Zero History

12. COMPLIANCE TOOL
Bigend’s office, when Milgrim was finally ushered in, was windowless and surprisingly
small. Perhaps it wasn’t that specifically his office, Milgrim thought. It didn’t look like an
office anyone actually worked in.
The Swedish boy who’d brought Milgrim in put a gray folder on the teak desk and left
silently. There was nothing else on the desk except a shotgun, one that appeared to have
been made from solidified Pepto-Bismol.
“What’s that?” Milgrim asked.
“The maquette for one of the early takes on a collaboration between Taser and
Mossberg, the shotgun manufacturer.” Bigend was wearing disposable plastic gloves, the
kind that came on a roll, like cheap sandwich bags. “A compliance tool.”
“Compliance tool?”
“That’s what they call it,” said Bigend, picking the thing up with one hand and turning
it, so that Milgrim could see it from various angles. It looked weightless. Hollow, some
sort of resin. “I have it because I’m trying to decide whether a collaboration like this is the
equivalent of Roberto Cavalli designing a trench coat for H&M.”
“I’ve been made,” said Milgrim.
“Made?” Bigend looked up.
“A cop took my picture this morning.”
“A cop? What kind?”
“A Chinese-American missionary-looking one. Her sweatshirt was embroidered with
the South Carolina state flag.”
“Sit down,” said Bigend.
Milgrim sat, his Hackett shopping bag on his lap.
“How do you know she was a cop?” Bigend removed the glove-baggies, crumpled
them.
“I just did. Do. Not necessarily in the sense of a law enforcement officer, but I wouldn’t
put it past her.”
“You’ve been shopping,” said Bigend, looked at the Hackett bag. “What did you buy?”
“Pants,” said Milgrim, “a shirt.”
“Ralph Lauren shops at Hackett, I’m told,” said Bigend. “That’s an extremely complex
piece of information, conceptually. Whether it’s true or not.” He smiled. “Do you like to
shop there?”
“I don’t understand it,” Milgrim said, “but I like their pants. Some of their plainer
shirts.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“The English football thing.”