Chapter 291 - 74: Going to Moscow

Chapter 291: Chapter 74: Going to Moscow

"Not for now," Anna said. "My mission in West Germany is complete. They have no reason to be suspicious over there."

"That’s good."

"But..." Anna paused. "Werner, we have to be more careful from now on. Von Brown is no fool. After ’Autumn Leaves’ failed, he’s been investigating nonstop. He hasn’t found anything yet, but he won’t give up."

Werner nodded. "I know."

Anna looked at him, her eyes filled with worry. "Besides, your connections in West Germany... Won’t Von Brown start to suspect that you have too much influence there?"

Werner fell silent.

’This is indeed a problem.’

"I’ll be careful," Werner said. "For a while, I’ll reduce the frequency of my contact with West Germany."

Anna nodded, but the worry in her eyes didn’t fade.

"Werner," she said, "this path we’re on is getting more and more dangerous."

"I know."

"But I don’t regret it." Anna squeezed his hand. "As long as I can be with you, I’m not afraid of any danger."

Werner held her hand tightly.

Outside the window, the night had grown deep.

The whistle of a distant train pierced the silent night sky.

The two of them sat like that, neither speaking another word.

They both knew the road ahead was long, with more dangers awaiting them.

But at least for now, they were still together.

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

「August 12, 1970. Moscow.」

Werner stood in the square outside the Soviet Union’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs building, watching the red star on the Kremlin glitter in the summer sun in the distance.

He had an East German "Berlin" brand cigarette dangling from his lips, the smoke curling before his eyes.

"Werner, it’s time to go in." Gunter poked his head out of a black Volga sedan.

Today was the day the West German Foreign Minister, Schel, and the Soviet Foreign Minister, Gromyko, would sign the Treaty of Moscow.

As representatives of East Germany’s Koko, Werner and Gunter were invited to observe the ceremony—ostensibly to "witness the great victory of the socialist camp," but in reality, to sniff out business opportunities.

The signing ceremony was held in a lavishly decorated hall.

Werner sat in the back row, watching the West German Foreign Minister Schel and the Soviet Foreign Minister Gromyko take their seats at a long table on the stage.

Both old men had the standard look of career diplomats—impeccable suits, solemn expressions.

"A historic moment," Gunter whispered in his ear. "West Germany is recognizing the Oder-Neisse line as the Polish-German Border and acknowledging the post-war European order."

Werner said nothing, his eyes fixed on the fountain pen being used for the signing.

’He knew that what this pen was writing today wasn’t just the names of two foreign ministers, but a turning point in the entire European Cold War landscape.’

’West Germany was using moral atonement to buy its entry ticket into Eastern Europe, and that ticket would slowly corrode the very foundation of East Germany’s existence.’

’East Germany had always proclaimed itself an "anti-fascist state" and West Germany the "successor to the Nazis." But if West Germany could whitewash itself into a "penitent" through apologies and reparations, what would East Germany have left to prove its own legitimacy?’

’Ublis and his cronies hadn’t yet realized that this was a one-two punch of West German Marks and a moral offensive.’

At the reception after the ceremony, Werner moved through the crowd with a glass of vodka in hand.

He needed to find the right people—those who could help him open up the Polish market.

"Werner Betelich?" a voice with a German accent said from behind him.

Werner turned to see a man in his forties, dressed in an outdated suit with a slightly crooked tie.

’A Pole,’ Werner identified him at a glance. ’Only a Pole would wear a suit as casually as a work uniform.’

"I’m Jan Kowalski, from the Polish Ministry of Foreign Trade." The man extended his hand. "I hear you’re the trade genius from East Germany’s Koko."

Werner shook his hand. "I wouldn’t say genius. I just know how to do a little business."

"We need people who know how to do business." Jan lowered his voice, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "The treaty’s been signed, so trade between Poland and West Germany is about to open up. But right now, we in Poland..." He paused, a bitter smile on his face. "We’re drowning in foreign debt."

Werner raised an eyebrow. "How much?"

"One billion US Dollars," Jan spat out the number. "It’s all owed to Western banks. All Warsaw can think about right now is how to get hard currency to pay it back."

Werner lit a cigarette and took a slow drag.

’A billion US Dollars in foreign debt, for a country the size of Poland, was already a fatal burden.’

’This meant Warsaw would loosen many regulations. As long as they could get West German Marks or US Dollars, anything was negotiable.’

"What are you trying to say?" Werner asked.

Jan took a step closer. "I know East Germany needs Western technology and equipment—precision machine tools, electronic components, special materials. But the Baltic Union agreement restricts exports, so you can’t buy them directly from West Germany."

Werner narrowed his eyes. "So?"

"So you go through Poland." Jan lowered his voice. "The goods from West Germany are shipped to Gdansk, given some simple processing or repackaging in Poland, slapped with a ’Made in Poland’ label, and then sold to you in East Germany. The Baltic Union watches direct trade from West Germany to East Germany, but it won’t carefully check goods from Poland to East Germany."

Werner exhaled a cloud of smoke, his mind racing.

’The logic was sound. Although Poland was also within the Baltic Union’s surveillance scope, enforcement was nowhere near as strict as it was for West Germany.’

’Besides, trade between member states of the Economic Mutual Aid Committee was already frequent. Who would ask too many questions about a shipment of goods from Poland to East Germany?’

"What kind of goods can you get?" Werner asked.

"Anything you can order from West Germany, we can help you ’launder’ it," Jan said. "Five-axis machine tools, integrated circuits, high-precision optical instruments—you name it, we’ll do it."

Werner flicked the ash from his cigarette. "And the price?"

"For each transaction, we take a fifteen percent commission, settled in West German Marks," Jan said. "And you have to guarantee the payments arrive on time. We’re in desperate need of hard currency right now."

Werner leaned against the wall, staring at Jan for a few seconds. "I want to meet your key person. Not a mid-level guy like you, but someone who can make the final decision."

Jan smiled. "I’ve already arranged it."

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

「December 3, 1970. Warsaw.」

As the plane landed at Warsaw Chopin Airport, Werner looked through the window at a gray, gloomy sky and a dilapidated terminal. Winter came early in Poland; a thin layer of snow already covered the ground.

Jan was waiting for him outside the airport, standing next to a beat-up Warszawa-brand car.

"Welcome to Poland, Comrade Werner. The car isn’t great, but it runs."

"As long as it runs." Werner tossed his luggage into the trunk. "I’m not here on vacation."

The car drove into downtown Warsaw, and Werner watched the streetscape from the window.

’Poland was even poorer than East Germany. Post-war reconstructed buildings were mixed with still-unrepaired ruins from the war. The people on the streets wore heavy overcoats, their faces etched with a weary numbness.’

"The Deputy Minister of Foreign Trade, Maciej, is waiting for you."

The car stopped in front of a Soviet-style building. Jan led Werner up to the fourth floor and knocked on a heavy wooden door.

A man in his fifties was sitting in the room. His hair was salt-and-pepper, and he had deep bags under his eyes, but his gaze was sharp.

He motioned for Werner to sit, then poured three cups of coffee himself.

"Maciej Duda, Deputy Minister of Foreign Trade," he said in fluent German.