Chapter 316 - 99: The Strike Frontline

Chapter 316: Chapter 99: The Strike Frontline

The car stopped at the entrance of the Vistula River Hotel. This was one of the best hotels in Warsaw, exclusively for foreign guests and high-ranking officials. Two plainclothes officers stood at the entrance, their eyes warily sizing up everyone who entered or exited.

Werner got out of the car, briefcase in hand, and walked into the lobby.

Krzysztof was already waiting there. The Polish man, in his thirties, was pale, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like he hadn’t slept well in days.

"Werner." Krzysztof hurried over and shook his hand. "You’re finally here."

"How’s the situation?"

"A complete mess," Krzysztof said in a low voice. "Dozens of people have died in Gdansk, but the government is still taking a hard line. Galek gave a speech calling the strike a ’counter-revolutionary riot’ that must be suppressed. But the workers aren’t buying it; they’re still on strike."

"What’s the status of the food procurement?"

"I’ve handled part of it." Krzysztof took a stack of invoices from his briefcase. "I contacted five wholesalers and bought two hundred tons of canned meat, one hundred tons of butter, and fifty tons of sugar. But the prices are 30% higher than usual, and they all demand cash. No checks."

"No problem." Werner took the invoices and glanced through them quickly. "Have you found warehouses?"

"Found three," Krzysztof said. "One in the suburbs of Warsaw, two in Lodz. They’re all cold storage facilities, suitable for long-term storage."

"Excellent." Werner nodded. "Keep buying. Buy as much as you can. The prices may have gone up, but we’re playing the long game with these goods."

"For how long?"

"At least half a year," Werner said.

Krzysztof nodded.

"There’s also the matter of currency exchange," Werner said. "I have five hundred thousand zlotys that I need to exchange for West German Marks. Have you found someone?"

"I have," said Krzysztof. "But the exchange rate is terrible. The official rate is one to four, but the Black Market is already at one to seven, and it’s still climbing."

"Exchange it," he said decisively. "One to seven it is. Do it immediately."

Krzysztof hesitated. "Werner, maybe we should wait a bit longer. Perhaps the rate will—"

"It won’t," Werner said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It will only get worse. Trust me."

Krzysztof looked at him, finally letting out a sigh. "Alright, I’ll arrange it tonight."

"One more thing." Werner took a piece of paper from his briefcase and handed it to Krzysztof. "There are a few names on here. Help me find out where they are and what they’re doing now."

Krzysztof took the paper, glanced at it, and his expression changed.

"Werner, these people... they’re all leaders of the Gdansk strike. What do you want intel on them for?"

Werner looked at him and said slowly, "I just want to understand the people leading this movement. That’s all."

Krzysztof stared at him, his gaze complicated.

"Who are you planning to sell this intel to? East Germany? Or West Germany?"

Werner didn’t answer. He just said, "You only need to do the digging. Don’t worry about the rest."

Krzysztof was silent for a long time before finally folding the paper and stuffing it into his pocket.

"I’ll do my best," he said. "But Gdansk is under martial law right now. It’ll be hard to get information."

"I know." Werner patted his shoulder. "That’s why I came to you. You’re the most reliable."

Krzysztof gave a wry smile, then turned and left the lobby.

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

That evening, Werner sat alone in his hotel room, looking out at the Warsaw nightscape.

In the distance, there were still scattered crowds on the streets, and the sounds of chanting and sirens could be heard intermittently. The entire city was like a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding.

He lit a cigarette, picked up the phone on the desk, and dialed a number in West Berlin.

"Hello?" It was Margaret Schneider’s voice on the other end.

"It’s me," Werner said. "You’ve heard about the situation in Poland, I assume?"

"I have," said Margaret. "It’s all over the front pages of the West German newspapers. You’re in Warsaw now?"

"I am."

"You’ve got a lot of nerve," Margaret said. "Things could erupt over there at any moment. What are you doing there?"

"Business, and maintaining client relationships," Werner said lightly. "I have a few important clients in Gdansk. I need to go check on the situation."

"Gdansk? Didn’t people die there?"

"That’s why I have to go," Werner said. "Margaret, I need you to do a few things for me. First, register a new company in Hamburg. The name is... Baltic Sea Trade Co., Ltd. Use your name, but give me the actual controlling rights."

"Another company?" Margaret said. "You already have seven companies in West Germany."

"Not enough," Werner said. "I need more channels to diversify my assets. Second, contact that banker in Zurich for me, the one who helped me open the last account. I need to open two more accounts, one in Switzerland and one in Liechtenstein."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds.

"You’re accelerating the transfer of your assets," Margaret said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

"Yes," Werner didn’t deny it. "Over the next while, I’ll be transferring money to the West in increments. More companies, more accounts—it’s safer."

"Fine, I’ll get it done."

"Also, buy me another apartment in Munich. Use the new company’s name, but give the keys to me."

"Another apartment?"

"It never hurts to have another place to stay," Werner said.

"Alright," Margaret said. "But Werner, be careful. Things are really chaotic in Poland. Don’t get into trouble."

"I will."

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

The next morning, Werner left the hotel and had the driver Krzysztof had found take him to Gdansk.

"To Gdansk?" The driver was startled. "It’s still under martial law over there. It’s very dangerous."

"I know," Werner said. "But I have a few clients there, and I have to confirm their situation."

This wasn’t entirely an excuse. He had another objective: to see the scale of the strike and its leaders with his own eyes. That kind of intelligence would be very valuable, whether sold to the Stasi or the BND.

More importantly, he needed to confirm one thing: whether this strike would truly unfold as it did in his memory.

If it did, then his plans for Poland over the next four years would have a clear direction.

After a five-hour drive, the car finally arrived in Gdansk at dusk.

The Baltic Sea port city was shrouded in a gray haze. Soldiers and militia patrolled the streets everywhere, and barricades blocked the main roads.

The car stopped near the Lenin Shipyard. Werner got out, lit a cigarette, and stood on a street corner, observing.

The shipyard’s main gate was shut tight, with a line of soldiers standing guard, their weapons loaded.

But through the iron bars of the gate, he could see a dense crowd gathered in the yard—the workers hadn’t left.

Werner walked closer slowly, blending in with the crowd of onlookers.

"What are they doing?" he asked an old man next to him in Polish.

The old man glanced at him and said warily, "You’re not from around here, are you?"

"I’m from Warsaw," Werner said. "Here on business to see a client. At a shipping company."

The old man hesitated for a moment, but finally spoke up. "The workers are holding a meeting, discussing their next move. The government agreed to lower prices, but they’re not satisfied. They want the government to release the arrested, and to investigate the shootings that killed the workers."

Werner nodded and continued to watch the shipyard.

Just then, a commotion rippled through the crowd.