Chapter 339 - 122: Being Followed

Chapter 339: Chapter 122: Being Followed

Werner’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his mind racing.

’Who’s tailing me? The Polish secret police? The Soviet KGB? Or... the CIA?’

’If it were the Poles or the Soviets, they’d already know my official identity and wouldn’t be tailing me like this.’ The car was just following, neither closing in nor attempting to intercept.

This was more like surveillance from a Western intelligence agency.

Werner immediately recalled Novak’s warning: the CIA was monitoring high-ranking military officials. He had just met with Novak and might have stumbled right into their surveillance net.

He had to lose the tail.

Werner sped up and turned onto a side street. The car behind him followed, closing the distance slightly.

Ahead lay Warsaw’s Old Town, its narrow, complex streets forming a maze. Werner was very familiar with the area; he had been here many times over the past few years.

He suddenly switched off his headlights, yanked the steering wheel, and shot into an even narrower alley. The side of the car scraped against the wall with a harsh screech, but he couldn’t be bothered.

The car behind hesitated for a moment before following him in.

Werner made several consecutive turns, then suddenly slammed on the brakes, parking the car sideways to block the alley. He jumped out and ducked into the doorway of a nearby building.

A few seconds later, the other car came speeding around the corner. Seeing the car blocking the road, the driver braked hard, but still crashed into it.

A huge CRASH echoed through the alley.

Werner hid in the doorway, holding his breath and observing the situation.

The car doors opened, and two men got out. One tall, one short. Both wore heavy coats, their faces obscured.

The tall one walked over to Werner’s car, peered inside, and found it empty.

"Damn it!" he cursed in English.

English.

Werner’s heart sank. ’So it is the CIA.’

"He must be nearby," the short one said. "Let’s split up and search."

The two men separated and began searching the alley.

Werner quietly retreated deeper into the building. It was an old apartment block with a dim, dilapidated staircase and plaster peeling from the walls.

He quickly ran up to the second floor, found a window, pushed it open, and climbed out.

Below the window was a narrow alley, with another building directly opposite. Werner took a deep breath, took a few running steps, and leaped across.

For the instant his body was airborne, he felt as if his heart would leap out of his chest. If he missed, a fall from that height would be enough to break his legs.

But he successfully grabbed the opposite windowsill and struggled inside.

It was an empty room, devoid of furniture, covered in dust. Werner, panting, lay by the window and looked down.

In the alley below, the two CIA agents were still searching. The tall one held a flashlight, shining it into every corner.

"He can’t have gone far," said the short one.

"Damn it, who is this guy? How is he so sharp?" the tall one complained.

Werner didn’t wait to hear the rest. He turned, left the empty room, hurried downstairs, and slipped out the back door.

He wove through the alleys of the Old Town, stopping now and then to make sure no one was following before continuing on.

Half an hour later, he finally returned to his hotel.

Werner sat in his room, lit a cigarette, and carefully thought over what had just happened.

Being tailed by the CIA wasn’t good, but he had shaken them. And judging by the two agents’ reactions, they likely didn’t know his true identity. It seemed more probable that they were monitoring Novak or the military prison and happened to spot him, a "suspicious foreigner."

Under the current martial law, all international communications were strictly controlled. He had no way to contact Charlie directly.

But it wasn’t a major problem. Once he was back in East Germany, he would contact Charlie through a secure channel and have him confirm whether the CIA was investigating him internally. If so, he would have Charlie smooth things over.

Werner stubbed out his cigarette and decided not to overthink it. The deal had to go on; he couldn’t let a minor incident like this throw him off his game.

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

An hour later, Werner met Krzysztof at a secluded bar.

"What’s wrong? You look awful," Krzysztof asked.

"I was followed," Werner said. "By the CIA."

"What?" Krzysztof’s face paled. "How did they get on to you?"

"I don’t think they were specifically targeting me," Werner said. "It’s more likely they were watching Novak, and I just got caught in the middle."

"So what do we do now?"

"We continue," Werner said. "I’ve already lost them. Besides, I’m here in an official capacity. It doesn’t matter if the CIA knows I’m in Warsaw."

Two days later, Werner went to the Warsaw military prison under the official title of "Humanitarian Exchange Representative of the East German Government."

It was a gray building on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by high walls and barbed wire. Heavily armed soldiers stood at the main gate, the atmosphere grim and imposing.

Werner presented his diplomatic credentials and was respectfully escorted inside the prison.

"Comrade Betelich, welcome." Colonel Novak received him in his office, his attitude much more polite than at their last meeting in the abandoned factory. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, Colonel." Werner sat down.

"Regarding the matter we discussed, I’ve already made the arrangements," Novak said. "Three men, all in relatively good condition. You can see them."

"Very good," Werner said.

Novak led him to a visiting room. The room was clean, furnished with a sofa and a coffee table. It didn’t feel like part of a prison.

"One moment," Novak said, then left.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and a man was brought in.

Werner recognized him—Adam Michnik, an organizer for the Gdansk Chapter of the Solidarity Union. He had been present last year when Werner met with Walesa.

Adam looked haggard and worn. His face was bruised, his eyes sunken, and his lips chapped. But his hands weren’t cuffed, and he could move freely.

"Sit," Werner said, gesturing to the sofa.

Adam looked at him warily. "Who are you?"

"A representative of the East German Government," Werner said. "Adam, I know Walesa. We met last year in Gdansk."

The look in Adam’s eyes changed. "I remember you. You’re that... Werner Betelich?"

"That’s right." Werner lowered his voice. "Adam, we are arranging for you to go to West Germany. This is a legitimate humanitarian exchange. But you need to cooperate and not make a scene."

"Really?" Adam’s eyes lit up. "I can... leave this place?"

"Yes. In about a week," Werner said. "When you get to West Germany, tell them it was an agreement reached between the East German Government and the Polish Government. Don’t say anything more."

Adam nodded emphatically. "I understand. Werner, thank you."

"Don’t thank me," Werner said.

Next, Werner met with two other men, both members of the Solidarity Union, in similar condition to Adam.

He gave each of them the same instructions: this was an official, legitimate exchange, so they were to keep quiet about it.

After confirming that all three men were able to move and in acceptable condition, Werner left the prison.

In Novak’s office, the two finalized the details.

"The down payment, sixty-three thousand West German Marks, will arrive the day after tomorrow," Werner said. "The rest will be paid immediately upon handover of the men. I’ll have the goods delivered within five days. You designate a location."

"No problem," Novak said. "Comrade Betelich, a pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise."

Over the next few days, Werner arranged the details of the goods transaction while also preparing for the subsequent prisoner exchange.

He sent a report to Berlin, stating that the Polish military had agreed to release three political prisoners, but the asking price was high: sixty thousand West German Marks per person, for a total of one hundred and eighty thousand.

Gunter quickly approved the report and instructed the finance department to allocate the funds.

Meanwhile, Werner also contacted West Germany. Through his contact, Werner, he confirmed that the West German Government was willing to pay a ransom for these three men: one hundred and twenty thousand West German Marks per person, for a total of three hundred and sixty thousand.

December 23rd, the day of the exchange, arrived.