviet Army. No one dares to cross him."

Werner mulled it over for a moment, then said, "Lorry, I want to ask you a hypothetical question. If someone wanted to... verify the authenticity of this inventory data, what kind of evidence would they need?"

"Why are you asking?" Lorry immediately became wary.