Chapter 318 - 101: Investment in Dissidents

Chapter 318: Chapter 101: Investment in Dissidents

That evening, Werner returned to the secret apartment and called Margaret.

"Is the company registered?" he asked.

"It’s done," Margaret said. "Baltic Sea Trade Co., Ltd. It’s registered in Hamburg with me as the legal representative, but all the documents for actual control are handled just as you said. The accounts in Zurich and Liechtenstein have also been opened. I’ll give you the numbers later."

"Very good," Werner said. "Over the next month, I’ll be transferring money into those two accounts. The transfers might be frequent, but the amounts will be small each time so they don’t attract attention."

"Understood," Margaret said.

"What about the apartment in Munich?"

"I’m working on it," Margaret said. "I found a nice place in the city center. It’s a two-bedroom with a great view. The price is reasonable, too—one hundred and twenty thousand Marks."

"Sounds good. Buy it."

"I’ve already paid the deposit," Margaret said. "By the way, Werner, I’ve been thinking about something."

"What is it?"

"You now have seven companies in West Germany, and it’ll soon be eight. You have accounts in Switzerland and Liechtenstein, and properties in Munich, Hamburg, and Frankfurt," Margaret said. "But these are all assets, not connections. If that day ever comes, you’ll need more than just money and companies. You’ll need people who know you, trust you, and are willing to do business with you."

"You mean..."

"You need a real identity in the West German business community. Not just a company owner on paper, but a real, flesh-and-blood businessman that everyone knows."

Werner took a drag from his cigarette, mulling over her words.

"Do you have any specific suggestions?"

"Join some chambers of commerce and trade associations," Margaret said. "In the name of your West German companies, join the Hamburg Chamber of Commerce and the Frankfurt Trade Association. Attend their events, donate a little money, and show your face. Let people get used to seeing you, to know you’re a potential business partner."

"Won’t that be too high-profile?"

"No," Margaret said. "Trade between East and West Germany is a hot topic right now; a lot of people are involved. You’ll just be one of them. Besides, you can maintain a low-key high profile—never be the main attraction, but always be present."

Werner nodded. She had a point.

"Get started on it," he finally said. "Take it slow. Don’t attract any attention."

"Understood."

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

East Berlin was exceptionally cold in November 1976.

Werner stood at the window of the Koko Building, watching the pedestrians hurry along the gray streets below, each with their neck hunched down against the biting wind.

Black smoke from the chimneys diffused under the low-hanging clouds, blanketing the entire city in a gray, oppressive haze.

"The situation in Poland reminds me of the ’53 uprising," Gunter said in a low voice from behind him. "I saw the tanks roll onto the streets with my own eyes back then."

"Do you think it will spread here?" Werner asked.

"Who knows." Gunter sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette. "Anger is tougher than Ublis, but he’s also smarter. He knows high-pressure tactics alone aren’t enough, which is why he needs us at Koko to work our asses off earning foreign currency, to give the common people a taste of the good life." He took a drag, smoke rising slowly into the air. "As long as there’s still bread and sausage on the table, most people won’t take to the streets."

"Those striking Polish workers just want bread, too." Werner sat down behind his desk. "The people I saw in Gdansk... the looks on their faces..."

"Don’t overthink it," Gunter cut him off. "We just need to do our jobs. Earning more foreign currency so the state can import food and consumer goods is the greatest contribution we can make to stability." He stood up and patted Werner’s shoulder. "Your operation in Poland was beautifully handled. Anger singled you out for praise at the Central Committee meeting."

"I only did what was necessary," Werner said politely.

"What was necessary?" Gunter laughed. "Werner, after all your years at Koko, you think I don’t know you? You never just do what’s necessary. You always do more, think further ahead." He walked to the door and glanced back at Werner. "Keep it up. In times like these, a man who knows how to make money will never be short of opportunities."

After the door closed, Werner sat in his chair, lost in thought for a moment. Then he picked up the phone and dialed Anna’s number.

"It’s me," Werner said curtly. "I need some information. Robert H. Harveyman, and those he’s in close contact with. The more detailed, the better."

Anna was silent on the other end for a few seconds. "Robert H. Harveyman? The famous dissident? What are you planning?"

"Making an investment."

"Werner, those people are under heavy surveillance. If you make contact with them..."

"That’s why I need your intelligence. I need to know which ones are worth investing in, which are Stasi informants, and which are the true idealists."

There was another stretch of silence, then Anna said softly, "You’re insane."

"Maybe," Werner chuckled. "But you’ll help me, won’t you?"

A sigh came through the receiver. "I’ll get you the information. Werner, be careful."

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

Three days later, in the evening, Werner arrived at Father Weber’s church.

The priest was preparing for evening prayer. Seeing Werner enter, he nodded for him to wait a moment.

After the last parishioner left, the priest locked the main doors and led Werner into a small room in the back. The room held a simple wooden table, a few chairs, and a crucifix on the wall.

"Werner, what brings you here this time?" The priest poured him a glass of water and sat across from him. Father Weber was in his seventies. His gaunt face was covered in wrinkles, but his eyes remained gentle yet firm.

"Father, I’d like to ask for your help," Werner said, getting straight to the point. "I want to meet some people."

"What kind of people?"

"Dissidents," Werner said calmly. "Like Robert H. Harveyman, or other intellectuals you know who are critical of the system."

The priest’s hand froze in mid-air before he slowly set down the glass. "Werner, do you know what you are saying?"

"I’m perfectly aware," Werner said, looking the priest in the eye. "I know you’ve been helping those people—giving them places to meet, helping them contact the Western Church, sometimes even hiding books for them. Don’t worry, I’m not here to cause you trouble."

The priest was silent for a long time before sighing. "What do you want?"

"I want to help them," Werner said. "I want to provide them with funds, help them contact the West, and, if needed, help them resolve certain... practical problems."

"Why?" The priest stared at him. "Werner, you’re a high-ranking official at Koko. You’ve earned so much money for the regime. Now you suddenly claim you want to help dissidents? How can you expect me to believe you?"

Werner had anticipated this question.

"Father, do you remember when we first met?"

"In 1961, right after the Berlin Wall went up," the priest nodded. "You said you wanted to help the Church with its charity work."

"You didn’t trust me then, either," Werner smiled. "But we ended up working together for over a decade. How many families have we helped reunite? How many political prisoners have we sent to West Germany?"

"That was different." The priest shook his head. "That was humanitarian work, and it was legal. But dissidents..."

"They need help too," Werner interrupted. "Father, do you know what I saw in Poland? I saw tens of thousands of workers taking to the streets, just to be able to eat. I saw them get suppressed and arrested, but their discontent didn’t vanish." He paused. "East Germany seems stable now, but who knows? Maybe one day, the people here will take to the streets as well."

"So you want to make preparations ahead of time?" the priest asked, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Secure an escape route for yourself in case of a potential upheaval?"

"I won’t deny that’s one of the reasons," Werner said frankly. "But more importantly, Father, I’ve seen what these dissidents are doing. They’re discussing environmental protection, human rights, how to make this country better. They don’t want to overthrow everything; they just want change."

"And you think they can succeed?"

"I don’t know." Werner shook his head. "But I do know that if the regime really does collapse one day, these people will be the foundation of the reconstruction. And I, a businessman who profited under the old regime, will need friends in the new era."

The priest was silent again for a long time. Finally, he spoke slowly, "Werner, you’ve always been a pragmatist. Everything you do has a clear purpose and is precisely calculated."

"This time is no different," Werner admitted.

"But you know," the priest began with a wry smile, "sometimes I think that in this twisted era, we might need someone exactly like you. The idealists have courage and conviction, but they lack money, resources, and practical know-how. You have all of that."

"So, are you willing to help?"

The priest stood up, walked to the window, and gazed out at the dim street.

"Harviman is a good man, a true idealist. He was once a Party member who resisted the Nazis and helped build this country. But when he saw the regime betray its founding principles, he chose to speak the truth. He’s in a difficult position now. His post at the Science Academy is gone, his pension has been docked, and his children face discrimination at school. But he persists, organizing reading groups and writing critical articles."

"I can help him," Werner said.

"But what if you betray him?" The priest looked Werner straight in the eye. "If you’re just baiting a hook for the Stasi, then I’ll be an accomplice."

Werner stood and walked over to the priest. "Father, I swear in the name of God that I will not betray them. All I want is a possibility for the future—the possibility that when the regime changes, someone will be there to speak up for me." He paused. "And to be honest, helping them is simply the right thing to do, isn’t it? Even if my motives are entirely selfish."

The priest looked into Werner’s eyes, as if trying to see into his very soul.

At last, he sighed. "I will arrange for you to meet Harviman. But Werner, remember, if you harm these people, God will judge you."

"If that day ever comes, I will willingly accept His judgment," Werner said. "But before that happens, let me help them."