Though Sam was confident of the identity of Smith and each of the other three "persons" in his pocket, he didn’t want to press his luck. He planned to avoid the roadblocks and checkpoints between the zones of the partitioned city whenever possible. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Denver’s shadowfolk and street people drifted across the zones all the time. Innocent street people didn’t mind being caught in a sweep that left them sitting a night or two in a detention center. Why should they? It was a way to get food and shelter. But shadowfolk couldn’t afford the attention. Fortunately, most sweeps were perfunctory things, and Sam’s identities would easily stand the cursory scrutiny likely from a cop’s scanpad. Cog had assured him that Smith and his friends were solid, up through a third-tier backcheck. They ought to be—the cost had been so high that Sam had been forced to ask Hart for the nuyen to finance the panzer run that got him to Denver.