"I’m Matthias. Mathias Bauer." The young guard relaxed and extended his hand. "It’s a pleasure to et you."
The two shook hands.
"You look young. Just got assigned here?" Werner asked.
"Yeah, I’m fresh from the army," Matthias nodded. "Still getting used to things."
"How’s the job?" Werner asked tentatively.
Matthias shrugged. "It’s okay, I guess. It’s just that sotis I feel... well, how should I put it? It’s just checking papers, checking papers, every day. A bit monotonous."
Werner sharply picked up on the hint of dissatisfaction in Matthias’s tone. This was exactly the information he needed.
"It’s true, repetitive work can be tiring," Werner said understandingly. "But this job is important. Defending national security."
"Yeah, defending national security," Matthias repeated the slogan, but there was no enthusiasm in his voice.
The two chatted for a few more monts, then Werner deliberately glanced at his watch. "Sorry, I have to go. I still need to make dinner at ho. It was great eting you, Matthias."
"You too," Matthias said with a smile, still holding the half-smoked Cal cigarette in his hand.
"Oh, by the way," Werner said, pretending to have just rembered sothing. "I go to West Berlin often. If you need anything, I can bring so things back for you. Nothing expensive, of course, just so daily necessities or what have you."
Matthias’s eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Of course." Werner clapped him on the shoulder. "I’m heading to West Berlin again in the next couple of days. If you need anything, just let know."
Matthias hesitated for a mont. "I... I’d like a watch. A West German one."
Werner nodded inwardly.
’The request was reasonable and wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Plus, its value wasn’t high, making it a perfect first "investnt."’
"No problem," Werner agreed readily. "What brand?"
"Nothing too expensive, as long as it keeps accurate ti," Matthias said, a little embarrassed. "I can pay for it."
"Don’t worry about money for now," Werner said, waving his hand dismissively. "We can sort it out after I get it."
Matthias gratefully grasped Werner’s hand. "Thank you, Werner. I really, really appreciate it."
Werner patted his back. "Don’t ntion it. By the way, are you on duty here every day?"
"No, we work in shifts," Matthias said. "Today I’m on from 4 PM to 10 PM. I’m off tomorrow, and then I have the morning shift the day after."
"That sounds tiring," Werner said sympathetically.
"It’s not so bad," Matthias said with a smile. "It’s a lot easier than farm work. Besides, I get to see all sorts of people here every day. It’s pretty interesting."
The two chatted for a while longer before Werner said his goodbyes. Before turning to leave, he took out two more cigarettes and handed them to Matthias.
"Save these for later," he said with a smile.
Matthias took the cigarettes, his gratitude written all over his face. "You’re a really good guy, Werner."
"It’s nothing," Werner said with a small smile. "I’ll co find you again in a few days."
Werner was in a good mood as he walked away from the checkpoint.
This first contact had gone even more smoothly than he had expected.
The young man, Matthias, was naive, greedy, and discontent with his lot—the perfect target for corruption.
However, Werner also knew that turning soone like him required a gradual approach.
If he was too hasty, he might scare him off. He had to make Matthias feel that they had a genuine friendship, not a simple transactional relationship.
Walking ho, Werner was already planning his next move.
He really was going to West Berlin in a few days, but not to buy a watch. He was going to pick up stock.
The watch was just a side errand, but this side errand would open an important door for him.
In this divided city, every useful friend could be key to survival. And Mathias Bauer, the young border guard from the countryside, would be an important step on his path to greater success.
*********************
「A few days later.」
Werner erged from the subway station in West Berlin and headed straight for the café where he was eting Reynard.
West Berlin was still that familiar "other world." The air was filled with car exhaust, the aroma of coffee, and a certain indescribable "sense of affluence," a stark contrast to the sll of coal smoke mixed with rationed food in East Berlin.
He had called Reynard yesterday to arrange a eting for today at a café on Clyde Road.
The café’s sign glittered in the sunlight. Werner pushed the door open and was imdiately enveloped in the warm aroma of coffee.
Reynard was already waiting at their usual spot.
The West Berlin rchant was dressed in a crisp, dark gray suit, the Swiss watch on his wrist gleaming under the lights. His gaze was sharp and shrewd, and he wore the calculating smile unique to a businessman.
He saw Werner and imdiately waved him over.
"Werner! My friend!" Reynard stood up and greeted Werner with a warm embrace. "Sit, sit! Try the coffee here, it’s excellent."
"That East German sparkling wine you brought last ti was excellent," Reynard said, signaling to the waiter for another coffee. "My clients were very pleased."
The waiter brought the coffee. Werner lifted his cup and took a small sip.
’Just as I’d expected, this coffee tasted far better than the rationed coffee in East Berlin—it was rich and fragrant, without the acidic tang of low-quality beans.’
Reynard asked, "How was the response over there to those Western records and magazines I gave you last ti?"
"I’m still slowly developing the channels," Werner said, putting down his coffee cup. "The clientele for these kinds of goods is quite specific—mainly the families of officials and people in cultural circles. You can’t reach these people through the regular Black Market. They’re interested in this stuff and have the purchasing power, but reaching them takes ti. It can’t be rushed."
"I understand, I understand," Reynard nodded. "High-end clients need to be cultivated. But once the connection is established, the profits will be substantial."
Werner nodded and said, feigning casualness, "By the way, I ran into an official’s wife the other day, and she ntioned wanting a good coffee machine. She said the Swiss-made ones are especially good. Do you know anything about them?"
Reynard’s eyes lit up. "Swiss coffee machines? They’re definitely the good stuff! Brands like Egro or Schaerer... they’re practically the Rolls-Royces of coffee machines."
"Is there anything special about them?" Werner asked, feigning curiosity.
Reynard put down his cup, launching enthusiastically into an explanation. "Do you know the steps needed to brew a good cup of coffee?"
Werner quickly ran through the process in his mind: ’First, you manually grind the coffee beans. Then, you boil water to brew the powder, and finally, you filter it.’
"I know the basics," Werner replied.
"The traditional thod requires manual grinding, controlling the water temperature, and manual extraction. The technique for each step affects the final taste of the coffee," Reynard said, counting on his fingers. "A Swiss coffee machine, on the other hand, can do all of those steps automatically."
"First, the built-in grinder can grind the beans into perfectly uniform particles, sothing you can’t possibly do by hand. Then, the precision temperature control system keeps the water temperature exactly between 92 and 96 degrees Celsius—the golden temperature for coffee extraction."
Werner compared this in his mind: ’East German coffee makers have no automatic grinding function. They’re just simple electric kettles with a filter. There’s no temperature control to speak of; it’s all up to luck. Plus, those machines break down all the ti and are impossible to repair.’
"And," Reynard continued, "the high-end models also have a steam system for making fine milk foam, so you can make cappuccinos at ho. I imagine the coffee makers in East Germany don’t have a feature like that."
An idea sparked in Werner’s mind.
’It’s true,’ he thought. ’East German coffee makers only have the most basic drip-filter function. They’re designed for one simple purpose: to make a cup of coffee. They don’t take different tastes into account.’
"Sounds impressive," Werner nodded. "But I imagine they’re not cheap?"
"An entry-level model costs three or four hundred West German Marks, and the top-tier ones are over a thousand," Reynard said with a shrug. "But just think of what they’re worth in East Berlin!"
Werner did a quick calculation in his head: ’Three to four hundred West German Marks is about one thousand five hundred East German Marks at the Black Market exchange rate. But in East Germany, a high-tech Western product like this could sell for five thousand, at least.’
"The problem is, a coffee machine is bulky," Reynard said, frowning. "It’s not as easy to transport as cigarettes and magazines. It could easily be discovered."
Werner smiled confidently. "Don’t worry about that. I have a way."
"Oh?" A curious glint appeared in Reynard’s eyes.
"It’s a secret for now," Werner said mysteriously. "Can you get a sample unit? I want to test the market’s reaction first."
"Of course!" Reynard said. "I have a friend who’s a distributor for Swiss appliances. I can get it at a wholesale price. If this business takes off, the profits will be much higher than with the liquor!"
After leaving the café, Werner wandered through a few more shops in West Berlin.
He needed to buy one more thing—a watch that wasn’t too expensive, but was exquisite enough.
User Comments
0 comments from readers