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Capital, a reward for services rendered? Now they would make good on that promise.
    His growing legions had lapped it up, helping him to take the place from those who were already in residence - hopelessly outmatched amateurs playing at being soldiers. The skirmish had lasted less than five hours.
    Now his forces owned not only the building, but most of Berlin. And he was working on the rest of Germany; already they had stretched into Hamburg, Magdeburg, Leipzig and Dresden. He might not be as big as the Tsar yet, but it was a start. As with the terrorism, it was all about expansion, which kept not only his troops occupied but also ensured a comfortable standard of living for him. It might not be about money anymore, but he had people at his beck and call. What's more, he was safe in a world where that word no longer had much meaning for most people. Loewe knew that any number of his men would willingly give their lives for him; were already doing so out there.
    He descended the levels with his dogs, hands behind his back, heading towards the main control centre. Striding inside, he noted the maps on walls with dots on them, the table with a miniature landscape built on top: models of tanks, jeeps and soldiers covering it - everything Loewe imagined a command centre should look like, in fact. He, of all people, knew how important it was to look the part. Men in uniform were busying themselves, some on radios, others looking at the charts and discussing how their plans to take over the country and beyond were going. Because they weren't a force the size of Russia's, they couldn't just invade a country outright. No, they had to play things a bit more subtly. At the moment his Army of the New Order had its fingers in a lot of pies, covert agents in every country you could think of. But Loewe wasn't doing this simply to take over the world; rather to take out any other opposition before they came looking for him . It was all about security again. He'd made himself a target over here, and it was only a matter of time before the Tsar or another warlord came to challenge him. The only thing that had put them off so far was that Loewe talked a good battle, spreading rumours that they were much better armed and equipped then they actually were. That and the fact they were committed fanatics. Nobody would be stupid enough to go after the Nazis unless they absolutely had to, or were completely assured of a victory.
    The men all stood to attention when they saw him, but he told them to be at ease. He walked through the area, pretending to be interested, peering at a few maps and nodding. Really, he just wanted to get to his office which was on the other side. It amused him when the men parted to let his dogs through, standing well back so that they wouldn't even brush against the dangerous-looking creatures.
    Loewe's spacious office had been furnished to his specifications - lined on one side with books he would never read, while on the other was a well stocked bar. A huge oak table had been positioned near the window, with a reclining leather chair behind and an antique globe of the world not far away, which he would spin whenever he got bored. He had been inside only a few minutes, having just had time to sit down - the dogs taking up positions on either side of the desk - when there was a knock at the door. Loewe spread out papers in front of him and picked one up to study it, before shouting, "Enter!"
    It was his Second, young Schaefer, who dealt with the day-to-day running of their New Order. Behind those eyes, shielded by thick-rimmed glasses, was a frighteningly large intellectual capacity. Loewe was more than happy to let the man deal with organisational matters and supervise military operations, just as long as he was kept in the loop every step of the way. Which was what Schaefer was doing here now.
    "I was just about to send for you," Loewe lied. "I wanted an update on the situation in-"
    "Sir, I come with grave news