The life of a secret agent is like walking on the edge. One wrong step and you're already falling into the abyss. Dangerous, attractive - that’s what it probably seems like when you’re sitting in a comfortable chair with a spy novel in your hands. Believe me, there is nothing romantic about this damn job, especially when the mousetrap is about to slam shut. No one needs the exposed agent, only an alien planet that hires him for a small job. And they seem to promise to pay you well and let you go in peace, but the short leash is stretched to the limit, and it becomes more difficult to believe in a happy future every day. And if the ghost of someone you least expect to see appears out of oblivion, then the mousetrap turns into a trap. On one side is the present, on the other is the past, and you become the very point at which they intersect.