Richard stepped in to the shop and let the door clang shut behind him. He smiled at the rows and rows of medicine and bandages and hair products and snack foods that filled the 24-hour pharmacy. Taking a few cautious steps into the store, he looked around. A grey-haired and tired-looking pharmacist stood behind a desk in one corner shuffling papers. He did not look up, so Richard moved further in. It only took a few seconds to find the aisle he needed. Bandages and antiseptic filled racks next to cough syrup and laxatives and pills for erectile dysfunction. At the end of the aisle was shampoo. Backing up a few paces, Richard looked over his shoulder and back to the door. He twisted his head, looking up and down the row. It was still empty. He tip-toed back to the supplies he needed and gently, quietly slid a shrink-wrapped package of bandages off the rack. He dug around in his pockets for a minute and pulled out an unimpressive-looking, thumb-sized hunk of black plastic. The thumb of his left hand pressed down on it and a little light came on.
