Chapter 317 - 100: The Trajectory of History

Chapter 317: Chapter 100: The Trajectory of History

The shipyard’s main gate opened a crack, and a middle-aged man in work clothes walked out, holding a megaphone.

"Comrades!" the man’s voice came through the megaphone. "They’ve agreed to negotiate with us, but they’re demanding we return to work first. Our representatives are discussing the terms with them now!"

The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and boos, the sounds all jumbled together.

Werner stared at the man with the megaphone, memorizing his face.

’This is one of the strike leaders.’

’In four years, an even bigger strike will break out in Gdansk, and perhaps this man will show up again.’

He took out a small notebook and quickly jotted down the man’s features: around forty, brown hair, a mustache, a loud voice, and the workers clearly trusted him.

"What are you writing?" the old man next to him suddenly asked.

Werner quickly snapped the notebook shut and stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Nothing, just work notes," he said. "I have to write a report for my company on whether the situation in Gdansk will affect our order deliveries."

The old man’s gaze grew suspicious. "Which company are you really with?"

"An East German one," Werner said frankly. "The Koko Group. We do business with the Gdansk Port Company."

The old man sneered. "East Germans? Then go back and tell your boss that Polish workers aren’t slaves. We want to live good lives, too."

With that, the old man turned and walked away.

Werner didn’t follow him, just took one last look at the shipyard before turning to leave.

He had seen what he came to see: the scale of the strike, the workers’ level of organization, the leaders’ style. This intelligence would be very useful.

And he had confirmed one thing: history was proceeding along the track he remembered.

This strike was only the beginning. In four years, an even bigger storm would come.

’He had to be prepared.’

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

It was late at night when he returned to Warsaw.

Krzysztof was waiting for him in the hotel lobby, holding a large envelope.

"The intelligence you wanted," Krzysztof said, handing him the envelope. "Profiles on the main organizers of the Gdansk strike. It took a lot of contacts to get this, and it cost quite a bit."

"Good work," Werner said, taking the envelope. "I’ll reimburse you for the cost."

He went back to his room, opened the envelope, and spread the documents inside across the table.

Photographs, résumés, diagrams of their social networks... it was all there.

Werner studied each photograph, memorizing the faces.

He knew that some of these people would become Polish heroes in four years. And the file in his hands would be very valuable—whether sold to East Germany’s Stasi or West Germany’s BND.

Now, he just had to wait. Wait for the situation in Poland to stabilize, wait for the value of his hoarded food to appreciate, wait for his assets to be safely transferred to the West.

Everything was going according to plan.

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

On the evening of June 25, Werner was organizing documents in his hotel room when a breaking news report suddenly came on the television.

The Polish Prime Minister, Jaroshevich, appeared on the screen, his expression grave.

"...Given the current special circumstances, the government has decided to cancel the food price hike policy. All commodity prices will be restored to their pre-June 24 levels..."

Werner put down his pen and stared at the television screen.

’It’s happening. The government has conceded.’

He picked up the phone and dialed Krzysztof’s number.

"Did you see the news?" he asked.

"I saw," Krzysztof’s voice was a bit panicked. "Werner, the prices went back down. The goods we bought... on paper, it looks like..."

"We’ve lost money, right?" Werner cut him off. "Don’t panic. This is exactly what I expected."

"But—"

"Jaroslav, listen to me." Werner’s voice was calm. "The prices went back down, but this isn’t the end. It’s the beginning. Low official prices mean no one will be willing to produce or sell at that price. You’re about to see goods become scarcer and scarcer in the stores, until the shelves are completely empty."

The other end of the line went silent.

"At that point, our inventory will be the real gold," Werner continued. "It looks like we’ve taken a loss now, but in three months, six months, we’ll make ten, twenty times our investment."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m sure," Werner said. "Keep holding on to that stock. Don’t sell a single kilogram. Wait for my signal."

"Alright," Krzysztof said. "I trust you."

After hanging up, Werner stood up and walked to the window.

People were already starting to celebrate on the streets of Warsaw, thinking that the cancellation of the price hike policy was a victory.

But Werner knew the real disaster was just beginning.

The prices had been suppressed, but the goods would disappear from the shelves.

In the coming months, even years, the Poles would have money but nothing to buy.

The Black Market would take over everything. A kilogram of butter could be traded for a gold watch, a case of canned meat for the right to live in an apartment.

And the inventory he held would become more precious than gold.

’This was the real business opportunity.’

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

「Three days later,」

Werner returned to East Berlin and went straight to see Gunter.

"How are things in Poland?" Gunter asked.

"It’s chaotic," Werner said. "The strike has been quelled, but the after-effects are severe. The food shortages will last for a long time, and our normal trade channels with Poland will be affected."

"Do you have any recommendations?"

"In the short term, we should reduce our reliance on Polish suppliers," Werner said. "Source more from the Czech Republic and Hungary to spread the risk. Also, I’ve established some new contacts in Warsaw and can get my hands on some scarce goods through gray channels."

Gunter nodded. "Sounds like your trip was well worth it."

"One more thing," Werner said. "I went to Gdansk and met with a few clients. The situation at the port isn’t good. Our orders will likely be delayed in the short term."

"No matter, we have other channels," Gunter said. "By the way, Comrade Anger’s office called. He wants to see you."

Werner’s heart skipped a beat. "See me? Why?"

"I don’t know," Gunter shrugged. "But it can’t be a bad thing. Maybe your performance has been so good lately that he wants to commend you."

Werner nodded, but his mind was racing.

’Anger wouldn’t summon me just for a commendation. There must be something else.’

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

That afternoon, Werner arrived at the seat of East Germany’s highest authority—the Politburo building.

It was a massive, gray building under heavy guard.

Werner showed his identification and passed through three checkpoints before being led to Anger’s office.

Anger was sitting behind a large desk, reading a document.

"Werner." Anger looked up at him and gestured for him to sit. "You’ve earned a great deal of foreign currency for the state these past few years."

"I’m honored to contribute to the state."

Anger stood up, walked to the window, and stood with his back to Werner.

"The situation in Poland. What are your thoughts?" he asked suddenly.

Werner’s heart tightened. ’This was the real purpose of today’s meeting.’

"The workers went on strike, and the government conceded," Werner said cautiously. "But the situation has stabilized now. Comrade Galek handled it decisively."

"Decisively?" Anger turned around and sneered. "He handled it terribly. First he was hardline, then he was forced to concede, and in the end, neither side was satisfied. The workers think they’ve won, so they’ll cause trouble again. The Party thinks he’s weak, and his authority is in tatters."

Werner didn’t respond.

"Do you know why Poland descended into chaos?" Anger asked, staring at him.

"Because... of the food price hikes?"

"No," Anger shook his head. "It’s because they gave the workers too many illusions. They let them think they could change policy through strikes and demonstrations. That illusion is the most dangerous thing of all."

He walked back to his desk and sat down, his gaze stern.

"I will not let East Germany become a second Poland," Anger said. "Our economy has problems, I know that. But we can never let the workers feel they can blackmail the government with strikes. Never."

Werner nodded. He knew Anger meant every word.

’But history would prove that repression and hardline tactics couldn’t solve the problem.’

’In just over a decade, East German workers would take to the streets all the same and tear down the Berlin Wall.’

"I need you to do something for me," Anger said. "You have connections in Poland, and you’ve been to Gdansk. I want you to write a detailed report on the organizers of this strike, their demands, and their sources of funding. I want to know if Western powers are pulling the strings from behind the scenes."

Werner cursed inwardly. ’He’d known Anger summoning him wouldn’t be for anything good.’

"I’ll do my best, Comrade Anger," he said. "But my connections in Poland are mainly commercial. Political intelligence might be—"

"You have your ways," Anger cut him off. "Gunter says you’re a man who finds a way. I trust you."

Werner knew this wasn’t a request. It was an order.

"Understood," he said. "I’ll submit the report as soon as possible."

"Good." Anger nodded in satisfaction. "Werner, you’re a smart man. You know what to do and when to do it. Continue serving the state, and you will be well rewarded."

"Thank you, Comrade Anger."

Werner breathed a sigh of relief as he walked out of the Politburo building.

Anger’s words carried a cold resolve. His refusal to let East Germany become a second Poland meant that any dissent, any resistance, would be ruthlessly crushed.

But history could not be changed by repression.

Werner lit a cigarette and looked up at the gray Berlin sky.

The warning bells had rung in Poland. More were sure to follow.