《信息币（亲友敲的一棒）》用其他笔名

5、第 5 章

　　Cyril stood his ground, uncertain whether to follow or to remain.
　　Charles had his back to him, his hands braced on the desk, his shoulders trembling slightly.
　　"Cyril." The voice was hoarse.
　　"Minister?"
　　"Did you know? About him... about all of this?"
　　Cyril hesitated. "I knew Sir had conducted a background briefing, but as for the specific contents..."
　　"You're a good subordinate. Loyal, discreet. You know what to say and what not to say." Charles gave a bitter laugh.
　　He turned, and the expression on his face made Cyril's stomach clench. It wasn't anger. It was something deeper—disappointment, perhaps. Or disillusionment.
　　"Tell me, Cyril," Charles walked slowly back to his desk and sat down, his voice regaining its composure. "In your Civil Service training, is there a course on 'How to Manipulate Your Minister'?"
　　"No, Minister," Cyril chose his words carefully. "But there is a module on 'Understanding the Needs of Political Leadership'."
　　Charles smiled, a thin, ironic smile. "'Understanding needs'. What a delicate turn of phrase."
　　He stood again, returning to the whiteboard, and began to draw. A circle, labelled 'Minister'. Another, labelled 'Perm. Sec.'. He then drew a myriad of lines between them.
　　"You see, Cyril," he said, pointing. "I thought these lines represented communication, cooperation, a shared goal. But now I understand. These lines are actually..." He drew an arrowhead on each line, every single one pointing at 'Minister'.
　　"Control. Each one an invisible string." Charles looked at Cyril.
　　Cyril did not know what to say.
　　"But," Charles paused. "He was right about one thing. I cannot tolerate being marginalised. And I will prove my own value."
　　With that, Charles returned to his desk and picked up the telephone.
　　"Get me the Treasury," he said into the receiver. "I wish to speak to the Chief Secretary... Yes, now."
　　Cyril watched him, astonished.
　　"Charles Hyde, Department of Synergy Coordination," Charles's voice was now full of energy. "I'd like to discuss the possibility of inter-departmental budget coordination... Yes, I know it sounds radical... No, I am not joking..."
　　After hanging up, he immediately dialled another number.
　　"Home Office? I need your Permanent Secretary..."
　　One after another, Charles made seven or eight calls, each one proposing some form of coordination. Some were politely rebuffed, others met with a vague promise to consider. Charles seemed entirely unconcerned.
　　"Minister," Cyril finally interjected. "What are you doing?"
　　"I'm creating noise," Charles said, dialling again. "Since Alistair believes I need to be 'guided', I shall let him see what chaos an unguided Minister can create."
　　"But this..."
　　"This what?" Charles cut him off. "Violates procedure? Lacks discretion? That is precisely the effect I'm aiming for."
　　The door to the Permanent Secretary's office opened suddenly. Alistair stood in the doorway, his expression complex.
　　"Minister," he began slowly. "I have just received calls from three separate departments... They are expressing some confusion at your... enthusiasm."
　　"Confusion?" Charles smiled, his eyes locking onto Alistair's grey-green ones. "Excellent. Whitehall could do with a little more confusion, and a little less self-assured certainty."
　　The two men stared at each other, a dangerous tension filling the air.
　　"If you are trying to prove a point..." Alistair paused. "This is not the correct way."
　　"Oh?" Charles crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "And what is the correct way? Let me guess—to follow the path you've laid out for me, step by step? To be your puppet on a string?"
　　"I have never considered anyone a... puppet," Alistair's voice took on a trace of emotion. "I was merely..."
　　"Merely what?"
　　"Attempting to avoid unnecessary damage," Alistair said. "Including to your political future."
　　"My political future? You think that's what I care about?" He stepped towards Alistair until they were close enough to hear each other breathe.
　　"I care about not being played for a fool," Charles said, enunciating every word. "I care about sincerity. I care that when I thought I was speaking to a friend, the other party wasn't compiling a psychological profile on me."
　　Alistair was silent.
　　"Minister," he finally said. "If my methods have given you offence, I apologise. But please believe, my objective was always to..."
　　"Enough." Charles turned away. "I don't wish to hear about your objectives. Not today."
　　He returned to his desk, opened a red box, and began to read.
　　Alistair watched the top of Charles's head. "There is a departmental meeting tomorrow morning. The agenda will be with you shortly."
　　"I shall read it," Charles said without looking up.
　　Alistair stood for a moment, then turned to leave.
　　"Minister," he said from the doorway, his back to Charles. "Those conversations on Christmas Eve... they were not entirely for intelligence gathering."
　　The door closed once more.
　　Charles looked up, staring at the closed door.
　　Cyril cleared his throat and stepped forward cautiously. "Minister, shall I..."
　　"Arrange meetings for tomorrow," Charles interrupted, his voice back to its usual tone. "With every Departmental Liaison Officer you can get hold of. Tell them the Department of Synergy Coordination is about to begin its real work."
　　"Yes, Minister." Cyril turned to go.
　　"Cyril."
　　"Minister?"
　　"What do you think he meant by that last sentence?"
　　Cyril rocked on his heels, choosing his words. "Perhaps... perhaps Sir is simply not adept at expressing himself."
　　"Perhaps," Charles shook his head. "Do you know the greatest difference between a fox and a hound?"
　　"What is that, Minister?" Cyril asked.
　　"A fox knows many paths. A hound knows only one: the path that follows the fox."
　　"The question is," he turned to look at the closed door, "what happens when the fox decides to stop running, and starts hunting the hound?"