Having passed along a separate corridor, I quickly reach my office and confidently open the door.

- Falcon, well, I've been waiting for you, brother. - a tall, strong man sits imposingly on a wide leather sofa. One of his hands lies relaxed on the back of the sofa, the other clutches a glass of whiskey.

Only this person, not counting Katya of course, is allowed to call me brother. Sivarov Igor Vladimirovich, who ten years ago was called simply Gray, is really like a brother to me. It was he who found me on the street when I ran away from home and wandered aimlessly through the doorways in...