The Golden Master
"Thorne, you look as though you’ve swallowed a coal. Speak, or I shall assume you are merely a decorative bust in this office." Director Vance sat behind a desk of mahogany, the wood polished to a mirror sheen that reflected the grey light of the November afternoon. Elias Thorne stood before him, his uniform buttoned to the throat, the brass of his rank catching the weak sun. In his left hand,...
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