“I’ve never heard of it.”
“On the street they call it Shadow or Nada. It’s academy-developed newtech, supposed to replace fentanyl. Instead of numbing you, it messes with your memory, so that you forget the pain as it’s happening.”
“How’s it do that?”
“How should I know? Ask the twist who designed it. Anyway, if you want something special for the discerning junkie, Shadow’s the trick.”
“Where do we get it?”
Which was how they’d found themselves walking north when five o’clock hit and the streets filled with commuters. Before leaving the hotel he’d changed his shirt, and at a tourist shop he bought a Cubs hat and a pair of oversize movie-star sunglasses for her. As disguises went, they were pretty rudimentary, but their real camouflage was the crowd. They stuck to Michigan Avenue: lanes of cabs and buses on one side, towering skyscrapers on the other, and between, a rush of people.
“This woman, she’s a friend of yours?”
Shannon nodded. “And she and John have been friends a long time. Since they were in the academy.”
So strange to hear him referred to that way. Not John Smith, the terrorist leader; John, the friend from a long time ago. “If she’s a friend, why do you need this stuff?”
“You don’t show up at somebody’s house without a bottle of wine. It’s not polite.”
“This is some wine.”
“Well, it’s some favor I’m asking. It’s not like I can phone John.”
“How does that work?”
She glanced over sharply. “You digging for operational details, Agent Cooper?”
“No, I just—” He shrugged. “I don’t understand how he leads people if they can’t find him.”
“This isn’t like the army. There’s no chain of command, no rear echelon. No orders.”
“What, he just asks nicely?”
“Yes. He’s a very nice guy. Anyway, Samantha won’t know where he is, but she’ll be able to get word to him.”
“I hope you’re right. This is a big risk,” Cooper said. Thinking, Lady, I will help you steal all the drugs you like if it gets me closer to your boss.
If anything, the crowd grew denser as they started down the Magnificent Mile. Tourists joined the mix, and shoppers loaded with packages. Crowds were always frustrating to Cooper, but it was worse with Shannon. The concept of a straight line was utterly foreign to her. She slipped and slid and quicksilvered along, finding holes where there weren’t any, sometimes stopping dead for no reason he could see. It was unmistakably graceful—Shannon moved the way water flowed—but not easy to walk beside.
He was glad when they reached the gray-and-glass bulk of Northwestern Memorial Hospital. The front entrance was about as inviting as a hospital could be, which was to say not very. The cafeteria was on the second floor. It had fake plants and fake wood trim and smelled like soup and disinfectant. Cooper bought himself coffee, and they took a table in a corner near the door.
“Did you see the cameras on the way in?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Cameras are a problem. I can’t shift if I can’t see the people looking for me.”
“You can’t what?”
“Shift.” For a moment she looked girlishly self-conscious. “It’s what I call it. What I do.”
“Shift. I like that.” The coffee was better than he expected, dark and strong. “The cameras shouldn’t be a problem. They’ll record us, but I doubt anyone is monitoring the live feed. This isn’t a black-ops facility; mostly the security is to foil junkies and keep hospital staff out of the candy jar.”
Shannon leaned back, began to run her hands through her hair, letting it fan out between her fingers. “There are two doctors at the corner table.”
He glanced at their reflection in a framed poster. “No.”
“Why not?”