Black List Read Online Free PDF Page B

similarly armed. The first was unmistakably Arran Sinclair. Even back then, his trademark unruly blonde hair and infectious grin were very much in evidence, and in truth the face staring back from the photograph looked little different from the man Alex had met three days ago.
    Things just seemed to come easy to Sinclair. He was tall, good looking and possessed a confident, easygoing charm that was rare in one so young, and men and women alike had instinctively seemed to warm to him. He’d certainly never lacked for female attention during his time at university, which was partly why Alex had first made a point of spending time with him.
    The second man was less well endowed. A short, stocky Norwegian with a fleshy face and long dark hair tied back in a simple ponytail, he was grinning at the camera with the unfocussed eyes of a man who had already overdone it. Then again, Gregar Landvik never did know when to hold back, Alex thought with a grim smile.
    The three of them had hooked up in that chaotic, frenzied time that accompanied the start of a new term, and despite their differing backgrounds and personalities had quickly become firm friends. Alex couldn’t rightly say what brought them together, but somehow they just seemed to gravitate towards each other.
    Later the three students had applied their considerable talents to the world of computer hacking, eventually forming a group of like-minded individuals which they named Valhalla 7. Their work brought them great success for a time, but also exposed differences between them that were ultimately to destroy the group.
    But in that picture, none of those things had yet come to pass. The three men grinning back at Alex were young and happy, filled with optimism and excitement about the great adventure that lay ahead. He could scarcely imagine what that felt like now, and couldn’t help wondering what his younger self would make of his life today.
    ‘Glad you’re not here to see it, mate,’ Alex said, draining his beer.
    He was just getting up to retrieve another from the kitchen when he spotted something over by the front door. A hand-addressed envelope was mixed in amongst the charity appeals, utility bills and marketing crap.
    Alex paused, frowning for a moment. Who the hell still sent letters in this day and age? Even his parents were tech-savvy enough to connect with their friends online.
    Intrigued, he knelt down to pick it up, and immediately felt his heartbeat quicken. He’d recognize Arran Sinclair’s jerky, chaotic handwriting anywhere. The poor quality of the penmanship suggested it had been scrawled in a hurry, but if so, why had his friend chosen such an old-fashioned way of contacting him?
    More interesting still was the bulge of something hard inside the envelope. Clearly it contained more than just a missive from his friend, and judging by the weight and dimensions of the object, Alex had a fair idea of what it was.
    Wasting no time, Alex tore open the envelope to reveal its contents, and his suspicions were proven correct when a digital memory stick fell into his hand. Smaller than the key fob for a car, the unassuming little storage device was capable of holding up to 50 gigabytes of data. Enough to carry tens of thousands of books, hundreds of hours of high-definition video or just about anything else one could conceivably need to store.
    But with no computer, Alex had no way of knowing what this one held.
    Slipping it into his pocket for now, he unfolded the crumpled letter, hoping that his friend had imparted some useful information. However, what he saw only deepened his concern.
    Keep this safe. Don’t tell anyone about it. I’ll contact you when I can.
    Arran.
    Keep this safe. Don’t tell anyone about it. I’ll contact you when I can.
Arran.
    Hardly comprehensive instructions, Alex thought with a flash of irritation. Given the timing of Sinclair’s letter, it seemed logical to assume it had something to do with the job he’d been offered,