Chapter 310 - 93: Preparing to Whitewash

Chapter 310: Chapter 93: Preparing to Whitewash

Schmidt’s aide was named Helmut Wegner. He was in his early forties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a sharp suit.

They met at an unremarkable cafe near the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

"Mr. Betelich." Wegner stood and shook his hand, his grip perfectly measured. "I’ve heard a great deal about you."

"You’re too kind." Werner sat down and took the menu from the waiter. "I’m just a businessman."

"A businessman?" Wegner smiled. "It’s not every day you meet a businessman who can earn East Germany tens of millions of Marks in foreign currency each year."

Werner opened the menu, his eyes landing on the Black Forest cake. "Mr. Wegner, we’re both adults. Let’s not beat around the bush. Mr. Brandt stepped down because of that spy scandal. What is your new government’s attitude toward the Eastern Policy?"

Wegner put down his coffee cup, his eyes behind his lenses fixed on Werner. "Chancellor Schmidt’s attitude is very clear—continue détente, but be more pragmatic. The Guenther Guillaume affair was an embarrassment for us, but the general direction of the Eastern Policy will not change. Mr. Brandt’s path was correct, but his methods were too idealistic. We need tangible results, numbers we can present to the voters."

"Political prisoners?"

"Political prisoners," Wegner nodded. "And economic cooperation. Mr. Schmidt believes that the foundation of the relationship between East and West Germany should be mutual benefit, not unilateral aid."

Werner speared a piece of cake with his fork. "How would that work, specifically?"

Wegner took a file from his briefcase. "We want to standardize and scale up the trade of political prisoners. The current process is too chaotic and inefficient. We want to establish a fixed mechanism—you provide a list, we review it, the prices are transparent, and the procedure is standardized. Most importantly—" He paused. "We want to dramatically expand the scale of the trade."

"Expand by how much?"

"Tenfold." Wegner pushed up his glasses. "Right now, about a few hundred people are released each year. We hope to expand that to several thousand."

Werner’s hand paused. "Tenfold? Mr. Wegner, that’s not a small number."

"We know," said Wegner. "That’s why we’re willing to offer appropriate compensation. We’ll price them by category—fifty thousand Marks for a regular political prisoner, one hundred thousand for an intellectual, and high-ranking officials to be negotiated separately. Plus, an accompanying economic aid package—low-interest loans, industrial equipment, technology transfers."

"Sounds like a factory assembly line," Werner said, flipping through the file.

"It is." Wegner made no attempt to hide it. "Humanitarianism also requires efficiency. Dragging things out benefits no one. Besides, Mr. Schmidt needs to produce results within two years to prove to the voters that the Eastern Policy is effective."

Werner closed the file. "Trading economic benefits for political prisoners?"

"Trading for humanitarian achievements," Wegner corrected him. "Mr. Werner, we both know what this is. But for public relations, it needs to be packaged correctly. Mr. Schmidt wants this to be both substantive and presentable. A tenfold increase in scale means we can show the public concrete, visible results—thousands of families reunited, thousands of people gaining their freedom."

Werner leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. "Mr. Wegner, I appreciate your frankness. But you know this isn’t something I can decide on my own. A tenfold increase means the process has to be redesigned and authority reallocated. I need to report back and get the approval of my superiors."

"Of course." Wegner stood up. "But I have faith in Mr. Werner’s influence. I hear Mr. Anger trusts you a great deal?"

Werner didn’t answer, just smiled.

The two parted ways at the cafe entrance. Wegner got into a black Mercedes-Benz, which turned into a rain-slicked street and quickly disappeared.

Werner walked over. "How did it go?"

"Very professional," Werner said, exhaling a puff of smoke. "And very cold-blooded."

"Cold-blooded?"

"When he talked about people, it was like he was talking about cargo," Werner said, stubbing out his cigarette. "Pricing by category, standardized procedures. Brandt at least pretended to care about human rights. This one doesn’t even bother pretending."

Werner shrugged. "Isn’t that a good thing? Pragmatic people are easier to deal with."

"It is a good thing," Werner said, turning and walking toward the parking lot. "For me, it’s a very good thing."

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

After returning to his hotel, Werner made a phone call.

"Margaret, it’s me."

"Werner?" Margaret’s voice came through the line. "Calling so late. Is something urgent?"

"I need to ask you for a favor." Werner lit a cigarette. "How many officials do you know over here in Bonn?"

Margaret was silent for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"The political prisoner trade is about to be scaled up. More West German officials will be handling it." Werner lowered his voice. "I want to know who these people are, their backgrounds, and their—weaknesses."

"You want to build personal relationships?" There was a hint of amusement in Margaret’s voice.

"You could put it that way."

There were a few seconds of silence on the line, then Margaret laughed. "Werner, you really are something else. Alright, I can help with this. The West Berlin Chamber of Commerce deals with Bonn a lot. I know quite a few people, and I hear quite a few things."

"For instance?"

"For instance, there’s a deputy director in the Ministry of the Interior named Herman Krause. He’s responsible for approving the paperwork for political prisoners," Margaret said. "He’s divorced, raising his daughter alone. She’s studying medicine at Heidelberg University. The tuition is a considerable expense."

Werner jotted the name down on a piece of paper. "Anymore?"

"There’s a department head at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Friedrich Schwartz, who coordinates relations between East and West Germany," Margaret continued. "He likes to collect watches. Word is he has dozens of luxury watches at home, all saved up for bit by bit from his salary."

"Collecting watches is not a cheap hobby."

"You can say that again," Margaret laughed. "Then there’s a section chief at the Ministry of Finance who oversees foreign currency settlements for trade between East and West Germany. His position is crucial; he can meddle with how every sum of money moves. This man has no particular hobbies, but his son is doing business in Hamburg and is constantly having cash flow problems."

Werner scribbled quickly. "How do you know all this in such detail?"

"How could I do business in West Berlin if I didn’t?" Margaret chuckled. "The Chamber of Commerce has a lot of social functions. After a few drinks, this kind of information naturally comes out. Besides, I’m in the import-export business, so I have to deal with these officials too. I make a note of who’s short on cash, who has a hobby, and who’s having family troubles."

"Excellent," Werner said. "Can you arrange for me to meet them? Privately, unofficially."

"Of course." Margaret readily agreed. "There’s a private club on the banks of the Rhine River; I’m a member. The place is quiet and secluded, perfect for this sort of thing. I can invite them in the name of a Chamber of Commerce event, and you can attend as a representative of the East German business community. It would look perfectly natural."

"When?"

"Give me a few days," Margaret said. "I need to confirm their schedules."

"I’ll be counting on you."

"Don’t mention it." Margaret paused. "Werner, you’re playing a very big game."

"I have no choice," Werner said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "The Berlin Wall won’t be there forever. I need people on the West German side, people who can speak for me when the time is right."

"Wise," Margaret said. "I’ll help you. If you succeed, it will benefit me as well."