As the train rushed through mid-Essex, ace Returning Officer Mark Valladares reflected over his glass of Fleurie. It had been a difficult year in his mission to bring democracy to Liberal Youth but there was a sense that, this time, he might have found a solution that worked.
At least, this time the blood stains had been cleaned up before rumours started, the assassination squad had slipped into the night unnoticed and, all in all, it looked like a tidy job. Oh yes, there had been issues. Ottawa had only come through at the last moment, there were newspaper articles condemning the use of British passports by his agents, and there had been differences of opinion regarding the exchange of hostages in a notorious London hostelry. At least the availability of Timothy Taylor's Landlord had settled that one without too much rancour.
And all that was left was to declare the result. A glass of calvados awaited, and Agent Cincinnati was guarding the ballot papers. The grounds of the castle were booby-trapped to deter anyone foolish enough to try to intervene, yes, all was ready.
Mark smiled in anticipation of an easy count...