57. Immigration.

Nan followed Sid down an interminably long hallway, into the immigration area. Several uniformed guards were posted here and there, and their only function seemed to be to point vaguely toward immigration officers. The two businessmen were already done and could be seen hurrying down the corridor behind the officials.

Sid and Nan arrived at the counter together. A blue-turbaned Sikh examined them and raised an eyebrow. "Passport?" Sid shook his head, smiling. "Disembarkation card?" the official pressed.

Nan had filled these out, creating a colorful name for Sid. She slid the cards toward the official, confident that somehow Sid would get them through whatever ordeal would face anyone else. The official didn't even glance at the cards. He stamped each of them twice, slid them back across the counter, and looked in the direction of the line that was already forming.

Sid took his, folded it, and put it in his pocket.