Chapter 356 - 1: Hungary’s Loophole

Chapter 356: Chapter 1: Hungary’s Loophole

Berlin, January 1989. The temperature at night dropped to minus fifteen degrees.

Werner sat alone in his office at Koko Headquarters, the Spree River frozen solid outside his window.

A trade report from Budapest lay open on his desk, but he wasn’t reading it. Instead, he was staring at a map of Europe on the wall.

Hungary.

The country didn’t look large on the map, sandwiched between Austria and Romania.

But Werner knew that in 1989, Hungary was becoming the weakest link in the Iron Curtain.

He struck a match to light a cigarette, the flame flickering in the darkness.

As a Transmigrator, Werner clearly remembered the history of his past life:

This May, Hungary would begin dismantling the barbed-wire fence on its border with Austria.

On August 19, the "Pan-European Picnic" would lead to more than six hundred East Germans escaping to the West.

On September 11, Hungary would officially open its borders.

On November 9, the Berlin Wall would fall.

There were less than ten months until that world-changing night.

But at this moment in January 1989, he was the only one who knew.

Anger was still lost in his dream of an eternal dynasty, the Stasi was still weaving its web of surveillance, and even intelligence analysts in West Germany believed the Berlin Wall would stand for at least another fifty years.

Only he knew the truth.

Werner exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching it dissipate in the darkness.

He needed to do something.

’The Hungarian border is about to loosen. That means tens of thousands of East Germans will be trying to find a way to escape to the West.’

’They’ll need maps, guides, forged documents—and all of that can be sold for a profit.’

’More importantly, helping these people escape will be a crucial step in whitewashing my past later on.’

Werner stubbed out his cigarette, picked up the phone, and dialed a number in Budapest.

"Laszlo? It’s me, Werner." He lowered his voice. "I want to talk to you about a deal. A private one."

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end.

"When?" Laszlo asked.

"The sooner, the better. I’ll fly over next week."

After hanging up, Werner stood and walked to the window.

In the distance, the Berlin Wall glowed a ghastly white under the searchlights.

Twenty-eight years.

Since its construction in 1961, the wall had killed at least one hundred thirty-eight people who tried to climb over it.

Every East German knew that climbing the wall was a death sentence.

But now, history had given them another path—Hungary.

Werner recalled the historical details he had read in his past life:

East Germany and Hungary were both members of the Warsaw Pact, so East German citizens could use their passports to "legally" travel to Hungary for tourism.

Hungary bordered Austria, and while Austria was officially neutral, it was in reality pro-Western.

If someone could cross illegally from Hungary into Austria, they would effectively be in the free world. From there, they could travel to West Germany and apply for political asylum.

In the past, this route had been virtually impossible.

The Hungarian border was heavily fortified: barbed-wire fences, landmines, watchtowers, and patrols. It was even more secure than the Berlin Wall.

Anyone attempting to cross was shot on sight—not just East Germans. Even Hungarian citizens who tried to flee were shot dead.

But now, the situation was changing.

Gorbachev was pushing for "reform and new thinking" in the Soviet Union, and the effects were being felt throughout Eastern Europe.

Hungary’s reformist faction began to gain traction while the conservatives steadily lost their grip on power.

Werner knew that in a few months, Hungary would begin dismantling its border fences, ostensibly to "save on maintenance costs," but in reality, it was a gesture of goodwill toward the West, aimed at securing economic aid.

And that would be the beginning of the end for the East German regime.

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

A week later, Werner was in Budapest.

In February, the Danube River was still sheeted in thin ice. The wind on the bridge was sharp and biting.

Werner, bundled in his greatcoat, waited for Laszlo in the middle of the bridge.

Laszlo was twenty minutes late.

He walked right up and handed Werner a bottle of pálinka. "Sorry, the party secretary just chewed me out." He gave a wry smile. "Said our foreign trade department is being ’too friendly’ to the West."

Werner took the bottle but didn’t drink, handing it back. "What’s the situation inside your party these days?"

"A total mess." Laszlo took a swig from the bottle, his breath a white cloud in the air. "The conservatives and the reformists are at each other’s throats. Kadar is old and seriously ill; the real power is in Gross’s hands. You know what kind of man Gross is? A reformist. He’s said it publicly: if the people want to leave, what right do we have to keep them locked in a cage?"

"What about the border?" Werner asked, cutting to the chase. "I’ve heard things are happening."

Laszlo glanced around and lowered his voice. "There’s definitely movement. The party’s debating the cost of maintaining the fence on the border between Hungary and Austria. It’s millions of Forint a year—just the upkeep on the watchtowers, the patrol salaries, replacing landmines... it’s a huge expense. The reformists are suggesting they dismantle a portion of it. They say it’ll save money and act as a gesture of goodwill to the West to secure economic aid."

"And the conservatives agree?"

"Still arguing." Laszlo shook his head. "But my cousin has a contact in the Border Guard. He says an order has come down from on high: no more opening fire on people crossing the border. If someone’s caught trying to sneak across, they’re just to be escorted back. No casualties. That would have been unthinkable in the past."

Werner nodded.

’That meant the Hungarian government was already changing its strategy.’

’In the past, anyone who tried to climb the wire was shot on the spot. But now, Hungary no longer wanted to play the part of the executioner.’

"One more thing." Laszlo took another drink. "There are more and more East German tourists. Over thirty thousand came to Hungary last year, and the number is expected to be even higher this year. Our guys at the tourism bureau say a lot of East Germans get here and immediately start asking around Budapest how to get to Austria. Some of them just check in and never leave, just hanging around the embassies every day."

Werner understood the situation perfectly.

’The wheels of history are turning.’

"Laszlo," he said, looking the other man in the eye, "I want to propose a business deal. But it’s a bit... unique. And a bit dangerous."

"What kind of deal?"

"Helping East Germans leave," Werner said curtly. "You know what I mean."

Laszlo froze for a second, then realization dawned.

He was silent for a long moment before breathing out a white plume of air. "Werner Betelich, you’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve."

"Is that a problem?"

"No." Laszlo suddenly grinned. "It’s a good business proposition, actually. And to be honest, I can’t stand this whole situation either. Why lock people up? We’re not prison wardens." He paused. "What do you need from me?"

"Help me find a place in Budapest. Rent a warehouse and an apartment," Werner said. "On paper, it’ll be a Koko office, but it’ll be for my private use. I also need reliable men—ideally, veterans of the Border Guard who know the border, can drive, and can keep their mouths shut."

"My cousin is exactly that," Laszlo said after a moment’s thought. "He has two army buddies who also just got out. I can introduce you."

"Excellent." Werner pulled an envelope from his pocket. "Here’s a down payment."

Laszlo opened the envelope—inside were five thousand West German Marks.

"This much?"

"There’s more where that came from," Werner said. "But remember this—this has nothing to do with Koko, and nothing to do with the East German government. I’m doing this as a private citizen, and so are you. We split the profits fifty-fifty."

"Fifty-fifty?" Laszlo raised an eyebrow. "That’s generous. Alright. I’m in."

The two men shook hands in the biting river wind.