Chapter 322 - 105: Trip to South Africa

Chapter 322: Chapter 105: Trip to South Africa

Werner sat down across from him and accepted the proffered coffee. The coffee was scalding, but he took a sip anyway, letting the heat chase away the chill in his bones.

"You at Koko do good work," Sokolov began, getting straight to the point. "Over the years, you’ve helped the Warsaw Pact Organization procure a great deal of Western equipment and technology, bypassing those damn embargoes."

"It is our duty to serve the great socialist family," Werner said politely.

"Spare me the platitudes." Sokolov waved a dismissive hand. "I know you’ve made a killing, too. But it doesn’t matter. As long as the job gets done beautifully, who the hell cares how much you make?" He tapped his cigar on the ashtray. "Now, I have a new assignment for you."

Werner sat up straighter, waiting.

"NATO is upgrading its nuclear arsenal, and we must respond." Sokolov’s tone turned serious. "In the coming years, the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact Countries must significantly increase their military capabilities. As the front line, you in East Germany will need even more—tanks, planes, missiles, and the raw materials to build them."

The bespectacled civilian official beside him pushed a list over.

Werner took it and looked. It was densely packed with a list of various materials: tungsten, cobalt, uranium, titanium, rare earths... Each item was marked with a required quantity.

"Most of these things have to be imported from third-world countries," Sokolov said. "Mozambique, Angola, Zambia, and also South Africa."

"South Africa?" Werner looked up. "That’s an apartheid regime. The West is sanctioning them."

"That’s precisely why they’re willing to do business with us." Sokolov sneered. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Comrade Betelich. South Africa has the world’s richest mineral resources—Gold, diamonds, uranium ore, rare metals. They need foreign currency, we need materials. It’s a win-win."

Werner looked down at the list, his mind racing.

’South Africa, Johannesburg... that country full of contradictions—on one side, prosperous cities under white rule; on the other, the despair of black townships.’

As a Transmigrator, he knew the apartheid system there would hold on for another decade or so before collapsing.

"We need you to take a trip to Johannesburg," Sokolov said. "Negotiate with the South African arms dealers and establish a stable supply channel. This is a huge deal, worth at least ten million US Dollars."

"Ten million?" Werner let out a low whistle. "That’s no small sum."

"That’s why we’re sending you." Sokolov stared at him. "I’ve reviewed your record at Koko. Smuggling precision instruments from West Germany, acquiring optical equipment from Switzerland, shipping chemical raw materials from Austria... Every job has been clean and efficient. This time will be no different. I need you to get it done."

"And the commission?" Werner asked directly.

Sokolov grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. "You Germans are certainly direct. Two percent of the total transaction value. Two hundred thousand US Dollars, wired to an account of your choosing."

’Two hundred thousand US Dollars... at the Black Market exchange rate, that would convert to at least five hundred thousand West German Marks. That’s enough money to open another two secret accounts in Switzerland.’

"Deal." Werner extended his hand.

Sokolov grasped his hand, his grip powerful. "Don’t disappoint me, Comrade Betelich. If you handle this mission well, you’ll get all the similar deals in the future."

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

「Three days later」

Werner sat on a plane bound for Johannesburg.

The flight had a layover in Vienna, then went through Cairo before finally reaching South Africa. The entire journey would take over twenty hours.

He sat in a window seat, flipping through the files in his hand.

There were three major arms dealers in South Africa. The largest was the African Mining Group, whose boss was a man named Peter van der Meij, a South African of Dutch descent who controlled several large mines around Johannesburg.

The man had a complex background.

On the surface, he was a mining tycoon, but in reality, he had intricate connections with the South African Military and intelligence agencies.

He sold minerals on the Black Market and smuggled weapons to guerilla fighters—he would do anything as long as there was money to be made.

Werner put the file away.

The plane descended through the clouds, the roar of the engines filling the cabin.

Werner gazed out the window. The sea of clouds shimmered with golden light under the sun.

**********

The air in Johannesburg was dry and hot.

As Werner stepped out of the airport, he was immediately enveloped by a wave of heat. This was the Southern Hemisphere, and it was summer. The temperature was over thirty degrees Celsius.

A black Mercedes-Benz was parked by the roadside. The driver was a white man in a neat suit, but there was a distinct bulge at his waist—he was carrying a gun.

"Mr. Betelich?" the driver asked in English.

"That’s me."

"Mr. Van der Meij sent me to pick you up. Please get in."

As the car drove into the city, Werner sized up the metropolis through the window.

Johannesburg was more prosperous than he had imagined—skyscrapers filled the skyline, the streets were wide and clean, and shop windows were filled with all sorts of goods.

But behind the prosperity, Werner also saw the other side: heavily armed police stood on street corners, black people could only walk on designated sidewalks, and the bus stops for whites and blacks were separate.

The scars of apartheid were everywhere.

After half an hour’s drive, the car finally stopped in front of a luxurious villa.

The villa was three stories tall, surrounded by a neatly manicured lawn and garden. Two bodyguards stood at the entrance, pistols hanging from their waists.

"Mr. Van der Meij is waiting for you in the study," the driver said, leading Werner inside.

The study was on the second floor. The walls were adorned with hunting trophies—the heads of an antelope and a lion, and even a massive elephant tusk. The bookshelves were lined with all sorts of books, from mining technology to military strategy.

Peter van der Meij sat behind a large desk.

He was a man of about fifty, powerfully built, with a few scars on his sun-darkened face and a pair of blue eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. He was wearing a khaki hunting suit and holding a glass of whiskey.

"Mr. Schmidt, you’ve had a long journey," Van der Meij said in fluent German, standing up to shake Werner’s hand.

His hand was rough, and his grip was strong enough to crush Werner’s bones.

"Mr. Van der Meij, I’ve heard much about you," Werner said, calmly withdrawing his hand.

"Sit." Van der Meij sat back down and poured Werner a glass. "Here, try this. The best single malt whisky from Scotland. In this damn country, it’s not easy to get a good drink."

Werner took the glass and had a sip. The whisky was strong, but it was indeed excellent.

"I hear you folks in East Germany want to buy something," Van der Meij said, getting straight to the point. "Moscow has already been in touch. Rare metals, right? Tungsten, cobalt, uranium, and titanium."

"That’s right." Werner took a list from his briefcase. "These are the specific quantities and specifications."

Van der Meij took the list, glanced at it, and then laughed. "You have quite an appetite. All of this together is worth at least fifteen million US Dollars."

"Moscow said ten million," Werner said calmly.

"That’s the wholesale price." Van der Meij tossed the list back on the desk. "Mr. Schmidt, you’re a businessman. You should know the rules. This stuff isn’t easy to get. It has to be transported from the mines, we have to evade United Nations sanctions, bribe customs, and arrange special transport. Every step costs money."

"So what’s your price?"

"Fifteen million, not a penny less." Van der Meij stared at Werner. "And I want half of it settled in Gold, the other half in US Dollars."

Werner fell silent.

’Fifteen million US Dollars... that’s five million over Moscow’s budget.’

’If I agree to this price, I’ll definitely get an earful when I get back. But if the negotiations fall through, this whole trip will have been for nothing.’