Chapter 344 - 127: Underground Network

Chapter 344: Chapter 127: Underground Network

Werner walked into the stairwell. The handrail wobbled, and the floorboards groaned under his weight.

A faded slogan was plastered on the wall: "Socialism is our future!" The exclamation mark was practically peeling off.

Fourth floor, the room at the far end of the hall. Werner knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice more.

The door opened a crack, revealing a wary eye.

"Who are you looking for?"

"I’m looking for Mr. Steinhaus," Werner said in a low voice. "Father Weber sent me."

The door opened a little wider.

The person who opened the door was a young man in his twenties with a messy beard and thick, black-rimmed glasses. He wore faded jeans and a plaid shirt—the typical intellectual’s getup.

"Come in."

The room was even smaller than Werner had imagined. One table, two chairs, and stacks of mimeographed flyers piled in a corner. The window was papered over with old newspapers, leaving a single dim desk lamp as the only source of light. With three people squeezed inside, the air was thick with the smells of sweat and ink.

"This is Thomas Steinhaus," the young man said, pointing to the middle-aged man sitting at the table. "He runs the Environment Library. Thomas, this is the... friend Father Weber told us about."

Steinhaus stood and shook Werner’s hand. He was in his early forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a gaze that was weary but resolute. His hands were covered in ink; he had obviously just been printing something.

"Please, sit." Steinhaus poured Werner a cup of tea in a chipped cup. "Apologies for the crude conditions. Here... well, you can see for yourself."

"I understand." Werner sat down, his eyes scanning the flyers in the room.

The headlines were blunt: *The Truth About Pollution in the Baltic Sea*, *Leipzig Air Quality Report*, *The Dangers of Nuclear Power Plants*.

"Environmental protection," Steinhaus said, noticing Werner’s gaze. "It’s one of the few legal activities we have left. Of course, the government doesn’t see it that way. We were just raided last month. They even confiscated our printing press."

"So now you’re using a mimeograph?"

"That’s right." The young man gave a wry smile. "Nineteenth-century technology, but what can you do?"

Werner set down his teacup and looked Steinhaus straight in the eye. "Father Weber told me you need help."

Steinhaus and the young man exchanged a glance.

After a few seconds of silence, Steinhaus spoke. "We do need help. A printing press, paper, ink, a photocopier... in East Germany, that stuff is harder to come by than Gold. We want more people to know the truth, but right now, we lack even the most basic tools."

"And funding," the young man added. "We all do this part-time. We have day jobs to support our families. The factory docked Thomas’s pay last month for taking too much time off. Now he can barely even make rent."

Werner nodded, pulled a newspaper-wrapped bundle from his briefcase, and pushed it onto the table. "Here’s fifty thousand West German Marks."

The room fell suddenly silent.

Steinhaus stared at the bundle, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He said nothing. The young man’s glasses nearly fell off his face.

"Fif... fifty thousand?" the young man stammered. "You... You’re not joking, are you?"

"I don’t joke." Werner leaned back in his chair. "This money is enough to buy new printing equipment, rent a larger space, and even pay salaries for a few full-time members."

Steinhaus slowly unwrapped the newspaper, revealing neat stacks of cash inside. His hands trembled slightly.

"Why?" Steinhaus looked up, his eyes filled with suspicion. "Who are you? And why are you helping us?"

Werner had anticipated this question. He lit a cigarette and spoke deliberately. "My name is Werner Betelich. If you’ve asked around, you should know who that is."

The color drained from Steinhaus’s face. "The... Werner Betelich from the Koko Group?"

"That’s right."

The young man shot to his feet, knocking his chair over. "You’re Stasi!"

"Sit down, Peter." Steinhaus put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, his gaze never leaving Werner. "Let him finish."

Werner flicked the ash from his cigarette. "I do work for Koko, and I do have ties to the Stasi. But that doesn’t mean I approve of the regime."

"Then why are you still working for them?" Peter asked through gritted teeth.

"Because it’s only from inside the system that I can accomplish more," Werner said calmly. "Do you have any idea how many political prisoners have made it to West Germany through my channels in the last ten years? Over five thousand. Do you know how many families of dissidents have left East Germany with my help? Thousands."

Steinhaus fell silent. He had clearly heard the rumors.

"I’m no saint," Werner continued. "I do these things for my own reasons. But I can guarantee one thing: no one I’ve helped has ever gotten into trouble because of it."

Steinhaus stared at Werner for a long moment, then slowly reached out and took the bundle of money. "We’ll remember this."

"One more thing," Werner said, getting to his feet. "You cannot tell anyone where this money came from. Just say you raised it through the West German Church. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Also, I’ll be providing you with... information periodically. About government policy, about Stasi operations. It will help you avoid trouble, and it will make your articles more convincing."

Peter was still wary. "How do we know the information is real? That it’s not a trap?"

Werner smiled. "If I wanted to arrest you, I could do it right now. Would I need to set a trap?"

Peter had nothing to say to that.

Werner walked to the door and stopped. "By the way, Father Weber mentioned you know the people from the Peace Circle?"

"We do," Steinhaus nodded. "They’re doing similar work—calling for disarmament, protesting nuclear weapons."

"If they need anything, you can pass it on to me," Werner said. "And the people from the April 25th Initiative. I hear they’re in Leipzig?"

"That’s right. They’re mostly involved in cultural activities—underground concerts, poetry readings, that sort of thing."

"Have them contact me." Werner left a phone number. "And remember, don’t call from your homes. Find somewhere secure."

Steinhaus took the slip of paper and folded it carefully. "I’ll pass it on."

Werner nodded, opened the door, and left.

As he walked down the stairs, he heard Peter’s voice behind him.

"Thomas, you really trust him?"

"I don’t know," Steinhaus’s voice was low. "But we don’t have a choice right now, do we?"

Werner smiled to himself and continued down the stairs.

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

In the car, Franz let out a sigh of relief. "How did it go?"

"It went smoothly," Werner said, fastening his seatbelt. "On to the next stop."

"The next? There’s more today?"

"Yes." Werner pulled a list from his bag. "The ’Women’s Peace Initiative’ in the Pankow District. They focus on women’s rights and anti-war efforts."

Franz started the car, muttering, "Boss, are you planning to fund every last dissident in East Berlin?"

"Not just East Berlin." Werner lit another cigarette. "Leipzig, Dresden, Halle... I’m going to meet with the main dissident group in every major city."

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

The apartment building in the Pankow District was a slight improvement over the one in Prenzlauer Berg. At least its exterior walls had been painted.

Werner rang the bell for the third-floor apartment.

A woman in her thirties with short hair and no makeup answered the door. She wore a simple sweater and slacks.

She looked Werner up and down. "And you are?"

"I’m a friend of Father Weber’s," Werner said, giving the countersign. "I heard there are some brave ladies here."