Zero History

57. SOMETHING OFF THE SHELF
The current crisis, whatever underlay it, didn’t seem to have affected Bigend’s appetite.
They were all having the full English. Bigend was working steadily through his, Garreth
doing most of the talking.
“This is a prisoner exchange,” Garreth said. “One hostage for another. Your man
assumes, correctly, that you’re unlikely to call the police.” Bigend looked pointedly at
Hollis. “We can assume that he hasn’t much of a network here,” Garreth continued, “else
he wouldn’t have sent an idiot after Milgrim. Neither, at this point, do you, given the
situation in your firm, and we can assume that he knows that, via your mole.”
“Can one have been a mole on one’s own behalf?” asked Bigend. “I would assume that
everyone is that, to whatever extent.”
Garreth ignored this. “Your mole will know that you aren’t much inclined to hire
outside security, for the reasons you stated. Likewise your man will know this. Since your
man would never have signed off on such a patently ridiculous abduction plan, we can
assume that Foley was the planner. Therefore, your man was either not present during the
attempt or somehow out of the loop. My guess is that he was already on his way here,
likely out of a sense that Foley was cocking up. Foley possibly acted when he did in order
to get at Milgrim before the boss arrived.”
Hollis had never heard Garreth unpack a specific situation this way, though something
in his tone now reminded her of his explanations of asymmetric warfare, a topic in which
he had a keen and abiding interest. She remembered him telling her how terrorism was
almost exclusively about branding, but only slightly less so about the psychology of
lotteries, and how this had made her think of Bigend.
“So,” Garreth said, “it’s likely we’re dealing with an improvisational plan on their part.
Your man has opted for a prisoner exchange. Those of course are eminently gameable.
Though your man knows that, certainly, and is familiar with all applicable tactics,
including the one I imagine I’d be most likely to employ.”
“Which is?”
“Your man Milgrim. Is he obese? Extremely tall? Memorable-looking?”
“Forgettable,” said Bigend. “About ten stone.”
“Good.” Garreth was buttering a slice of toast. “There’s a surprising amount of mutual
trust necessary in any prisoner exchange. Why it’s gameable.”
“You’re not giving them Milgrim,” Hollis said.
“I need to see more to hang success on, Mr. Wilson, if you’ll pardon my saying so,”
said Bigend, forking beans onto a quarter-slice of toast.
“God’s in the details, the architects said. But you have rather a bigger problem, here.
Contextually.”