CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The phone rang in the Master’s office. The telephone was what most would consider a relic from the sixties. It was lime green with a clear plastic dial in the centre, and the receiver connected to the base via a coiled plastic cable.
A simple operation. The clear plastic had ten holes on the outer rim, each hole at rest over a printed number. There were no buttons, no electronic touch screen, no voice-activated function. Just stick your finger in a numbered hole and dial, wait for the disk to rotate back, select the next number and repeat. The Master was in his sixties, but his body was broken from the years, making him appear much older.
This was as old school as it got.
But the Master was happy with that. After all, he was old school. The boy who stood to his right
