Chapter 395 - 40: The Trust Agency’s Inside Player

Werner smiled. "Mr. Stein, you're free to think that. But ten years from now, when you look back on this period of history, you might have a different opinion."

"Why?"

"Because by then," Werner said, "you'll realize there's not much difference between a so-called speculator and an entrepreneur. The only difference is who wins and who loses."

Stein was stunned.

Werner stood up and walked him to the door. "History only remembers the victors. And I intend to be a victor."

***********

In late July, Werner made a decision.

He took out two million West German Marks and donated them to various charities.

Pastor Weber's church received 500,000, Mariana's environmental organization received 300,000, a "Democracy Foundation" formed by several former political prisoners received 500,000, and several schools and orphanages in East Germany received 700,000.

Pastor Weber met with Werner in his church.

"Werner, you don't have to do this..."

"No, I need to," Werner said. "Pastor Weber, you've helped me so much over the years. This is something I should do."

"But such a large sum of money..."

"This isn't just a thank you," Werner said. "It's also an investment."

Pastor Weber was taken aback. "An investment?"

"An investment in the future," Werner said. "Pastor Weber, a new era requires new rules. I want to become a respected businessman in this new era. Not a despised speculator."

Pastor Weber looked at him, silent for a long time, and finally said, "Werner, you are a clever man. But clever men often find it difficult to attain true salvation."

"I don't need salvation," Werner said. "I just need an opportunity."

Leaving the church, Werner slipped into his Mercedes-Benz.

The driver, Thomas, asked, "Where to, boss?"

"Back to the office," Werner said. "We still have a lot of work to do."

The car drove through the streets of East Berlin. On both sides of the road were old signs being dismantled and new shops being built.

West German businessmen had already swarmed in, rushing to buy up East German land and factories.

Adidas, BMW, Siemens—these West German giants were using the West German Mark to redraw the economic map of East Germany.

Werner knew that the monetary union was just the first step.

Next was privatization.

The Trust Agency was preparing to sell off more than 8,000 of East Germany's state-owned enterprises. This was the largest-scale privatization in Europe since World War II, and also the greatest redistribution of wealth.

Werner was ready.

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

The Trust Agency building was located on Leipzig Street. This gray, Soviet-style building was once the headquarters of the East German State Planning Commission. Now, it had a new name: The Trust Agency.

The entrance was packed with luxury cars, mostly Mercedes-Benzes and BMWs from West Germany.

A crowd of West German officials and businessmen in crisp suits bustled in and out, carrying briefcases, their faces screaming the word "opportunity."

Werner's car was parked across the street. He didn't get out right away. Instead, he lit a cigarette and quietly watched the building.

"Boss," his driver Thomas asked, "aren't we going in?"

"No rush," Werner said, exhaling a puff of smoke. "Let the bullets fly for a while."

Thomas didn't understand what that meant, but he knew his boss always had his reasons.

Werner watched the West Germans. They were excited, eager, greedy. They looked at East Germany like a gold mine—more than 8,000 state-owned enterprises, waiting to be bought up for cheap.

But they had no idea how many landmines were buried in that gold mine.

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

The first director of the Trust Agency was a West German named Loweider. He was in his fifties and had been a senior executive at an automobile company. He was very capable, but there was one problem—he knew nothing about East Germany.

In fact, most of the officials at the Trust Agency had been sent from West Germany. They brought with them West German efficiency, West German standards, and West German arrogance.

But they didn't know that East Germany was not West Germany.

Werner stubbed out his cigarette and pushed the car door open.

"Let's go."

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

Inside the Trust Agency building, it was a hive of activity.

The hallways were piled high with filing boxes, the offices were packed with people, and phones were ringing off the hook.

Werner went to the third floor and knocked on an office door.

"Come in."

Inside the office sat a middle-aged man in his early forties, wearing glasses and a crisp suit. His desk was piled high with documents, along with a cup of cold coffee.

"Hans!" Werner said with a smile as he walked in.

Hans Mueller, deputy director of the Trust Agency's Corporate Evaluation Department, an official sent from West Germany. Werner had met him three months ago—introduced by a West German friend at a dinner party.

"Werner," Hans said, standing up to shake his hand, a weary smile on his face. "Perfect timing. These East German companies are driving me crazy."

"Is it that bad?"

"Bad?" Hans gave a wry smile and pointed at the documents on his desk. "Take a look at this. We have to evaluate more than 8,000 companies, but every single one of them has books that are a complete mess. Some don't have proper financial statements at all, some have fake balance sheets, and others... others don't even know what assets they actually have."

Werner sat down and picked up a file to look through.

It was an evaluation report for a textile factory in Leipzig. The report was detailed, but Werner spotted the problem at a glance.

"Hans," Werner said, "what's your valuation for this textile factory?"

"According to the books, about eight million Marks," Hans said. "But we suspect its actual value is even lower. The equipment is old, there are no orders, and worker morale is low..."

"Eight million?" Werner laughed. "Hans, this factory isn't worth that much."

"Why?"

"Because the factory's equipment is an antique from the sixties," Werner said. "In West Germany, this kind of machinery would have been phased out long ago. What's more, during the East German era, this factory primarily produced military textiles for the Soviet army. Now that the Soviets have withdrawn their troops, all its orders are gone."

Hans frowned. "How do you know all this in such detail?"

"Because I dealt with this factory when I was working at Koko," Werner said. "I remember it clearly. The factory director's name is Kurt, an old stubborn mule who refused any technological upgrades. They didn't even do basic maintenance on their equipment."

Hans was stunned.

Werner continued flipping through the files, pointing out more problems.

"This chemical plant—the books say it has 50 hectares of land, but in reality, 30 of those hectares are a contaminated zone that can't be developed at all."

"This machinery factory claims to have patented technology, but those patents are from the seventies. They've been obsolete in West Germany for ages."

"This shipyard looks big, but it can only build small cargo ships. It can't compete with modern shipyards in West Germany at all."

Hans was dumbfounded.

"Werner," he said, putting down his pen and looking at Werner seriously, "could you... systematically help us with an evaluation?"

Werner smiled. "Hans, that's exactly why I'm here."