The first pale streaks of dawn cut through the reinforced steel blinds of a heavily secured, off-the-books Yang Corporation safehouse on the industrial outskirts of the capital. The room was sterile, silent, and entirely disconnected from any public networks or satellite tracking matrices. A single minimalist hanging lamp cast a sharp, white circle of light over a massive conference table.
On the table, the dust-covered, lead-lined briefcase sat wide open, its heavy latches gleaming under the harsh light.
