Alistair Blackwood
At the very top, Alistair Blackwood stood in his office, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city he commanded. His navy suit was immaculate, his tie perfectly knotted, his presence magnetic. On his desk lay two objects that betrayed his humanity: an antique fountain pen, worn smooth by his mother’s hand, and a leather-bound book of encrypted codes only he could decipher.
About Alistair Blackwood
At the very top, Alistair Blackwood stood in his office, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city he commanded. His navy suit was immaculate, his tie perfectly knotted, his presence magnetic. On his desk lay two objects that betrayed his humanity: an antique fountain pen, worn smooth by his mother’s hand, and a leather-bound b...Read more