“I’ll start the interviews tomorrow morning,” she said, “and begin with the junior project leads. I’ll have to talk to you and Monsieur Voclaine as well, of course, but that’s just a formality. If I email you a schedule tonight, could you forward it to the appropriate managers? Then I’ll just go and fetch people myself.”
“Oh, you won’t be able to do that. Your lanyard is only cleared for level B-Limité, which will get you in and out of the main door, and the common areas. Bathrooms, the kitchen, lunch table area, that sort of thing. We’ve also added the necessary access to this office, but that’s all. If you want to go anywhere else, you’ll need to ask my secretary to escort you. And you can email her the list, as well — just CC me and François. I’ll get you added to the internal directory, so you can call people when you’re ready to see them.” He stood, preparing to leave. “Anyway, good luck. And thanks for the tip, it’s good to know Whitehall is pleased with how it’s all going here. We’re a little isolated, to be honest.”
Bridge smiled. “Well, just remember that you didn’t hear it from me.”
Montgomery paused at the door. “Where are you staying? Did they put you up somewhere?”
“Little guest house on the edge of town. I gather Agenbeux isn’t exactly teeming with hotels.”
“Well, do keep me apprised, Ms Short. And if there’s anything you need to know about how the facility is run, I’m the man to ask.”
Bridge waited till he was out of sight before rolling her eyes.
29
Naturally, she approached it like a programmer.
She’d spent the weekend in the CTA unit office, going through the preliminary Agenbeux staff files to eliminate personnel who scored as low-risk on the standard metrics. Identifying a mole was more of an art than a science, to be sure, and an HR file could only say so much. If nothing came up from her questioning of the people remaining, still a daunting fifty-three members of staff, she’d go back to the people she initially eliminated and take a closer look. But, at this early stage, it seemed safe to give them a pass for now.
One section where nobody got a pass was the project facility’s upper management, from coding directors through studio managers, and all the way up to Voclaine and Montgomery themselves. No matter what their files said, no matter how they measured up on the metrics, everyone with direct report underlings was to be questioned and examined.
The method of questioning was equally formulaic. Big spreadsheet, methodical set of questions, checkboxes and custom drop-downs for answers, metrics to flag and score responses, the works. If anyone asked, Bridge would shrug and say a nice young man in the civil service had made it for her, and she just filled in the blanks. They’d believe that without a second thought. The French-English split on the project was roughly 65/35 per cent, but the male-female ratio stood at 90/10. And many of those ten per cent were maintenance staff, not coders.
Bridge lowered the window blinds around the room, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
Ten. And breathe, and count. Nine. And breathe, and count. Eight…
When she reached zero she opened her eyes, exhaled hard, and began calling the interviewees. They filed in, inevitably annoyed at the interruption to their work by this busybody from London, and reluctantly answered her busybody questions.
Are your working hours shorter than you expected, longer than you expected, or about what you expected?
“Longer.”
“Shorter, but less so than I expected. I thought the French had really short hours?”
“Longer than what they told me, but I knew they underestimated. They always do.”
“I don’t really notice, once I get stuck into the code.”
“Longer, because it takes too much time to get through the entrance security.”
“Longer. That’s why I smoke.”
Does the work here fulfil your professional desires?
“Yes.”
“Absolutely. This is the future, man.”
“Not really, but it’s a step up toward management.”
“I wish I could tell people about it.”
“It might, if people would stop wasting my time with stupid questions.”
Do you feel your opinion and viewpoint are considered valuable to the direction of the project?
“God, no. I just do what I’m told.”
“I’m a project lead. They’d struggle to achieve their aims without me.”
“Sometimes. Mainly when they happen to be the same as my manager’s.”
“We’re just the workers. Nobody listens to us.”
“No, but they should. I’ve found some possible implementation flaws, but my project lead won’t escalate.”
Given the chance to move to another role here, what would you choose and why?
“I’d be a project lead. We do all the work while they take all the credit.”
“No, I think I’m most useful where I am.”
“I might move to Target Balancing. I’m really interested in that procedure.”
“I’d run the place. And a damn sight better, let me tell you.”
Do you think you’re paid well enough?
(A trick question: answering ‘yes’ would immediately raise Bridge’s suspicions. Nobody did.)
Are you under any undue stress?
“What do you think?”
“Yeah, it’s stressful. That’s what we signed up for, what we’re paid for.”
“Define ‘undue’.”
“People round here are cry-babies, they can’t handle a bit of pressure.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Every bloody day.”
Do you feel comfortable addressing issues with your direct superior?
“Why shouldn’t I? We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”
“I can barely talk to him about what I had for lunch.”
“No idea, I haven’t had any issues to discuss.”
How difficult is it to conceal your work here from family and friends?
“I just don’t talk about work at all.”
“I have to be careful how much I drink, you know?”
“I wish I didn’t have to. I mean, couldn’t I at least tell my girlfriend?”
“We’re doing important work, but all my friends think I make the stupid tills for Leclerc.”
“Not difficult at all. It’s ‘top secret’ for a reason, right?”
By the second day Bridge had become rather efficient at getting people in and out of the process, but she calculated she’d still need the
