Chapter 358 - 3: Selling the Old World

Chapter 358: Chapter 3: Selling the Old World

Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting in the corner of a nearby café.

Marta had called Laszlo.

Laszlo arrived half an hour later.

He sized up the three of them. "What kind of package do you want?"

The leader of the group was a man named Peter, a mechanic from Leipzig around forty years old.

He took a cloth pouch from inside his coat. It was filled with crumpled West German Marks. "For the three of us, can we buy one deluxe package and two basic packages?"

Laszlo counted the money and nodded. "This will do. But you have to remember a few things. First, once you have your materials, leave Budapest immediately. Do not spend the night in this city. Second, follow the route marked on the map exactly. Don’t go off on your own. Third, once you get to Austria, destroy all of your documents. Don’t leave even a trace of ash. Understand?"

"Understood," the three of them said in unison.

"In three days, come back to this café at two in the afternoon to pick up your things," Laszlo said.

That night, Laszlo sent a telegram to Werner: "First business. Three clients. Successful."

When Werner received the telegram in his East Berlin office, he let out a long sigh of relief.

’It’s begun.’

**********

In the weeks that followed, clients began to appear.

At first, it was just a scattered few. Then it grew to seven or eight a week, and then dozens.

They all heard the news through the underground network in East Berlin and flew to Budapest under the guise of being tourists.

Laszlo handled most of the clients, while Werner only took charge of important cases.

One weekend in June, Laszlo sent an urgent telegram: "Important clients. Family of three. With child. Advise you come in person."

Werner booked a flight immediately.

He arrived in Budapest on Monday morning. That afternoon, in the six-story apartment building, he met the couple.

The man was Marcus, a thirty-two-year-old mechanical engineer. The woman was Lieselotte, a twenty-eight-year-old elementary school teacher. They had a five-year-old girl with them named Emma, who clutched a tattered cloth doll and hid shyly behind her mother.

"We’d like the standard package," Marcus said, pulling a bulging envelope from his coat.

Werner opened the envelope. Inside were eight thousand Marks, mostly in small ten and twenty-Mark bills, along with a few coins. The bills were crumpled, some with frayed corners. It was clear the money had been saved up little by little.

"Is this all the money you have?" Werner asked.

"Yes." Marcus’s Adam’s apple bobbed. "We saved for six years. We were going to buy a Trabant—we’ve been on the waiting list for three years. But..." He glanced at his daughter. "We decided it was better to leave."

Werner looked at the little girl.

Emma was looking back at him, her big, dark eyes filled with unease.

She clutched the cloth doll, one of its arms having been crudely stitched back on after falling off.

"Why did you bring the child?" Werner asked. "Do you have any idea how dangerous the journey is? You’ll have to travel by night to cross the border, dodge patrols, and make your way through the woods. If you’re caught, all three of you will go to prison. Besides, she’s so little. Can she even walk that far?"

"We’ll take turns carrying her," Lieselotte said, her voice resolute. "We couldn’t leave her here. I don’t want her to grow up and end up like us..." She choked up. "Like us, trapped behind this wall for her entire life."

Marcus added, "We’re teachers. Every day, watching those children, teaching them to sing those songs and say those words... I feel like I’m poisoning them. I don’t want my daughter to end up like that."

Werner was silent for a moment.

He thought of his own son, Felix. ’If it were for him, would I be willing to take this same risk?’

"Alright." Werner stood up. "I’m upgrading you to the deluxe package. No extra charge."

Marcus was stunned. "What?"

"The deluxe package," Werner repeated. "It’s too dangerous to travel by night with a child. I’ll arrange for a car to drop you five kilometers from the border; it will be safer. And I’ll prepare food and medicine suitable for a child."

"But we..." Marcus’s voice choked with emotion. "We don’t have that much money..."

"No extra charge," Werner said. "I have a son, too. I know what it is to be a parent."

Lieselotte couldn’t hold back any longer, and tears streamed down her face.

She grabbed Werner’s hand. "Thank you, sir. Truly, thank you. We don’t know how we can ever repay you..."

"Don’t thank me. Just make it to Austria alive and take care of your daughter." He paused. "In three days, be back here at two in the afternoon to pick up your things. And remember, the moment you’re in Austria, destroy all your documents. Don’t leave a single trace."

"We will," Marcus said, nodding emphatically. "We’ll remember you for the rest of our lives."

’Remembered for a lifetime,’ Werner thought. ’That’s exactly what I want.’

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

In July, Werner returned to East Berlin to handle some business for Koko.

He had just arrived at his office when he was summoned by Director Gunter.

"Werner, you’ve been going to Budapest quite frequently," Gunter said, flipping through some documents. "You’ve been there nine times in the last four months."

"It’s all work-related," Werner said. "The political situation in Hungary is unstable right now, and a lot of our orders require my personal confirmation. As you know, the reformists and conservatives are vying for power. We need to ensure Koko’s interests aren’t affected."

"Unstable?" Gunter looked up. "What do you think is going to happen in Hungary?"

Werner chose his words carefully. He couldn’t sound like he knew the future, but he had to appear well-informed.

"It’s hard to say," he said. "The reformist faction is very powerful, and Kadar is old and in poor health. But the conservatives are fighting back. Personally, I don’t think there will be any major changes in the short term. The Hungarians may want reform, but they won’t dare go too far. After all, Moscow is watching."

"Is that so?" Gunter stared at him. "I’ve heard that dozens of East Germans are crossing from Hungary into Austria every day. Since you’re over there, have you seen anything?"

"I have," Werner admitted freely. "There are indeed some East Germans gathered outside the West German embassy in Budapest. It looks like they’re trying to seek asylum."

Gunter was silent for a moment, then waved a dismissive hand. "Alright. From now on, report to me before you go to Budapest. The situation is sensitive. We need to be careful."

"Understood."

***********

"What have you been up to lately?" Anna asked him at the private villa. "There are whispers about you within the Stasi."

"Whispering what about me?" Werner asked, pouring two glasses of wine.

"That your activities in Hungary are suspicious," Anna said, taking the glass. "I don’t know the details, but it seems Von Brown has caught wind of it too. Werner, what exactly are you doing?"

Werner was silent for a few seconds, then decided on a half-truth. "Just a little side business. Helping some East Germans get their hands on Hungarian goods to resell. You know how it is—there’s a lot you can’t get in East Germany that you can find in Hungary."

"That’s all?" Anna was clearly skeptical.

"That’s all." Werner looked into her eyes. "Anna, do you trust me?"

Anna stared at him for a long time before finally sighing. "I trust that you know your limits. But Werner, the situation is incredibly sensitive right now. Anger has gone mad, hunting for ’traitors’ everywhere. You need to be careful."

"I will be." Werner kissed her forehead. "You take care of yourself, too."

They didn’t say much more that night, but Werner knew Anna was smarter than he gave her credit for. She had probably guessed some of it but chose not to ask.

’That’s for the best,’ he thought. ’Some things are safer left unknown.’

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

In early August, Werner received an urgent telegram from Laszlo: "Something big. Come quick."

He flew to Budapest at once. Laszlo met him at the airport, his face beaming with excitement he couldn’t hide.

"What’s so urgent?" Werner asked.

"Have you heard of the Pan-European Picnic?" Laszlo asked in a low voice. "On August nineteenth, Hungary and Austria are holding an event at the border. They’re calling it the ’Pan-European Picnic,’ supposedly to promote friendship between the two nations."

Werner’s heart began to pound.

’It’s happening.’

’That famous day from history is finally here.’

"What are the details?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"At the border near Schoplang," Laszlo said, "the two countries are going to open a gate in the barbed-wire fence. It’s a symbolic gesture to let people from both sides meet for three hours. Just three hours, from three to six in the afternoon."

Werner’s mind raced.

The historical accounts from his past life recorded that on the day of the Pan-European Picnic, over six hundred East German tourists seized the opportunity to rush across the border and escape into Austria.

The Hungarian Border Guard didn’t open fire; they just watched them run.

It was the prelude to the collapse of East Germany.