The second batch arrived through the private arrival lane of the airport.
They did not look like tourists. They moved with the quiet pace of people who had already been briefed, checked, and cleared before their plane touched the ground. Two men carried small bags. One woman walked between them with nothing in her hands except a phone and a folded coat.
Three cars waited outside.
The cars were too expensive for local businessmen and too plain for anyone trying to show off. Black paint, dark glass, drivers who did not look back unless spoken to. The second batch entered without asking questions.
By the time they reached the hotel suite, the old man from World Zone was already waiting.
The first team had arrived earlier. Two of them stood near the wall, and one sat with a laptop open. The old man did not waste time with greetings. He waited until everyone was inside, then placed a file on the table.
