“They use a 44.1 kHz signal,” the first man on the bench said, idly scatting bread to the waiting ducks. “It’s not encrypted. Interception should be exceedingly easy.”

An envelope of money, hidden in a newspaper, slid down between them. “Make sure there’s a shift change between noon and 1PM, the second man said. “We’ll hijack the datastream and there will be a second payment twice this size for you.”

“Agreed. Your company will catch up on fifteen years of baked-goods research in a single afternoon.”

Below them, dabbling at the bread, the pond ducks quacked softly, ignored.

“They are preparing to steal the bread recipes,” the first mallard said. “The hour has been set.”

“Good,” said his partner. “I will gather the faithful. We will strike without warning or mercy, and the bread shall be ours.”

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