A Spy by Nature - Charles Cumming [29]
*
Keith is waiting for us in the common room, idling near the coffee machine. But as soon as we are all inside, he instructs us to follow him back down the corridor to begin the first of the written examinations. There is no time to relax, no time to ruminate or grab a drink. They won’t let the pressure off until five o’clock this evening, and then it starts all over again tomorrow.
On the way to the classroom, Elaine and Ann peel away from the group to go to the loo. This flusters Keith. While Ogilvy, the Hobbit and I are taking our seats in the classroom, he lurks nervously in the corridor, waiting for their return.
The Hobbit, who has taken a seat by the window, grabs this opportunity to tuck into yet another cereal bar. Ogilvy returns to his previous spot at the back of the room. To annoy him I move to the desk nearest his, close in and to the left. For a moment it looks as though he may move, but politeness checks him. He looks across at me and smiles very slowly.
With no sign of Elaine and Ann, Keith trundles back in, head bowed, and starts handing out a thick pink booklet which he leaves face down on every candidate’s desk. The Hobbit thanks him through the crumbly munch of his mid-morning snack and Ogilvy begins twirling a pencil in his right hand, rotating it quickly through his fingers like a helicopter blade. It’s a poser’s party trick and it doesn’t come off: the pencil spins out of his hand and clatters on to the lino between our two desks. I make no attempt to retrieve it, so Ogilvy has to bend down uncomfortably to pick it up. As he is doing so, Elaine and Ann bustle in, sharing the cosy mutual smiles and solidarity of women returning from a shared trip to the loo.
‘This section of the Sisby programme is known as the Policy Exercise,’ Keith says, beginning his introductory talk before they have had a chance to sit down. He’s on a strict timetable, and he’s sticking to it. ‘It is a two-hour written paper in which you will be asked to analyse a large quantity of complex written material, to identify the main points and issues, and to write a thorough and cogently argued case for one of three possible options.’
I stare at the pink booklet and pray for something other than shellfish.
‘You may start when you are ready. I will let you know when one hour of the examination has passed, and again when there are ten minutes of the exercise remaining’
A crackle of paper, an intake of breath, the incidental noises of beginning. Here we go again.
The document outlines the difficulties surrounding the planned construction of a by-pass near the southerly commuter town of Dorton. (To my knowledge no such town exists, so this must be the Civil Service’s idea of using their imagination.)
The text inside takes the form of a series of mocked-up letters, memos, newspaper articles, speeches, e-mails and faxes. These have been written by parties concerned with the building of the road: government ministers, civil servants, journalists, local residents, even the Mayor of Dorton. Some are in favour of its construction, others are not.
The first item in the booklet, for example, is a ‘confidential’ two-page letter written by the Minister of State for Transport. She is keen to get a decision on the by-pass before Parliament’s summer recess, not least because the government wants to avoid the issue becoming a battleground for environmentalists. She points out the benefits of the five-mile ring-road both for Dorton itself, where traffic congestion would be sharply reduced, and for long-distance lorry drivers gaining quicker access to the Channel ports. There is the added benefit, too, of job creation through restaurants and petrol stations along the by-pass.
In subsequent pages there are documents supporting the Minister’s view from, among others, a representative of the Transport and General Workers’ Union. But there are others, equally persuasive, criticizing it. In particular, there are several groups and individuals worried about the damage road construction would cause