Chapter 243 - 26: Establishing a Line to the West German Intelligence Agency

Chapter 243: Chapter 26: Establishing a Line to the West German Intelligence Agency

Anna turned and walked to the window.

She crossed her arms, staring into the darkness outside for a long time.

"Why seek out the West German intelligence services?" she finally asked.

"For protection," Werner said. "I’m going to open a secret account in West Berlin, and money will be deposited into it continuously. That kind of unusual cash flow will attract attention sooner or later. I need someone to look the other way."

"Why not ask Reynard to help you?"

"Reynard is just a businessman," Werner said. "He can help me with the specific trades, but he doesn’t have the power to protect my account from being investigated. Besides—"

He paused. "This isn’t something I can fully entrust to a man motivated purely by profit. If something goes wrong, he won’t take any risks for me."

Anna turned back to him. "But the West German intelligence services—do you have any idea what getting involved with them means?"

"I know." Werner walked over to her. "But I’m just making a deal with them, not actually working for them. I’ll occasionally give them some insignificant intel—like trends in East German economic policy or the status of certain officials—in exchange for their protection of my West Berlin account. That’s it."

"Insignificant intel?" Anna scoffed. "Werner, do you think an intelligence agency will be satisfied with that? Once you start feeding them information, they’ll demand more. You’ll get in deeper and deeper until there’s no turning back."

"That’s why I need your help." Werner grabbed her hands. "You work for the Stasi. You know how to deal with intelligence agencies, how to manage the risks. I need you to help me find a reliable contact and design a safe method of exchange."

Anna looked at him, her eyes filled with conflict, worry, and a hint of resignation.

"If this gets discovered—" she said.

"It won’t be," Werner said. "Von Brown trusts me, and Gunter needs me. As long as I can keep making them money, they won’t dig into my background. And I’ll be very careful. The amounts for each transaction won’t be too large, and I’ll make the books watertight."

Anna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A long moment passed before she opened them again, her gaze now firm.

"I can help you," she said. "But you have to promise me two things."

"Name them."

"First, your operations must have limits. Don’t be too frequent, and don’t get greedy. Keep the amount for each transaction within a reasonable range so you don’t attract attention."

"Alright."

"Second—" Anna moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The moment anything seems wrong, you have to stop immediately. No matter how much money you’ve made, no matter how far you are from your goal, you stop."

Werner looked into her eyes and saw a vulnerability he rarely glimpsed.

"I promise you," he said.

Anna sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "You know, sometimes I really wish we were just two ordinary people, not living among all these plots and schemes."

Werner held her tight. "Once I’ve saved enough money, once this country collapses, we’ll leave. We’ll go to West Germany, or somewhere even farther. Then, we’ll be ordinary people."

"Really?" Anna looked up.

"Really." Werner kissed her forehead.

That night, they held each other tightly, and neither spoke another word.

The night outside was impenetrably dark, and the entire city was lost in a deep silence.

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

A week later, Anna brought news.

"Contact has been made," she told Werner in their secret apartment. "West Berlin. Two weeks from now, someone will meet with you."

"Who is it?" Werner asked.

"A mid-level operative from the BND." Anna handed him a slip of paper with a time and place written on it. "His name is Werner Stein. He’s in charge of intelligence gathering. Not too high up, but he has enough authority."

Werner looked at the note, his heart quickening.

"When you meet him, don’t say too much," Anna cautioned. "Only talk about what you can offer and what you need. Don’t volunteer details about your specific work in East Germany, and don’t promise anything you can’t deliver."

"Understood."

Anna looked at him and reached out to stroke his face. "Be careful."

"I will."

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

Two weeks later, Werner was sitting in an unassuming cafe in West Berlin, waiting for the man named Werner Stein.

The cafe was on a quiet street, with few customers.

A few abstract paintings hung on the walls, and soft jazz music drifted from a radio in the corner.

Werner sat at a table by the window and ordered a black coffee.

Outside the window was the bustling streetscape of West Berlin. Shop windows were filled with a dazzling array of goods, and the pedestrians on the street were fashionably dressed, their expressions relaxed.

It was a completely different world from East Berlin.

At ten past three, a man in a gray suit pushed the door open and came in.

He was in his forties, wore black-rimmed glasses, and looked like an ordinary civil servant.

But Werner noticed his eyes—sharp and alert, scanning every corner of the cafe. It was the characteristic gaze of an intelligence agent.

The man sat down across from Werner and, without introducing himself, spoke directly: "You’re Werner?"

"Yes."

"I’m Werner." The man picked up the coffee Werner had ordered for him and took a sip. "I hear you want to have a talk with us?"

Werner nodded and lowered his voice. "I need protection."

"What kind of protection?"

"I have a bank account in West Berlin. There will be funds moving in and out," Werner said. "I need to make sure no one investigates it."

Stein put down his coffee cup, a speculative look in his eyes. "How much money?"

"Not too much," Werner said. "A few thousand to tens of thousands of Marks at a time, deposited in separate installments."

"Source?"

"My... gray income." Werner chose a relatively safe term.

Stein stared at him for a few seconds, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a slight smile. "You’re with Koko?"

Werner didn’t deny it.

"Interesting." Stein took another sip of coffee. "In exchange, what can you give us?"

"Intelligence," Werner said. "Trends in East German economic policy, trade data, the status of certain officials."

"Not state secrets?"

"No," Werner said. "I won’t give you anything truly sensitive. But the information I can provide should be useful for your analysis of East Germany’s economic situation and policy direction."

"What exactly do you do in East Germany?" Stein asked.

"Commercial Coordination Directorate, Special Procurement Department," Werner said. "I’m mainly responsible for coordinating certain imports and exports."

Stein’s eyes lit up. "Special Procurement for Koko? That would certainly give you access to a lot of interesting things."

He took another sip of coffee, seemingly in thought. The cafe was quiet, with only the low murmur of jazz music.

"Alright," he said at last. "I can offer you protection. But there are a few conditions."

"Name them."

"First, the information you provide must be valuable. Don’t try to fob us off with public or outdated material."

Werner nodded.

"Second, keep a low profile. Your account can’t have overly frequent or large transactions; that would be too conspicuous. The money must be deposited in batches, with each amount kept within a reasonable range."

"Understood."

"Third, do not do anything that could expose our relationship. If you get into trouble in East Germany, we will deny any connection to you."

’That was to be expected. Intelligence agencies never took responsibility for their informants.’

"I understand," he said.

Stein stood up, pulled a business card from his pocket, and placed it on the table. "Call this number when you have news. Remember, we only want useful material."

He turned to leave, then suddenly turned back. "By the way, that account of yours—which bank is it with?"

"I haven’t opened it yet," Werner said. "I was hoping for your recommendation."

Stein thought for a moment. "Deutsche Bank, the West Berlin branch. Open the account under a false name. I’ll put in a good word; they won’t ask too many questions."

"Thank you."

Stein nodded and turned to leave.

The cafe’s doorbell chimed, and he disappeared onto the street.

Werner remained seated, his fingers gripping the business card.

The card had only a phone number and no other information.

He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

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

In August 1964, the weather in East Berlin was already starting to turn cool.

Werner stood at the window of his Koko office, watching the sparse crowd of pedestrians in Alexanderplatz below.

Rain slicked the gray streets, and the windows of the state-run department stores still displayed the same few faded articles of clothing.

More than a year had passed, but it seemed as if nothing in the city had changed.

Werner, however, had changed a great deal.

Since he started manipulating the inner-German trade last year, he had accumulated nearly three hundred thousand West German Marks in his secret West Berlin account.

Every month, by falsifying prices and forging procurement orders, he was able to steadily deposit tens of thousands of Marks into the account.

Stein, for his part, was very cooperative. He never asked many questions, only occasionally requesting some East German economic data or policy trends.

Over the past year, Werner had only given Stein insignificant information—which factory was expanding production, which department had a change in leadership, the general direction of trade data.

This intelligence was both useful and useless, but it was enough for Stein to report to his superiors, and enough to keep Werner’s account safe.

But Werner knew it wasn’t enough.

Three hundred thousand Marks sounded like a lot, but if he really wanted to start over in West Germany—establish a new identity, buy a house, start a business—three hundred thousand was barely enough.

More importantly, he needed to build deeper connections in West Germany. Not just a mid-level BND contact, but a high-ranking figure who could truly help him establish himself there.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his office door.

"Come in," Werner said.

Gunter’s secretary, a thin woman in her thirties with a perpetually professional and cold expression, pushed the door open. "Director Gunter wants to see you in his office. It’s urgent."

Werner glanced at his watch. Three o’clock in the afternoon.

’Gunter summoning me at this hour, and using the word "urgent"... this definitely isn’t a routine business report.’