Free Web NovelChapter 92: Chapter 2: Cooperation or Fishing?
At 3:00 PM, Werner appeared in a small tavern on Friedrichstrasse.
This was an old haunt for Black Market dealers, but today the atmosphere was particularly oppressive.
The usually boisterous tavern had fallen quiet. A few familiar faces sat in the corners, their expressions grim.
"Werner!" Fatty Wolf spotted him and immediately waved him over. "Over here, over here."
Werner walked over. A few other small-time dealers, all of whom used to hustle on the Black Market, were sitting next to Fatty Wolf.
"So, you came." Fatty Wolf’s tone was complex. His eyes scanned Werner. "Heard you can barely keep up with selling the goods in your warehouse?"
"It’s fine," Werner said nonchalantly, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
"Fine?" A weaselly-looking dealer chimed in sourly. "Come on, Werner, no need to be so modest. You’re the only one in all of East Berlin with any stock. The rest of us can’t even find a single cigarette, and you call that ’fine’?"
"Derek," Fatty Wolf shot him a glare. "Watch your mouth."
"What did I say?" Derek picked up his glass and took a swig. "I’m just telling the truth. The moment the wall went up, all our supply sources were cut off. But look at Werner, his warehouse is stuffed to the gills."
Werner didn’t respond. He simply took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, and lit it.
They were Camel cigarettes, imported from West Germany. In East Berlin right now, they were more precious than gold.
Derek stared at the cigarette, his eyes practically glued to it.
"Werner," Fatty Wolf cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "You still have cigarettes? I have a client who’s desperate for some, willing to pay a high price."
"I do," Werner exhaled a puff of smoke. "But the price is double what it was before."
"Double?" Fatty Wolf sucked in a sharp breath.
"Too expensive?" Werner flicked his ash. "Then go find them somewhere else."
Fatty Wolf gritted his teeth, but finally nodded. "Fine. I’ll take twenty cartons."
"Come to the warehouse the day after tomorrow to pick them up. Bring cash."
The atmosphere grew even more silent. The other dealers exchanged glances, their eyes filled with an indescribable mix of feelings.
Just then, the tavern door was pushed open and a middle-aged man in a well-made wool coat walked in.
The noise in the tavern instantly died down.
"It’s Schneider," Fatty Wolf said in a low voice. "Boss Krupp’s right-hand man."
Werner lifted his gaze, sizing up the newcomer.
Schneider was about forty, with a scar running from the corner of his eye to his chin that made him look like trouble.
He scanned the room, walked straight to the bar, and ordered a gin.
"Why is Schneider here by himself?" Derek muttered under his breath. "Where’s Boss Krupp?"
"Who knows," another dealer whispered. "I heard Boss Krupp hasn’t been doing so well these past few days."
"Maybe he’s just watching and waiting to see how things play out."
"Watching and waiting? I think he’s about to go under."
The men began to argue, their voices growing louder.
Werner didn’t join in. He just drank his liquor silently, but his peripheral vision was fixed on Schneider at the bar.
After finishing his gin, Schneider suddenly turned. His gaze swept across the tavern and finally landed on Werner.
Their eyes met across the room.
Schneider raised his glass in a distant salute to Werner, then turned and left the tavern.
"What was that all about?" Fatty Wolf was stunned.
Werner said nothing, simply stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray.
******************
At 7:00 PM, Werner returned to the warehouse.
Keller was already waiting there, and next to him stood an unfamiliar young man.
"Boss, this is Koch. He’s one of Boss Krupp’s men," Keller said quietly.
Werner raised an eyebrow, sizing up the newcomer.
Koch was in his early thirties, dressed in a neat dark suit, his hair impeccably combed.
He stood ramrod straight, hands hanging naturally at his sides. His gaze was steady, and he looked well-trained.
"Mr. Betelich," Koch said, extending his hand. "My name is Koch. I work for Mr. Krupp."
Werner shook his hand, feeling the man’s dry, strong palm and the calluses on the web between his thumb and forefinger—the kind of calluses only found on someone who’d trained in boxing or armed combat.
"Boss Krupp sent for me?" Werner lit a cigarette.
"Here’s the situation, Mr. Betelich," Koch got straight to the point. "Mr. Krupp sent me to ask if your supply of goods is still plentiful. If you’re in need, we can provide some replenishment." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
Werner exhaled a plume of smoke without an immediate reply.
Koch continued, "After the wall went up, many channels were cut off, but Mr. Krupp still has some old connections. Cigarettes, coffee, industrial materials—he can get them. If you need goods, Mr. Betelich, we can supply them at a very fair price."
"Oh?" Werner smiled. "Boss Krupp is that kind?"
"It’s not kindness, it’s cooperation," Koch said with a sincere tone. "Mr. Krupp says that at a time like this, everyone should band together, not fight their own separate battles."
He took a step forward and lowered his voice. "Frankly, Mr. Betelich, the wall’s construction is a blow to everyone. But some were well-prepared, while others were caught off guard. Mr. Krupp feels that since you stockpiled so many goods in advance, you must have exceptional foresight and channels."
Werner flicked his ash, listening quietly.
Koch seemed to mention it casually. "By the way, Mr. Betelich, I heard that even after the wall went up, you can still get goods from West Berlin? That’s a truly remarkable channel you have."
’Here we go,’ Werner sneered inwardly. ’After talking in circles for so long, the fox finally shows its tail.’
"Who told you that?" Werner retorted.
"Oh, it’s just the rumor on the Black Market," Koch scratched his head, feigning nonchalance. "Everyone’s saying Mr. Betelich has incredible connections, that not even the wall can block your routes."
His tone shifted. "Actually, Mr. Krupp is very impressed, which is why he wants to discuss a bigger partnership with you. Channels are tight right now. If you really do have a stable source of goods from West Berlin, we can work together and take over the entire East Berlin Black Market."
"Think about it, how many people have no stock right now? As long as we join forces and control the supply, we can control the prices, control the market. When that happens, you, Mr. Betelich, will take the lion’s share, and Mr. Krupp’s side will support you. Together, we can make this business huge."
Koch grew more animated as he spoke. "Mr. Krupp said you’re young, driven, and have great vision. He’s willing to take a backseat and let you take the lead. As long as we can use your West Berlin channel, any terms are negotiable."
After listening, Werner slowly exhaled a mouthful of smoke.
He understood completely.
’Krupp is fishing. On the surface, he’s offering to supply me, to cooperate, even willing to let me take the larger share. But his real goal is to confirm whether or not I actually have an import channel from West Berlin.’
’He’s using the promise of a larger market share as bait, trying to get me to reveal my hand.’
’Once he confirms I have a stable channel, Krupp can use the pretense of ’cooperation’ to bring in goods through my channel and solve his own urgent problem.’
’Truly a sly old fox who’s been navigating East Berlin for twenty years.’
’But Werner was no pushover.’
He paced a few steps inside the warehouse. Shrouded in smoke, his expression was hidden from Koch.
After a long moment, Werner stopped. "Koch, go back and tell Mr. Krupp I appreciate the kind offer."
Koch’s eyes lit up.
"But—" Werner’s tone shifted. "The situation is still unclear. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? For now, I don’t need any new partners."
"But, Mr. Betelich—"
"As for those Black Market rumors," Werner cut him off, saying nonchalantly, "you know how rumors are. They’re just for listening, not for taking seriously. All I have is the stock I hoarded beforehand. It’s hard to say how long it will last."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Koch’s face. "So, you mean..."
"Let’s wait and see," Werner flicked the cigarette butt away. "It’s too early to talk about cooperation. When I really need it, I will naturally go find Mr. Krupp."
He walked up to Koch and clapped him on the shoulder. "Thank Mr. Krupp for his kindness on my behalf. But there is one thing you can tell him—"
Werner’s gaze sharpened. "I, Werner, believe in doing business for the long haul. I don’t hog all the profits for myself, but I also don’t let others see my cards easily. That’s the rule."
Koch froze for a moment, then nodded. "I understand. I’ll pass on the message."
After seeing Koch off, Keller immediately hurried over. "Boss, he was just trying to feel you out! Trying to find out if you really have a channel to West Berlin."
"I know," Werner lit a new cigarette. "That’s why I didn’t give him a straight answer."
"Then why didn’t you agree to cooperate? Even if it’s not a real partnership, you could have at least placated them for now. Or just rejected them outright. Why be so vague?"
"Because the time isn’t right yet," Werner walked to the window, looking out at the darkening sky. "Krupp is just barely holding on right now. He sent Koch for two reasons: one, to test if I really have a West Berlin channel, and two, to save face. See, he had Koch say ’we can supply you’ and ’let you take the lion’s share,’ not ’we want to use your channel.’"
"But Boss—"
"He still has leverage, or rather, he thinks he does," Werner flicked his ash. "So any negotiation now wouldn’t be transparent. If I agreed now, the best I could get would be a 50-50 split, or maybe 60-40. But if I wait until his inventory really hits rock bottom, until he can’t hold on in the Black Market any longer, until he has no choice but to drop all pretenses and come begging me—"
He turned around, his eyes sharp. "At that point, whatever I ask for, he will have to give me."
