The wheels touched down at 6:22 AM. The passengers disembarked in silence, wearing their ordinary faces. No one looked back. No one needed to. The contract was fulfilled.

He walked the aisle, a tray in his hands. For Madame Fournier: a black silk sleep mask and a pair of velvet-lined cuffs. For Leo: a simple card with a room number—the onboard private suite, 2B—and a key card. Leo looked up, panicked. "I… I’ve never—"

And somewhere over the Atlantic, Flight 304 was already turning around, ready to take off again, carrying its next cargo of secrets into the dark.