The deputy-minister was riding in the ministerial carriage of the train. She was traveling to the minister’s country residence for the weekend. A deputy-minister wouldn’t travel in the ministerial carriage without the minister being present - but the minister had made special arrangements for the deputy-minister to travel without him.

The ministerial carriage was ornate. There was a lounge, dining room, kitchen, and a bedroom. The lounge had plump brown leather sofas, and a walnut table with a large glass ashtray in the middle of it. The walls of the lounge were dark oak, and the windows had elegant pale blue curtains that could be drawn. Above the sofas and the walnut coffee table hung a baby chandelier, lit with tiny yellow candle bulbs. There was a drinks cabinet stocked with whiskey, port, gin, and rum - and a humidor with cigars from the Caribbean. There was also a large wooden radio - with dials and gauges on the front.

The deputy-minister was sitting in the lounge with a whiskey and soda in front of her on the wooden table. She was smoking a thin cigar - and the air above her hung like a blue mist. The green countryside whizzed past the carriage windows, as the deputy-minister sat and relaxed in the refined comfort of the ministerial carriage.

The minister had called the deputy-minister and invited her to his country house to discuss changes he was planning for the Ministry of State Security and Policing. It was a rare honor to be invited to the minister’s country residence. The deputy-minister had only been invited once before - and that occasion wasn’t a one-on-one meeting. It was a Roman winter solstice themed party that the minister had arranged. The party was 24-hours of drinking, eating, and debauchery. The following day the minister had arranged a pheasant shoot, and then packed everyone off. The guest list had included a who’s who of party members and high ranking ministerial officials.

This time the deputy-minister and only the deputy-minister had been invited for a weekend in the country. The minister had told the deputy-minister that it would be more relaxed than formal. The minister had requested that the deputy-minister bring her boots and clothes for shooting. They would have dinner together on the Saturday evening, and then they would go duck shooting on the Sunday morning. The deputy-minister would be getting the train back to Victorious on Sunday afternoon - and the minister would be traveling with her in the ministerial carriage.

The train journey from Victorious to the nearest train station to the minister’s country home took about four hours by train, and then another 40 minutes drive to the house.

About an hour had passed on the train journey. The deputy-minister was on her second whiskey and soda - and her third thin cigar. There was a knock at the door of the lounge.

‘What?’ - The deputy-minister spat.

A gray man dressed in bright red footman livery entered the lounge.

‘Lunch will be served in 5 minutes, Deputy-minister’ - the gray man bowed, and then left the lounge, closing the door behind him.

The deputy-minister did not reply. She turned her gaze back out to the green fields and countryside that the train was passing by. The deputy-minister puffed on her cigar, and sipped her whiskey and soda.

A one-on-one meeting with the minister, the deputy-minister thought. Maybe the minister wants my thoughts on the structure and how things could be changed?. Maybe the minister wants to congratulate the deputy-minister on the close collaboration between operations and the secret service on the Camelot operation? Or maybe the minister wanted to congratulate the deputy-minister on the reduction in shootings and deaths of proles? Or perhaps the minister wanted to discuss the Commander? The Commander had been sick and resting for weeks now - and the rumors had it that he wasn’t going to make it. The Commander was a war hero, and had led the operations unit of the People’s Ministry for State Security and Policing for 30 years. The Commander was close to the minister. They had fought together during the war - and were both early members of the Party.

The Commander had led the purges after the war - and had worked with the fledgling government on the creation of the state security apparatus. The minister had fought his battles after the war in the halls of power, out-maneuvering his political opponents. The Commander had preferred to keep his uniform, and his gun - and to fight his battles on the streets and in the shadows.

But the Commander was old now, and he had been so for a long while now. The Commander hadn’t been to his office for months now, and now he had been in his bed for weeks. The minister would let the Commander keep his uniform and his gun - let him stay in his bed, and let him die in his bed. The minister would give the Commander a proper funeral - and a prime plot in the Party’s cemetery. But the minister would want to know who the deputy-minister thinks should replace the Commander.

This is what the minister wanted to talk about - the deputy-minister puffed her cigar and then stubbed it out. The deputy-minister picked up her whiskey and soda and gulped it back in one.

The deputy-minister stood and walked to the door of the lounge, and opened it. She walked into the dining room and the gray man in his bright red footman’s livery bowed. The gray man was standing next to the table, which had a white table cloth covering it.

The dining room was larger than the lounge, and the dining table could accommodate six people. The dining room was paneled with the same dark oak as the lounge, with pale blue curtains at the windows. Above the dining table hung a baby chandelier.

The dining table was set for one person. There was a small arrangement of pretty flowers in a silver vase in the middle of the table. There was a silver salt and pepper shaker, and a smaller glass ashtray.

The cutlery was set for a soup course, a fish course, and a dessert course. There was a bread basket with fresh, warm bread buns and a silver pot containing cold butter. Next to the place setting was a side plate and butter knife. There were three glasses. A wine glass, a water glass, and a Champagne coupe.

The gray man pulled the chair out from where the place setting was, and the deputy-minister sat down and was helped in by the gray man. The gray man picked up a crisp white napkin and unfurled it before placing it on the deputy minister’s lap.

‘Would the deputy-minister care for some wine with her lunch?’ - The gray man asked.

‘Champagne’ - said the deputy-minister, lighting a thin cigar.

Behind the gray man was a serving trolley with a silver soup terrine placed on top of it. Next to the soup terrine was a bottle of red wine standing up, an ice bucket containing a bottle of white wine, and a bottle of Champagne.

The gray man picked up a crisp white cloth and pulled the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. The gray man twisted the cork holder to remove the cover, and then pulled the cork out making a loud popping sound. The gray man poured the champagne for the deputy-minister.

The deputy-minister picked up the champagne glass and took a gulp without saying a word.

The gray man slid open the front of the serving trolley and pulled out a warm white soup bowl. The gray man then removed the lid of the soup terrine and ladled some soup into the bowl. The gray man then replaced the lid of the soup terrine and placed the soup in front of the deputy-minister.

‘Pea and ham soup, deputy-minister’ - the gray man said, bowing and stepping back. He wheeled the serving trolley out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

The deputy-minister placed her thin cigar in the ashtray and picked up the soup spoon. The deputy-minister tasted the soup, and it tasted good. The deputy-minister picked up a fresh, warm bun and tore it into two, buttering both halves. The deputy-minister dipped the bread into the soup and then ate it. The deputy-minister drank more soup, swigged more champagne, and smoked more of her thin cigar.

The gray man reappeared with the serving trolley. The gray man took the champagne from the ice bucket, and refilled the deputy-minister’s glass. The soup terrine had been replaced with a large silver chafing dish.

‘Finished, deputy-minister?’ - The gray man said.

‘Yes’ - the deputy minister said, puffing her cigar and drinking more champagne.

The gray man removed the soup bowl and placed it on the serving trolley next to the chafing dish. The gray man slid open the front of the serving trolley and took out a warm plate which he placed in front of the deputy-minister.

The gray man lifted the top of the chafing trolley and removed a silver platter, closing the lid after him.

The gray man placed the platter on the table next to the deputy-minister. The silver platter had a pan-fried Dover sole on it. The gray man began the process of fileting the Dover sole with a silver fish knife and fork. When the gray man had finished fileting the Dover sole, he placed the filet on the deputy-minister’s plate. The gray man then picked up the silver platter and opened the top of the chafing tray, placing the silver platter back inside. The gray man took out a separate tray and returned to the table.

‘Vegetables, deputy-minister?’ - The gray man asked.

The silver platter had haricot vert, baton carrots, and pommes Parisienne.

‘Yes’ - said the deputy-minister, still smoking her thin cigar.

The gray man offered the deputy-minister a serving of the vegetables using a silver spoon and fork. When the gray man had completed serving the vegetables, he returned to the chafing tray and opened it again, placing the vegetable tray back inside of it. The gray man took a silver saucière from the chafing tray. The gray man picked up a silver spoon and stirred the sauce inside the saucière before returning to the table.

‘Meunière sauce, deputy-minister?’ - The gray man said.

‘What is it?’ - Asked the deputy-minister.

‘Brown sugar, butter, chopped parsley, and lemon sauce, deputy-minister’ - the gray man said, stirring the sauce.

‘Yes’ - the deputy-minister said.

The gray man leaned over the deputy-minister’s plate and spooned the sauce over the Dover sole.

‘Would you care for anything else, deputy-minister?’ - The gray man asked, stepping backwards away from the table.

‘No’ - said the deputy-minister.

The gray man bowed and placed the saucière on top of the serving trolley next to the chafing tray and wheeled the serving trolley out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

The deputy-minister puffed her cigar, and then stubbed it out. The train continued to rattle and shake, and the green countryside continued to move past the windows of the ministerial carriage.

The deputy-minister picked up her knife and fork, cutting into the Dover sole with the rich, buttery sauce. It was delicious.

All this special treatment from the minister. Using the ministerial carriage, the private invite to a weekend in the countryside.

The minister isn’t getting any younger - just as the Commander is in his bed waiting to die, it won't be long until the minister is wanting to be more laid back. Step away from the halls of power. The minister already spends half of his time in the country shooting, maybe he is thinking about making it more permanent.

A lifetime of rising up, and then revolution, and then war, and then ruling. The deputy-minister reckoned that the minister must be in his seventies. Maybe late seventies. His hair is white, and his face is old. His eyes - green like emeralds - haven’t dulled, but they are more interested in looking over the rolling countryside with his beloved dogs running before him than looking at the inside of another politburo meeting.

Maybe that is why the minister wanted to have this private meeting, the deputy-minister thought. He has risen up, he has revolted, he has won the war, and he has ruled - now he wants to spend his time - what is left - not in a bed waiting to die, but where he feels most alive. In the country with his dogs, hunting.

The deputy-minister chewed a pommes Parisienne, and then washed it down with more champagne. The deputy-minister ate about half of the main course. She pushed her plate away, and then lit another thin cigar.

‘More champagne!’ - The deputy-minister shouted.

The gray man reentered the dining room with the serving trolley. He took the champagne bottle from the ice bucket and poured more champagne into the deputy-minister’s glass.

‘Are you finished, deputy-minister?’ - The gray man asked, returning the champagne to the ice bucket.

‘Yes - I don’t want anything more to eat. I am going to sleep for an hour. Wake me when we are thirty minutes out from the station - do you understand?’ - The deputy-minister instructed, puffing her thin cigar and drinking more champagne.

‘Yes deputy-minister’ - the gray man bowed and took the half eaten plate of food away from the front of the deputy-minister.

‘You can go now’ - the deputy-minister snapped.

‘Yes, deputy-minister’ - the gray man bowed again and then placed the plate on top of the serving trolley and wheeled it back into the kitchen.

The deputy-minister took her champagne glass with her back to the lounge. She wasn’t allowed to use the bedroom - that was for the minister only. A little drunk, the deputy-minister kicked off her shoes and took off her jacket. She finished her cigar and champagne, and then stretched out on the plump leather sofa and fell asleep.