Chapter 384 - 29: Dragging the Whole World Down

The rain pattered against the office window, making a soft, fragmented sound.

Werner stood before the window on the ninth floor of the Koko building, the summons clutched in his hand.

It bore the letterhead of the East Berlin District Court and the signature of Prosecutor Marcus Stein. The charges were listed one by one: illegal transfer of state assets, money laundering, and suspected collaboration with the Stasi.

Werner lit a cigarette.

'It's finally here.'

'The reckoning has begun. This is the final hurdle in laundering my past.'

The street outside was soaked. Berlin in April was always like this—cold, gloomy, and damp. Below, an occasional figure holding an umbrella hurried past, their footsteps drowned out by the rain.

"Comrade Betelich," his secretary's voice came from the doorway, laced with cautious trepidation. "The people from the court said you must appear for your hearing within three days."

Werner didn't turn around. He just flicked the ash from his cigarette.

"I know."

The secretary hesitated, then added, "Director Gunter was sentenced to six years yesterday. It was all over the papers."

"Mm."

"Colonel von Brown... he's been arrested too."

"I said, I know." Werner's tone was placid, as if he were commenting on the weather.

The secretary took the hint and retreated, closing the door softly.

Only then did Werner look down at the summons again.

Prosecutor Stein. In his early thirties, from West Germany, a doctor of law, and brimming with a sense of justice.

'These people are the most troublesome—they believe in the law, in justice, in the idea that as long as the evidence is solid, justice will be served.'

'But in this world, victory is never decided by evidence alone.'

He placed the summons on the desk, walked to his safe, entered the combination, and pulled open the heavy steel door.

Inside, dozens of folders were neatly arranged, each labeled with the name of a West German official.

Werner took out the thickest ones and spread them on his desk.

The first folder read on its cover: "Herman Krause, Deputy Director, West German Ministry of the Interior." He opened it to find dense records:

Bribery Record:

1974: Received a Swiss watch, value 20,000 Marks.

1976: Deposit of 100,000 Swiss francs into a secret account in Zurich.

1978: Purchased an apartment for his son in Munich, value 300,000 Marks.

Evidence:

Bank transfer records, copy of the purchase contract, a "thank you" letter personally signed by Krause.

Weakness:

Engaged in an extramarital affair with a journalist in Bonn.

Werner slowly flipped through the pages. Each one was like a knife hanging over these men's heads.

The second folder: "Friedrich Schwartz, Director, West German Ministry of Foreign Affairs."

Bribery Record:

1975: Received a "consulting fee" of 50,000 Marks.

1977: Participated in Werner's "investment project," profiting by 150,000 Marks.

Evidence:

Consulting contract, investment agreement, bank statements.

Weakness:

Daughter studying in the United States, tuition "sponsored" by Werner.

The third, fourth, fifth... a total of twenty-three folders, twenty-three West German officials. Some were from the Ministry of the Interior, some from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and a few were from intelligence agencies.

Werner closed the folders, picked up the phone, and dialed the first number.

"Hello?"

"Deputy Director Krause? This is Werner Betelich." His tone was calm, as if just making small talk. "Sorry to bother you."

The line went silent for a few seconds, then a wary voice came through: "Betelich? What do you want?"

"Nothing much, just wanted to see how you were doing," Werner said slowly. "How is your son? He was a bit short on funds when he bought that house in Munich back in the day."

Krause's breathing audibly quickened. "What... What are you trying to do?"

"I'm not trying to do anything," Werner's tone remained placid. "I just wanted to let you know that I've received a summons from the East Berlin District Court. They intend to prosecute me for illegal transfer of state assets, money laundering, that sort of thing."

"What... What does that have to do with me?"

"Perhaps nothing," Werner paused. "But as you know, during a trial, the prosecutor asks a lot of questions. For instance, how my money was transferred to West Germany, and what... friends... I have in West Germany."

Krause's voice became sharp. "Are you threatening me?"

"No, no, no, Mr. Deputy Director, you misunderstand," Werner's tone was sincere. "I just wanted to give you a heads-up, so you won't be surprised when you see my name in the papers."

The other end of the line was silent for a long time.

"Betelich," Krause said, his voice low. "What is it you really want?"

"I don't want anything," Werner flicked his ash. "I just think it would be better for everyone if certain things were never brought up. Don't you agree?"

Another stretch of silence.

"I... I understand," Krause's voice was weary. "I'll... handle it."

"Excellent." Werner smiled. "I won't keep you any longer, Mr. Deputy Director."

After hanging up, Werner made a mark on the folder, then dialed the second number, the third, the fourth...

Every call was short, every conversation subtle. He didn't threaten or intimidate, merely offered a "friendly" notice that he was going to court and might be asked some "inconvenient" questions.

By the time he had made all twenty-three calls, it was already afternoon.

Werner locked the folders back in the safe, picked up the phone, and dialed a number in West Berlin.

"This is Werner."

A deep male voice came from the other end: "Werner. I was waiting for your call."

"I've received the summons," Werner's tone was calm.

"I heard." Werner paused. "Werner, you've provided us with a great deal of intelligence over the years and helped West Germany a lot. We won't forget that."

Werner said nothing, just listened quietly.

"We will find an appropriate way to let the court know about your contributions," Werner's voice grew lower. "But you must also understand that we cannot intervene openly. The reunification negotiations are still ongoing. This sort of thing must be handled discreetly."

"I understand."

"Also," Werner paused for a moment. "Werner, don't do anything rash. You know what I mean."

Werner laughed. "Of course I do."

"Good." Werner sounded relieved. "Stay in touch."

After hanging up, Werner lit another cigarette and smoked it slowly.

Of course he knew what Werner meant—don't get desperate and reveal the financial and stock transactions between him and West Germany's BND. The companies West German officials helped him establish in the West, the shares he held as a silent partner, the annual dividends... if all that came to light, it would ignite a political scandal in West Germany.

The West German Federal Intelligence Agency letting an East German official become a shareholder in a West German company? The opposition party would grill them to death over that.

So Werner would help him, because helping him was helping the BND.

Werner extinguished his cigarette, picked up the phone again, and this time, dialed a number in Washington.

"Charlie."

"Werner?" The voice on the other end had a lazy drawl. "What's up? Bad weather in Berlin?"

"I've run into a bit of trouble," Werner said calmly. "An East German prosecutor is bringing charges against me."

"Oh?" Charlie laughed. "That's not good. But Werner, a sharp guy like you must have been prepared for this, right?"

"I've made my preparations," Werner paused. "But I think it would be safer if the CIA could express a little... concern."

"Concern?" Charlie scoffed. "Werner, you know we can't just interfere in another country's legal proceedings. Besides, they're just doing a routine check over there in East Berlin. Nothing will come of it."

Werner didn't reply immediately, instead flicking his cigarette ash.

"You're right," he said slowly. "It is just a routine check, after all. But..."

"But what?"

"But I was just thinking," Werner's tone remained even, "if the prosecutor really digs deep, certain questions might come up in court. For instance, who I've been in contact with all these years, who I've been providing intelligence for, who helped me open my accounts in the West."

Charlie's voice suddenly turned serious. "Are you threatening me?"

"Not a threat, Charlie," Werner leaned back in his chair. "I'm just stating a fact. If the trial is public, the CIA's dealings with an East German official, its intelligence network, could be exposed. That wouldn't be good for the United States either, would it?"

The line was silent for a long time.

"Werner," Charlie finally said, the laziness completely gone from his voice, "you son of a bitch. You're always such a headache."

"I just want to survive."

"I know." Charlie sighed. "Give me some time. I need to report this up the chain."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Charlie sneered. "Werner, remember this. You owe us one."

"I'll remember."

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

The rain was coming down harder now, blurring the street outside.

If he went all out in court and exposed the CIA's intelligence network in East Germany, it would be a major embarrassment for President Bush.

So the CIA would help him. They had to.

Werner stood in the office for a while longer, then picked up his coat and walked out.

It was evening when he got home. Werner took off his soaked coat, poured a glass of whiskey, and sat on the sofa. The phone rang.

It was Anna.

"Werner, I just got word. Colonel von Brown is in prison, and he says he's going to turn you in."